KATHERINE MILLBANK picked up a bean bag paperweight from the desk and tossed it gently at the sleeping form across the room. Continue reading
TRYING TO BLOCK OUT THE SOUND OF MORTARS exploding ever closer, Hilda focused on the bleeding wound in front of her. She held her finger on the femoral artery while the surgeon sewed the severed vessel together then began to clean and close the wound. She shifted to the pressure point just outside the open wound. In another ten minutes, the wounded soldier might stand a chance of keeping his leg and his life.
JASON LOCKHART paused on the step of the train, but he saw no one familiar on the platform. Not that he expected to recognize anyone. The letter from Nelson Smathers, the Chairman of Clinical Research, had said only that someone would meet him. Continue reading
“There. Finish up, nurse, thank you.” Her wide, brown eyes did not change expression as she waited for instructions. “Sorry. Et voilà. Je vous laisse finir, madame.”
“Bien sûr, docteur. Allez vous reposer.” Sure, doctor. Go get some rest. She reached for the bandage tape, and began cleaning and covering the incision. She was the third nurse to assist him today. An American WAC, a Scottish nurse from the British Army, and this local civilian who volunteered. The patients were just as varied. Continue reading
Emily squealed with delight, as she sprinted across the sidewalk toward the man riding up to the curb cut by the entrance to Old Colonial Elementary School. Continue reading