Peña, who usually knew everything about everything, had the grace to admit defeat. He sighed. “I apologize. Thank you for the insight.”

With a sharp nod, she said, “Apology accepted. Now, let me get these men started on some antibiotics.”

The process of hanging the bag of medicine on the IV stand and starting the drip came without any fanfare, but Rick felt like the moment the liquid went into each man’s arm became a cause for celebration.

Now to get them well enough to move.

He looked over at Peña. “Go ahead back to camp. Send an update. I’ll stick here.”

“Roger.” Peña tapped his chest over his pocket. Rick could see the bulge of a meal packet. “Need a meal?”

“No. I have one.”

Peña left, and Rick stood between the men’s beds, looking from one to the other, praying intermittently.

Doctor Myers took vitals, made notations, and ministered to the woman on the cot across the room. Eventually, she approached with a folded metal chair. “Please, sit.”

“I don’t think that chair will hold me, Doctor. This gear is heavier than it looks.”

She nodded. “I know. I took it off your soldiers. I think the chair will hold up. Test it. If it collapses beneath your weight, well then, at least I’ll get a good laugh out of it.”

Oh, she was a pistol, this one. He spun the little chair around and lowered himself into it backward, crossing his arms over the thin backrest. He wouldn’t admit how good it felt to sit down. He checked his watch. Two hours had passed since she’d administered the IVs.

“The medicine is going to need time to work,” Doctor Myers said. “They should both feel better by morning.”

“Cap?”

He surged to his feet and walked over to Ozzy’s bed. “Hey, Ozzy. You about done malingering?”

Ozzy lifted his upper body and rested his elbows on the cot. “Doc, my leg is bad.”

Doctor Myers slipped on a pair of gloves. “What’s your pain level?”

“Like thirty. And I swear I can feel every heartbeat.”

Rick examined Ozzy’s face. A sheen of sweat covered his pale skin. Doctor Myers lifted the blanket and cut off the bandage covering his thigh. The skin all around his incision puffed up around the stitches in an angry red color. As she probed, Ozzy gasped and threw his head back. Sweat poured down his face.

Rick felt helpless, powerless. He’d done everything he could do for this man, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have antibiotics going,” Doctor Myers said. “Let me give you some real pain meds.”

Ozzy shook his head.

Rick frowned. “Come on, Lieutenant. No reason to suffer if there’s a different way.”

“No.” Ozzy collapsed back on the pillow and put his arm over his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he said, panting.