Chapter Four Part two
“A mother’s love is patient and forgiving when all others are forgiving, its never fails or falters, even though the heart is breaking.”-Helen Rile
We moved from room to room. Bekka trusted me to watch her back as she cleared each room alone. She was efficient and fast. The rooms were all the same, empty with the doors left open and the walls and carpets splattered with blood. Bits and flesh no longer recognizable as human beings littered the rooms like discarded clothes tossed aside in the heat of passion.
At the end of the hell one room had a closed door. Bekka paused by the door listening, her hand on the door knob trying it. I hadn’t realized how completely quiet the hallway was until the sound of the lock opening was like nails on a chalk board. Bekka with her weapon out entered the room I followed her, staying behind her and out of her line of fire. I heard them before I saw them. The sucking and chewing sound was distinctive. Bekka moved and I saw a glimpse of a small body with bloody hands and a bloody mouth. Bekka delivered a powerful kick to the face of the little monster sending her backwards away from the body on the floor. I realized the creature was a five year old girl. She looked so innocent, her hair was still in pigtails and the dress she wore was pink with yellow polka dots. Bekka ended her life with a single shot to the head. She’d been eating from the body of her mother. The world and time stood still for me while I watched the chest of the woman who lay blood on the floor rise and fall and realized she was still alive. Then in a rush that left me dizzy time restarted. “Fuck! Bekka, she’s breathing.” I had a purpose, she was breathing and I was a doctor.
My hands glided over the battered body seeking knowledge of her injuries. My eyes followed suit in a minute I knew her legs were broken. She was in shock, her skin wet with sweat and cool. Her pulse was irregular and weak. To my horror I watched this unfortunate woman take one very deep breath her eyes open and bubbles of blood foam up between her lips. Then it hit me, the pungent feculent stench of torn intestines. I realized I could do nothing for her so I held her hand. “Patch her up we need to get moving.” Bekka was watching the door. The woman whose hand I held forced air through damaged lungs. Her voice sounded liquid and was hard to hear. Her effort was tremendous “She didn’t know what she was doing...”
Bekka called again “Hill, come on!” My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. “I…can’t help her.” I felt Bekka move up next to me. She crouched down. “Nothing?” Bekka’s voice had a tease tone I had never heard before.” Maybe with a full surgical theater, a trained team and heavy antibiotics but not now not like it is now!” I felt frustrated and completely helpless. She was suffering and I didn’t know her name to comfort her as I held her hand. Bekka’s voice changed to sadness and resolve “Then we give her mercy.” I’d never taken a life before. I stared at her in shock “She’s suffering Hill. Its ok, I understand. I’ll do it.” I watched as the love of my life slip a k-bar between the vertebra of the dying woman’s neck severing her spine mercifully ending her life. I’d been talking for hours my voice was horse and I coughed clicking off the handset for a moment. The coughing had become frequent ad I could no longer ignore the fact that I was ill. Taking a sip of water I turned the radio’s handset back on. “ To anyone listening to this broadcast. They say a doctor should never diagnose himself but as I am the only doctor around to consult, my assessment and diagnosis are that I have pneumonia. I’m heading to the university hospital. I hope to get into one of the lower level med rooms, and open a medication pyxis. This is Doctor Achilles Jameson signing off. I hope not forever.”