The Scourge – Fiction (3 min read)

Written by Millionaire’s Digest Team Member: Neil N.

Founder & Owner of: Moments to Remember

Millionaire’s Digest Team, Contributor, Writing Writer

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Unknown location,

Medical camp,

March 3rd,

Tuesday 1200 hours,

Private Frst Class Miles.

Unknown medical staff. 

“Another one just came in!”

“Great..”

I sighed.

Since war broke out, countless number of patients has been coming in and out of the camp. Correction, countless number coming in. So far only a few I have seen walked out. Our camp was situated far from the ‘line’, but from a different perspective, it was also the closest. It’s not a base or a fortification, it was just a small roadside camping site. We supply weapons to reinforcement and take care of the wounded if they pass by. However, it’s not easy as it sound, we have little medical supply and experiences.
Our weaponry consists of stolen weapon and those we scavenge throughout the battlefield among the bodies. Some of it were broken, jammed, empty or have a reddish hue due to blood.

We have around 300 bodies in this camp. Unfortunately, only 29 of those are alive. From what I’ve experienced, my job was to never to save lives. Instead I was only postponing death.

Our camp was the closest medical camp despite being miles away from the frontline therefore those who come here were either fatally injured or dead. This little camp we set up would be a clinic on one day and a morgue on the next.

I’m no doctor. I’m just a guy they see fit sewing up wounds and cleaning up blood without throwing up. And yet here I am not complaining. In my opinion, it’s better than being showered by bullets and shrapnels.
“Sir, there’s another batch coming!”

We would simply shove off the dead off the beds to make room for more dead bodies. Outside, hundred of bodies were on a stretcher, laying under the striking sun, with their wounds completely exposed. A gut wrenching scene with blood gushing out, smearing the ground while the air was filled with screams and moan of a dying soul.
“What should we do?!”

As my helpers panicked and scrambled themselves among the bodies, I stand there helplessly trying to make sense of the reality I was faced with.

Suddenly my heart was stabbed by the sound of a gunshot, pulling me back to reality.
“What are you doing!?”

I shouted. The man who was holding a revolver shifts his aim to another person. Before the next shot was fired, I quickly charged toward him in recklessness. His body was weaker than I had expected. He falls down and was unable to get up due to what seemed like an injury.

“I’m trying to save them”

He shouted.

“Can’t you see?! There’s nothing left to be done”

He continued.

“That man faced a grenade, his body is covered in shrapnel and wounds. He lost a lot of blood during the journey. There’s no hope for him left.”

His uniform was drenched in blood but it was clear that he was a medic.

Through anger, one my helper hold him up by his collar and shouted how he was supposed to save lives instead of killing them.

“Save them? You want me to help these people just     so they could be sent back to the frontline?”

He’s right. There are those who are suffering from third degree burn, severed arm, heavy blood lost,  and multiple bullet wounds. These men right here are experiencing worse than death.

I’m lying if I said the thought of ‘they’re better off dead’ never crossed my mind.
“We need to help those still have a chance”
“Who are you?”
My helper released the medic’s collar and questioned another unknown man who came.
“I’m from the same group as these people”

He answered. 

“Are you a doctor?”

I asked.

“No…”

“But atleast I still got my body in one piece.”

Sure. We need all the help we can get. The medic earlier got back to his senses and started asking for appropriate supplies for treatment. I’d say he was the only thing we got as close as a miracle these past few days. Our small camp finally began to look like a clinic instead of whatever it was few minutes ago.  Supplies were limited but it’s better than being able to do nothing.

After a hard day of work, we managed to save over 50 lives with only 15 person including one actual medic. As impressive as that sounds, the margin was still low. For every person we saved, 6 died.

By the end of the day, all we could ever gazed upon was the sun setting down as it shines over countless nameless grave.

And what saddens me most was the fact that it was only a matter of time before these lands are tarnished by the scourge of war.

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Article Credits: Neil N.

Millionaire’s Digest Team, Contributor

(For Book, Journal, Writing Bloggers & More)

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