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“Doctor in training,” she said. True enough, though it implied more skill than what she had.
    “Where?”
    “University of Michigan.”
    The fourth man said, “Good school.” He had glasses, a trimmed beard and a high brow, and he looked as if he might be a graduate school student himself in the old world.
    “Good school,” she agreed. A stab of nostalgia surprised her. She wished it were spring of last year, that azaleas were blooming, and that she were walking the Diag through the ever-present cloud of pot smoke, heading to her biochem lab. She wished she were still that girl, living in that safe and simple world, with no bigger worry than getting the answer to her question on metal hydrides out of a bored TA.
    The fourth man, the graduate student one, said, “I’m Doug. That’s Jamie.”
    Coral’s little trip down memory lane had her almost saying, “Nice to meet you,” but that was ridiculous. It was not nice to meet them. It was frightening. She gave a curt nod instead.
    “Your friend is who?” said Jamie. “He’s kind of quiet.”
    “That’s Benjamin,” Coral said. “I’m trying to treat a wound infection he has. You all wouldn’t have any aspirin or antibiotics or a sterile gauze?”
    “What’s he to you?” asked Jamie.
    “My husband,” said Coral, before she had any idea she was going to say it. But once she had, she thought it might have been the smartest thing she’d said in a long while. If they were going to believe she was a doctor and spare her life because of it, she needed to give them a reason to spare Benjamin’s, too.
    “Looks old enough to be your father,” muttered Jamie.
    “It’s his beard,” said Coral. She couldn’t see Benjamin’s face, but she hoped he wasn’t staring back at her slack-jawed in shock to discover that somehow, in the past seven months, he’d gotten himself married to her. After the initial surprise has worn off, surely he’d understand what she was trying to do. She had to protect him, and she had to keep them from being separated.
    “We have a few first aid supplies,” said Kathy.
    “And you’re willing to share?” said Coral.
    “Sure. It’s not much.” She ducked into the tent and brought out a good-quality backpack. She rooted through it and tossed Coral a soft-sided pack, dark green with a red cross on it. “Take whatever you need.” She turned to the men. “Any food hot?”
    “We were waiting for you two. But I don’t know about two more people. Do we have the MREs to spare?”
    Benjamin said his first words. “We have fish that Coral caught yesterday.”
    “Ice fishing?” Jamie asked.
    Coral moved to the fire, which was giving out some light, and opened the first aid kit. There were bandages, a stretch bandage, tweezers, some two by twos, tape, and, miracle of miracles, a small tube of triple-antibiotic ointment, about 2/3 used.
    “Coral,” said Benjamin.
    “Come over here and let me re-bandage that.”
    He pointed across the fire. “The man asked you a question.”
    She glanced up. Jamie said, “Stupid question. Had to be ice-fishing, right? You have a tip rod?”
    “No.” She had a vague idea of what they were—ice fishing specialty gear. “Summer gear and five feet of line. But the perch didn’t seem to mind.”
    “Willing to trade one of your perch for an MRE?” he said.
    She nodded. “I’ll trade you two for two, in fact. Benjamin, please throw the man some fish, and then sit down next to me.”
    The man jerked when Benjamin opened the burlap sack, but Kathy said, “I’ve already been through their bags.”
    Benjamin handed over a whole perch, cleaned of its guts, head still attached, and two fillets left over from yesterday.
    “Damn,” said Jamie. “Thanks. That looks great.”
    She had Benjamin sit by the fire so she could see his arm better in its light.
    “We have a flashlight,” said Martin.
    “Thank you,” said Coral, meaning it. “That’d help.”
    She wasn’t used to doing first aid