Chapter 11: A Very Lucky Man

THREE YEARS AGO

Thompson wiped blood off his face, feeling the red liquid seep into his gloves. Busy men in thick green camouflage trailed around him, their boots knocking into the wet, heavy sand. White tents stained with dust and rain were spread across the land, and Thompson's eyes remained keen, looking for one tent in particular. His eyes scanned a few tents before him as he moved but he couldn't find it yet.

"Hey, you." He called, gesturing towards one of the junior officers scurrying past him. The junior officer stopped and waited for Thompson to catch up to him.

"Colonel." The officer greeted, saluting him almost in the same breath.

"What's your name?"

"Gary, Colonel. Officer Gary Smith."

"Okay, Gary. I need you to tell me where to find the doctor's tent."

"Walk a few more steps ahead sir. He has some friend branches at the entrance. You can't miss it."

"Right." Thompson nodded, letting the officer go.

He then continued on his journey again, his eyes now peeled for dry branches instead of the tents themselves. Distant explosions rocked the horizon, shaking these ground as he walked but he couldn't let himself get distracted. Now wasn't the time. His eyes remained focused as he continued to move, giving subtle nods to soldiers either resting out of their tents, having a smoke or tending to their war bruises.

Another explosion could be heard in the horizon but once again, he paid no attention to it. Now wasn't the time to get distracted. He found the tent just as Gary had described it. A few scattered logs of dry wood settled at the entrance, slowly dusting away at the sun. Thompson dove into the tent, the smell of burning flesh instantly hitting him.

Beds lined the path from the entrance to what looked like a surgery table at the far end of the tent. Every single bed was occupied by either a dying soldier, an unconscious one or one screaming in agony as his wounds got cauterized.

At the far end of the tent laid the surgery table, the biggest table in the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings even more. He was looking for some of his soldiers because he had sent them to the infirmary a while ago after they got brutally impacted by an active abandoned crater that practically went off in their faces. Thompson wiped his face again, seeing his blood smear his gloves. He had narrowly escaped with minimal injuries as well but the others weren't so lucky. Now that he was here to check in on them, he couldn't help the sinking feeling climbing down his gut.

He got to the surgery table behind of which a man sat, scribbling notes onto a dirty parchment of paper.

"You the doctor?" He asked, staring straight at him.

The man, who looked rather striking in his grey hair despite being in what looked like his late thirties looked up at Thompson, pushing his glasses closer to his face. He opened his mouth to give Thompson a reply but was stopped short by the sight of the blood on his face.

"You're bleeding." He called, rising from his chair, the worry in his voice immensely palpable.

"Oh this? It'll be fine. Just a mild bruise." Thompson said, his voice riddled with reassurance. "I'm here for Bailey and Raymond."

"The lieutenants brought in from the crater explosion?" The man asked again, his eyes refusing to leave the blood slowly streaking down Thompson's head.

"Yes. I was with them but I couldn't exactly—"

"Wait." The man called, freezing the words in Thompson's mouth. "You were with them during the explosion?"

"Well, yes." Thompson continued. "But as I was saying, I was trying to—"

"If you were with them during the explosion, then I need to examine you immediately." The man pronounced.

"Like I said, it's just a bruise. It's nothing to worry about."

"No. That wasn't what you said. You said it was a concussion." The man said, narrowing his eyes, the worry in his voice increasing with each word. "Lieutenant—" The man trailed off, waiting for Thompson to fill in the gaps with his name.

"Colonel. Colonel Holbrook. So you are the doctor." Thompson asked.

"Yes. Now I need to get you to a bed immediately. I think you're bleeding."

A scoff escaped Thompson's mouth. "Looks like we got Sherlock Holmes over here."

"Internally." The man said, his voice precise and sharp. "Now are you done questioning me or are we going to wait for you to pass out right in the middle of the ward?"

"I told you, I'm only here for Bailey and Tyler." Thompson called, a slight wave of dizziness washing over him.

"You're here for Bailey and Raymond, Colonel. I really need to get you admitted immediately."

"You don't understand. I need to get back out there and—"

Like a thunderous force hitting him in the back of the head, he felt the dizziness, almost out of nowhere crowd his entire body. The man reached for him as he crashed into the floor.

"You were saying?" He asked, grabbing Thompson a arm and dragging him to the nearest bed.

Thompson could feel the dizziness start to fully take him over and his eyes were beginning to shut down.

"You are the Doctor, right? You're not some makeshift apprentice?" He asked, struggling not to slur his words.

"That's right." The man responded, flashing Thompson a friendly smile. "I am the doctor."

As the doctor laid him on a bed, the final wave of dizziness overtook him and everything went completely blank.

He could feel the weight of the bandages around his head when he opened his eyes. A sharp headache gripped his forehead and he tried to reach for it.

"Careful." The voice of the doctor called, spurining him into his situation. He was still in the doctor's tent and beds still stretched out ahead of him.

The doctor walked closer to his bed, his hands tucked in his lab coat, a stethoscope draped around his neck.

"What happened?" Thompson asked weakly as the doctor took out his stethoscope to examine his chest.

"You had a brain bleed. A few more minutes and you would have died."

Screams of soldiers in agony continued to penetrate the air as he struggled to sit up the bed and put his back against the frame.

"You're a very lucky man, Colonel Holbrook." The doctor said, putting back his stethoscope around his neck. "I'm afraid I couldn't say the same for your comrades."

Thompson felt his heart sink. "What?"

"Lieutenant Bailey and Lieutenant Raymond. They took the most of the crater explosion. I'm afraid they couldn't make it."

A sigh escaped Thompson's lips. It was probably for the best. His friends were already mangled on their way to the doctor. If they were still alive, they would both be in unmeasurable pain.

"We didn't know. We just thought it was— I should've" He started to say.

"We're in a war, Colonel. Putting blame or second guessing yourself is the most unhealthy thing you can do."

Thompson stared at the doctor.

"You saved me."

Playfully, the doctor pointed to a tiny badge stapled to his front pocket. "It's literally in my job description colonel."

Thompson looked down from the doctor's face and at his badge. He could see it clearly, despite the slight and temporary blur in his vision, the name engraved on the badge.

Dr. Elias Novak.