Eight

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Ellie stood in front of The Royal London Hospital. Her heart pounded in her chest as she progressed past each floor and finally made her way to the level that was under the care of Dr. Stanford.

   "Who are you and what are you doing here?" A thirty-something woman frowned up at Ellie from her desk.

   "Oh, hello. You must be Martha." Ellie gave her a warm smile, but the woman continued to frown at her.

   "Now I know who you are, and let me tell you: you won't last a week. Most people don't. I, on the other hand, have worked here for almost two years. I'm the doctor's secretary, janitor, and head nurse. Just call me when you want to resign."

   Ellie stared after Martha as she walked off. Why are people so mean? She shook away the thought and went in search of Dr. Stanford. She found him at the bedside of a patient who was pale and dripping sweat. He had a large piece of shrapnel embedded in his stomach.

   The man started to try to strain his dry throat to say something, but Clarence quieted him and gave him a drink from the glass of water on the bedside drawer. Ellie's eyes followed the motion of the doctor's hand as he set the glass back down and saw something brass-colored on the table: the man's aviator wings pin. He was a pilot.

   Ellie felt a harsh twist in her stomach. Her husband was a pilot. So was her son. What horrible things could happen to them? She wanted to leave, to get out of this horrible place. Just as she turned to leave, Dr. Stanford acknowledged her presence and walked away from the patient's bed.

   "Poor soul, he's just the first of many pilots who will see God before this war is over. I am so grateful that my son is an infantryman. They haven't deployed any yet and it looks like it may be a while before they do. The dangers of the plane are many. Mrs. Brooks?"

   Ellie was roughly ten seconds away from throwing up. The images of the patient's wound combined with the possibilities of what could happen to her husband or son were enough to make her run out of the room in search of a place to get sick. As she left, Martha rolled her eyes, gave Clarence a look, and said, "That's the end of her."

   He shook his head. "No, I rather think it is just the beginning."

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