@londondry asked: “It’s alright… I’ve got you.”
ICY STREAMS OF melting snow trickled down her neck as strong arms wrapped about her. White-hot pain stabbing through her skull, like an ice pick straight into her brain, Margaret whimpered softly, unable to stop her throat. Vaguely, she recognizes the voice, but it’s as if through a body of water, memory distorted beyond recall. The sounds about them waxed and waned, someone calling for a medic, the groan of metal and men, a cracking sound and then more panic.
She felt as if she should attempt to look, but her eyelids were weighted with lead, any attempts to lift them producing the same pain as his every step. Brow furrowed at the strong scent of copper and gasoline, only to tighten further with a soft cry as she lowered, set on top of wool and canvas. Scolding erupted, but again, her understanding remained muddled, almost as if cotton wool filled her ears... and then silence.
Slipping and sliding on snow and ice, soldiers raced about behind them, joining others to finally lift the flipped jeep, retrieve the body trapped beneath it. A medic only a few feet away radioed for medical evacuation of the four passengers. One, another Red Cross girl, sits against a tree next to him, a sergeant binding the dressing she held to a wound matting her hair, curls falling under the moisture. Another, a man, laid still, blanket covering his entire form.
Pausing his castigation of the captain for moving a potential spinal cord injury, the second medic pressed his fingers to Margaret’s pulse, only to sigh in almost relief. “ She’s just unconscious, but probably concussed. “ Ammonia strongly scented the air, held under her nose. ( wake up, wake up! )
