Frostbitten

Chapter 1

I sat up suddenly and looked around at the dark walls of my room. I drew in short quick breaths trying to keep quiet so I wouldn't wake my father. My nightmares had plagued me since I was little but when I turned twelve they came more and more often. Many times they were almost like visions; visions of my future. Mostly different outcomes but one recurring theme of losing my memories. So vivid in fact that I had to remind myself of the important facts of my life.

"My name is Makayla Ross. I was born on July 3, 1920. I am 23 years old. My mother died when I was five." I thought in the dark silence, "My father is a baker in Brooklyn, NY. My childhood friend is Steve Rogers. He left for the war last month. I am alone again."

This last thought hit me like a ton of bricks. I got out of bed and looked at my clock in the dim light of the sunrise. It read 5:36. "Dad wakes up at 6. I have time for a walk." I realized.

Pulling on my clothes and sturdy boots, I creeped out the back door by the bread oven without making a sound. Breathing easier, I started walking. Then I started thinking.

Two and a half years in medical school to get a nursing degree that normally takes four years, learning knife and gun skills from an old war vet in town, and handling nightmare/visions for the past eleven years; all without my father finding out. I had become a regular spy, I said to myself, laughing. I soon sobered as the thought of my medical certificate meant for my future. I could enlist as a nurse for the war! Finally a chance to help people outside of my little village. I wondered how my father would react if I told him what I was thinking. Having been deep in thought I didn't know where I was going till I looked up and saw the front porch of Steve's house.

"Maybe it's a sign." I thought, "A sign I should go apply for the war. Maybe I'll get to see Steve."

I picked up my pace as I walked back to the house hoping I'd make it back before my father woke up. I couldn't answer any questions about why I was out so early. I silently walked into the kitchen, took off my boots, and put on my apron to ready myself for the day.

I watched as my father's rough hands kneaded the bread dough back and forth while I thought about approaching him about my applying to be a war nurse. He stopped working and I hurried to continue mixing another batch before he saw I had stopped.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, breaking the silence. "You can't hide that face from me, you look just like your mother did when she was debating something serious."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice." I sighed and continued, "Do you remember those two years I spent on a trip to the beach?" He nodded. "I didn't go to the beach. I went to school for a nurses degree."

He looked back at the bread dough and replied, "I know, a friend told me while you were gone and I didn't say anything because I knew you would tell me when you were ready. It doesn't upset me either, I'm proud of my baby girl." He pulled me in for a big hug and left floured hand prints on my back.

He pulled away and looked down at me with a serious face.

"Why are you telling me now though?" He asked. I glanced down at my toes wondering how to tell him. "I want to sign up for the war as a nurse." I whispered, "I want to help people, to make a difference." He stiffened and I was afraid he was mad. Quietly, he said, "Okay, you can go. I can't say no anyway because you'll find a way to go anyway. You're as stubborn as your mother."

I stood in stunned silence for a moment then leaned forward to hug him again.

"Thank you so much daddy, I love you." I spoke, my voice muffled by his apron. He hugged me tighter and didn't let go for a while. I started to cough and he let me go, dusting flour from my face to help me.

"Be safe out there, Makayla. People are dangerous." He warned, "And if you see Steve, tell him I said to take care of you and to send you home alive." He chuckled after the last bit and I smiled in response.

"Now go! I can't have my little war nurse go to the registration office looking like a loaf of bread!"

I got cleaned up and headed out the door. My father bade me good luck as I left and before I could blink, I was out the door to go to war.