Page 65 of These Immortal Truths
A scattering of gunfire shot off into the dark.
“Three.”
A long high whistle and—
Anna is lost.
Her thoughts are slow and distorted, her vision a blur of smoke and flames. There’s people running, mouths moving, but all she hears is a painfully high pitched ringing. Her head hurts.
She touches her temple. Her fingers come back bloody, but that can’t be right. She doesn’t bleed.
She rubs it between her fingers, slick and crimson, and looks down at herself. Her nurses uniform is covered in ash and dust, places torn and red with blood as she sits amongst unfamiliar rubble. She doesn’t remember sinking to the ground, doesn’t understand why there is a flurry of people moving around her—shouting questions she can’t understand. A face appears in front of her, her nurse’s cap smeared with dirt and blood. It takes longer than it should for Anna to recognize her and longer still for the ringing to fade enough for the sounds leaving her mouth to make sense.
“Is it yours?! The blood?!”
Anna looks down at her hand. Crimson still stains her fingers. “It can’t be.”
Margaret stares, her eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Stand up, canyou stand up?!” She keeps shouting. Anna can’t tell if it’s for her sake or her own, but she follows the order.
Standing, bracing herself on Margaret’s offered arm, Anna looks down to where she had been sitting and sees a hand under the rubble. A patient. She had been on her way to check on a patient, when the room went black.
Not her blood. It’s not hers.
Somehow, it’s that thought that brings her back to herself. Shaking her head, she stops, pulling away from Margaret’s firm hold—the kind of hold she would use for apatient. “I’m all right, sorry. I’m just—where do you need me?”
“You have a head injury,” Margaret snaps, coaxing her forward. “You’re going to the injury bay to get checked out.”
“It’s not—”
“You’recoveredin it, Marian.”
Marian. That’s right. She isn’t Anna, not in this life. Marian—the girl from Yorkshire. The girl with wealthy parents that don’t exist. “But—”
“No.” The word is firm, leaving no room for argument. Anna lets her lead her to the infirmary, even though they’ll find there’s nothing wrong with her. Even though she can see her comrades running through the carnage, digging patients from the rubble.
Dr. Jennings shines a light in her eyes, measuring her pupils’ reactions and asks that she follow his finger as he moves it from one end of her vision to the other. He’s already examined her scalp, finding no apparent injury.
Anna won’t let him do a full examination.
Margaret is just behind him, looking confused and concerned as she anxiously twists her hands in front of her. Anna has overheard from the others that the injured have all been evacuated from the bomb site.
They won’t tell her how many they’ve lost.
“Well, I can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your heart sounds strong and your pupils are reacting accordingly. The dizziness and confusion you experienced were likely just the shock.”
Anna nods. “Then I would like to continue my duties.”
He hesitates, but they both know they need as many hands as they can get. “Very well, but if you begin feeling off at all, I want you to come find me immediately. Understand?”
“I understand.”
Dr. Jennings dips his chin in acknowledgement and hurries off to the next patient waiting for his attention. There’s no shortage of them.
Margaret stays behind though, looking pale. “I was so sure—I passed over you. You were laying there, motionless, eyes staring up at nothing.” She draws a shaky breath, coming to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not,” Anna consoles, because she can’t risk telling the younger woman that shecan’t.
“There was blood everywhere,” she whispers, looking over her shoulders before leaning in close. “Marian … I checked your pulse.”
