Saskia races by, barrelling toward the enemy and one of the Specialists staggers forward out of the fog and collapses with a sluicing wound in his thigh—a moment later, his screams begin. I go to him; he lies on his back. I’m bandaging his leg but the blood flows out of him even when I lean forward with all my weight and press both hands to the rags of his thigh even as he is screaming so loud I can’t hear the shots crashing all around me. Now I’m stopping the blood—no, the flow has stopped because his heart has. The ground under my knees thumps like a drum. One of the Expeditionary soldiers lies on his side not ten feet away clutching his arm. I crawl to him he jerks as a bullet ploughs up his body his abdomen splits and I seize him the next moment, holding him as he screams and flails I try to stop him, he’s spilling and spreading his scarlet entrails around. A hammer smashes me on the hip and his body jolts, I am knocked backward. When I rear up again into his abrupt silence I fumble at his neck, he’s dead—my pelvis aches at my left hip—investigating I find the bullet that struck and killed him passed through his body and deflected off the heavy steel holster clip on my belt because fate loves idiots. From everywhere come cries for help. I make for a low rock that’s near and slump behind it stupidly, bullets buzzing on all sides like heavy midges and surrounding them the noise of the Clappers high up on the path in our rear. Men are crying to me, for my help. I see another wounded man near me. I’m the only medical officer here and I go quickly to him—

“Wait! Stop shooting!” I scream nonsensically to no one as I flounce on all fours to his side. I am listening to the rhythm the Clappers make up and about the shooting; I look down to bandage my casualty and find I’ve already done it. I follow screams to another man, wafted along I feel light as air, I attend to him and pull him behind the rocks. My head feels turned to light. The world cries “help” to me, and I say to it “I’m coming! I’m coming!” as often as I can, as I dress another wound, as I pull a man to cover, as I catch the next man to be hit before he touches the ground he is in my arms and receiving my help.