'Bright Promise' - by Larissa Thompson

Months before the outbreak of the Frontier War, a young Tamara Melari struggles to maintain a run down clinic in a land increasingly consumed by violence.

Check out this Patron-Exclusive Anthology short, written by Larissa Thompson and performed by Laura Faye Smith.

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Full Transcript:

“More loyal to my own people.” Loyal to what exactly? What about all of *this* am I supposed to be loyal for?

About ten hours ago, the Militia detonated a bomb at the Tordesh Distribution Center. The clinic has been overwhelmed with survivors and wounded and we’ve finally stabilized the last of the patients who came in. I haven’t slept in… whatever.

I’m sure the idiots think they’ve struck some kind of crippling blow to the Assembly, but all they’ve done is destroyed the Distribution Center and left us without any materials to repair the damage caused by their stupid bomb or to finish building the condensers before growing season. And for what??

I was treating a patient - she had shrapnel embedded in her lower trapezius, some of it lodged in her ribs, and there was a small nick on her liver. I sent Jennah to prep the next patient since they were coming in so fast - and I heard shouting coming from the hall. I still had some shrapnel to remove when two men burst in. Militia. One of them was wounded, a crushed shin that looked like it had been under heavy weight for several hours. He was howling. I recognized the other one, Nassar. He usually strutted around, acting like a bodyguard for the worst of the instigators. Well now he was screaming at me to help his buddy.

I told them they’d have to go down to intake and get triaged like everybody else. He’ll get treated when we’re ready for him. Nassar starts ranting that I owe it to the Militia to help them, since they’re “fighting for our freedom”. That I should be more loyal to “my people”. I was about to drag him down to intake myself when he looked at my patient and saw what was left of her blue uniform jacket. He flew off the handle, started screaming about how I was betraying the Union. Then he pulled out his sidearm.

I can’t remember exactly what happened next, but somehow I got the gun out of his hand and knocked him out. The other guy was still sitting by the door, screaming his lungs out. I had to finish the procedure unassisted with that man begging for painkillers the whole time.

I finally got her closed up and stable, then sedated him. He was in pretty bad condition, his shin had been crushed so badly there was no chance of repair. There was an empty bed in the room, and I was able to get him up on it without too much trouble. I wish I had a proper operating theatre, I shouldn’t have to perform surgery in patient rooms. There’s too much blood, it takes too long to clean, infection can set in so much faster.

Amputation was the only option. I hate amputation the most.

I got him stable too. I was scrubbing up when I heard Nassar waking up.  And before I turned around, I heard the gun.

He shot her in the stomach. I lost her three hours later.

The next time I see Nassar, he’s going to know exactly how those three hours felt.