Flashes In Time

The men were told by their commanding officer to approach the building one at a time and enter. The commanding officer would take the lead and First Sergeant Stewart would be in the rear, with Ashe remaining behind the small wall till the all clear was given. The commander made it inside without incident. No shots fired. Then another man entered, then another. No gunfire. Perhaps the intelligence had been wrong. Surely, if anyone was hiding they would have fired by now. By the time the fifth man had made it across, they felt more confident of safety. First Sergeant Charles Stewart was next. He had taken seven steps when Ashe heard the sound. “Pop, pop, pop.” The machine-gun shots had come from the second floor of the building. Stewart was down. The other soldiers began to return fire from inside the building. The fifth man was at the door trying to return fire from outside the building. Ashe threw his camera down and hunched over making a dash for the Sergeant. He reached him as he continued to hear the pop, pop, pop. It sounded so loud he felt it was embedded into his brain. Ashe did not even look at the Sergeant’s injuries but just grabbed and pulled him behind the small wall.

Once there, Ashe found the Sergeant had been hit in the thigh and right shoulder. He could see the thigh wound where the bleeding was coming from. Ashe took off his T-shirt and ripped it in two. He quickly wrapped the shoulder wound, and went to work on the thigh. He found the exact wound spot where the blood was flowing profusely and placed pressure on it.

“Hang on Charles. We are going to get you out of this. Just stay with me.”

One of the village men had brought his wife in the day before. She was eight months pregnant and had been sick and her labor had started. Along with the labor pain, she presented with vomiting and severe diarrhea. When the Doc and Sarah saw her they were astonished at how she was just skin and bones. The poor woman was so weak her husband and friends had to carry her the entire way. The Doc and Sarah began getting all her information and preparing a drip. The doctor immediately drew blood to check for malaria.

“Doc have you seen anything like this before?” Sarah could see his concern.

“No. I thought it could be malaria but the blood test says no. When you look at her, you would think she had been sick this way for a long time. But her husband says it has been only a week. They thought she was sick because of the pregnancy. She looks as though every bit of nutrition has been sucked from her body and quit a few of her lymph nodes are swollen. It could be cancer but I cannot be sure without running tests. Let’s treat her symptoms as best we can. I am also afraid the baby may be dead. I couldn’t find a heartbeat.” He sighed deeply and touched Sarah’s shoulder. “We may be delivering a dead baby. We will just have to do the best we can with what we have.”

Sarah and the Doc attended the woman. Both endeavored to make her as comfortable as possible. The IV drip helped put fluids in her body. The woman was able to gather her strength to withstand the labor pains brought on by the drip of Pitocin. She never screamed or made much noise but with dignity forged through every pain. By the time she had to push, her strength was spent. Sarah and the Doc did everything they could to ease her pain and encourage her to push. By the time she began pushing all her relatives and friends were waiting outside the clinic. They were impatient for news of the birth.

As the young woman pulled together every ounce of energy she had left, the baby emerged. Doctor Spencer quickly did everything possible to save the infant but he was dead. Sarah wrapped up the baby boy in a blanket while the doctor told the mother he was dead. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she asked to see him. Sarah took the baby over and held him next to her. The mother looked into his face and said, “I love you,” then turned her head away. Sarah took the baby and placed it in the pharmacy room.

Doctor Spencer went out to tell the family. Suddenly Sarah felt as though the world was made of glass and it had just shattered producing a deafening noise. The wails from outside crashed around her. Each sound felt as if it strangled her heart. She went into the doctor’s office and wept.

The next morning Mrs. Zuma said she felt a little better, though Nothando could not see it. Nothando stayed home from school on Monday and spent the day caring for her mother. Her mother did not seem to be improving. She had basically spent all her time in bed. It seemed she was becoming weaker and weaker. This sickness was the beginning. In seven days, Mrs. Zuma was dead.

Brayden picked up his cell phone and tried all the numbers he had for Carlos. All it did was ring. No answer. Then it went into his voice-mail.

“Hello, this is Carlos. Leave a message. I may or may not get back to you.” Then he laughed.

“Carlos, this Brayden. Hey man, Gabby said you did not come in today. Call me and let me know you are okay.” He closed the cell phone.

He sat in front of the computer and glanced at the screen. It was like it was just at the edge of his brain. What was this pattern? If only, he could figure it out. He needed fresh eyes. Maybe after some sleep it would come to him. He decided to turn in early.