Instrument of Peace

2

My senses gradually returned to me, emerging like a sluggish tide against the shore of my awareness. A thick haze of confusion seemed to enshroud every thought as I struggled to regain my bearings. Where was I? The initial sensation that greeted me as a disorienting fog, followed closely by a throbbing migraine. As I roused from my unconsciousness, the rest of my senses gradually joined the fray. I could feel the rough texture of the sheets beneath me, and the warm touch of the Georgia sun streaming in through the windows behind my bed. With a few blinks, my eyes finally settled into focus. The air carried an odd taste, a strange amalgamation of metal and dampness. Slowly, sounds started to pierce through the lingering fog in my mind- distant voices, muffled and distorted as if they were speaking underwater. I cautiously sat up in bed, suppressing a groan as my entire body protested. Pain seemed to echo from every corner of my being.

"Ugh, mon dieu." I muttered, rubbing the grogginess from my eyes.

Surveying the room around me, fragments of memories began to cascade back like puzzle pieces falling into place. Colonel Lowry's mission, the C-47, my rain soaked parachute jump... Time travel? I remembered the sensation of plummeting through the sky, drenched by the relentless rain which caused my heart to quicken. It felt like I could have drowned in that torrential downpour.

"You had us worried there, Sergeant Bonti."

Startled, I hadn't noticed that one of the officers from before had settled on a stool beside my bed. The confusion in my eyes and the gears turning in my mind prompted him to introduce himself.

"Lieutenant Nixon." He said, passing me my canteen from where my kit rested at the foot of my bed in the infirmary.

"Staff Sergeant Megan Bonti." I croaked, after taking several long swigs.

"Good to see you awake. How are you feeling?" he inquired.

"Like I got hit by a damn bus... sir." I replied, remembering my military bearing.

He chuckled heartily and opened a file folder, scanning its contents.

"Once you're fit enough you'll join the men in the barracks and assume your role as a medic, T-3 Bonti."

"Are the pilots from the crash alright?" I asked.

My mind had jumped to the two pilots I had run back into the plane to save. I had hoped to god they were alright. Nixon raised his eyes from the document, shutting it before leaning back in his chair.

"Yes. Thanks to your quick thinking, they'll make a full recovery. You certainly left an impression on our medics."

"An impression, sir?" I raised an eyebrow.

"It's not every day someone charges into a burning plane." He laughed.

"I suppose so," I nodded. "But I was just doing my job. If I have the means to save someone, I will."

"And that's exactly why you were chosen to be here."

Nixon, who preferred to be called 'Nix', went over my briefing packet with me. Above all, I was not to reveal to anyone that I had traveled through time.

"I have one last question, sir."

Nix turned towards me as he stood at the infirmary door.

"Go ahead."

"Will my family be alright?"

"Yes. They'll be taken care of." He assured. "But-"

"But I might never get back?" I reclined on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Why do you think that?"