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married part doesn’t shock me. I have no clue what war this is, but in most of history, a man and woman don’t embrace in public like we did unless there are rings on their fingers and signed vows tucked away in a box at home. I forgot myself, but then again Michael clearly did too. Worth it.
    Michael fiddles with a small messenger bag at his hip. “Yes. Well.”
    The man whistles as he offers me his hand. It’s then I notice the solider is missing two of his fingers. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you sure are a pretty little thing. Doctor Pace never told us he was married.” I fight a wince as he pumps my hand. “If I had a sweetheart like you waiting back home, I don’t believe I’d ever stop talking about her.”
    Overacting, I swat at Michael’s chest. “For shame, Doctor Pace.”
    Not unlike our third wheel, I can’t wipe the smile from my face. Sure, we’re standing at the back end of a battlefield, but risk is part of this shifting gig. Erik did what he promised. He shifted me to Michael. I didn’t even have to waste time trying to find him. Erik dropped me right in front of him. Despite the horrible smell and the sounds of warfare in the distance, I want to laugh in order to let loose some of the bubbles of joy piling up inside of me.
    Michael glances at me, then at the guy next to him, then back at me. It’s like he can’t form a sentence.
    “Pace!”
    A soldier runs past us and waves his arms, snapping Michael back to attention. Behind him, a group of men carry a stretcher. The soldier’s holler is followed by a gargling type of scream coming from the stretcher. I didn’t know it was possible to gargle and scream at the same time, but now I know. I wish I didn’t.
    Michael clamps onto my hand and starts running toward a lone building near the edge of the encampment. I assume it’s being used as a hospital. Maybe infirmary is the right word?
    We maneuver around rubble. Places where more buildings used to stand. From the size of the piles, this might have been a teeming village before the fighting began. My heart rams up into my throat. If the enemies knocked down these other structures, what’s to say they won’t take down the one being used as a hospital?
    There is risk, and there is stupidity. Even though the two things are vastly different, they tend to masquerade in similar looking outfits. I sure hope our actions fall into the first category.
    I stumble over a brick, but Michael rights me without losing momentum. We overtake the group of men with the stretcher on the way into the building, and against my better judgment I peek at the man in need of Michael’s help. A bullet has charted a path through his skull, but he’s still breathing. There are more gaping wounds along his torso. He coughs, sending a splatter of blood onto his companions.
    My stomach rolls.
    Michael gently positions me so I enter ahead of him, becoming a physical barrier between me and the dying man.
    Arriving at the make-shift hospital doesn’t help my stomach. The odor of sweat, decay, and human waste is profuse enough to invade my mouth and hang onto my taste buds. It’s a coating kind of presence. A smell that takes over everything.
    Cots span the entire length of the building. Some men have bandages covering their heads. Others have wraps around stumps that used to be appendages.
    I spin back to face Michael. Shaking my head. “I can’t do this.”
    “You can.” He takes my elbow, guides me toward the back, and deposits me along the wall of a small operating room.
    Another nurse rushes in, busily grabbing utensils and readying the area. Michael washes with steaming water and pours a bottle of something over his hands. Stretcher bearers set the wounded soldier onto a hard table and then file out.
    Michael bends close to the injured man, placing his hand on the man’s forehead. “You’re a brave man, Samuel. I have been honored to count you as a friend.”
    He turns back to the counter and