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I kind of felt bad for the barely twenty-year-old guy. My own initiation into the group had been no less embarrassing. However, it was funny remembering the horrified look on his face when our base camp leader had spotted his mad dash.
A fresh round of laughter sounded at the table just before the world exploded.
The sound deafened me as my body was flown with the force of the blast. When my hearing came back, lots of noise intruded, hurting my ear drums.
My vision was blurred and a dull ache started to pulse on the back of my head.
I was disoriented and confused and for a moment I lost all my senses
“Medic,” someone yelled and I recognized the voice of my squad leader. “Medic, we need you over here!”
The voice grounded me and my focus became clear. My training kicked in and I got to my feet.
My job was providing medical support to the others.
It was my role in the group but most importantly, it was who I was.
I rushed over, steeling my muscles when my legs threatened to buckle under me.
People were screaming and some - those who could – were running away from the scene. Words I couldn’t understand were being shouted with panic and fear in the pitch and tone. Smoke and debris were making it hard to breath and faces were darkened with the mess the blast had created.
Later, we would learn that the explosion was the work of a suicide bomber with something to prove to a radical group hiding out in the area. Fuckers. But all I knew then was providing my team, and others who were injured in the incident, with the medical help they needed.
There were broken bones and limbs and blood, due to the bombers crazy beliefs. I saw a few sightless eyes and unmoving chests but I ignored them as I moved to where my squad leader was hunched over Luke. The other men were helping the injured people in the bar.
Luke was bleeding. Red was all over him, coming from his nose and mouth. He was just a fucking kid.
A large slab of wood was protruding from his chest and threatening his life.
I got to work, pushing my emotions to the side and focusing on the task at hand as my leader radioed in for more medical support and reported the explosion to the relevant authorities.
Luke suddenly grabbed onto my hand with surprising strength. My surprised gaze jumped up to his.
“Please save me,” he begged, coughing up more blood and fluids.
For a second his face changed, and it was my father’s. His lips repeating the same words.
That wasn’t the first time this had occurred while I worked on an injured person. I had gotten better as pushing my personal issues to the side, and just as quickly as my father’s face had been superimposed on Luke, it was gone.
I looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m going to do my best, buddy. Just hold on for me. You’re going to get through this”
Luke’s eyes had closed then and his life was left in my hands.
Presently, mine opened and I was awake, transitioning into consciousness in less than a second.
I laid still in my bed, my body quiet and my senses scanning my surroundings automatically. I heard the distance hum of traffic and a light drizzling of rain sounded outside.
My heart beat was slow and heavy and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out over my skin.
My mind was still reliving the event of that night almost a year ago.
Luke had lived, although his injuries had changed his life forever and left him no longer able to serve his country. They told me it was because of my efforts he had survived.
Every time I was told I was instrumental in saving someone’s life I felt a rush of pride but it was also accompanied by an insidious wash of guilt.
There was no going back with my dad. I would never be able to save him no matter how many others I helped.
Panic suddenly tightened my chest, making it hard to breathe. Even though I knew there was no one else in the apartment with me, I could hear voices calling out to me to save their life. Others blamed me for failing them. My father’s voice was the loudest of all.
