I turned shakily to see Hester standing a distance behind me, his rifle gripped rigidly in his hand and an expression of utter horror transfixed upon his face as he surveyed the terrible scene around him. His garments were badly ripped, so much as to expose the skin underneath in several places, and there was a bloody streak smeared across his brow and cheek and a good amount more spread all across his body, but I could tell it did not belong to him and shoved the sight from my thoughts, not desiring to imagine what he may have done to have the gore splattered in such quantity. Nonetheless, I could never begin to express the depth of my relief to see him alive, and that he had avoided any evident injury apart from a number of awful bruises darkening his skin.
A quick look around confirmed that we were indeed alone, the ground littered with a gruesome display of lifeless bodies. The blind heat of battle fading rapidly away, I became aware of an excruciating agony in my ankle and did not even attempt to stand, knowing the leg would not be able to hold my weight if I did. I dug my hands into the snow, wincing, and crawled painfully forward to crouch beside Carter’s limp form.
Diving into the farthest recesses of my mind, I tried now to locate the old antagonism, the bitter resentment held for so long, but whatever animosity I had ever felt toward the young officer had ceased to exist, erased from the moment the first shot had sounded, to be instantly superseded by an incredible sense of fervent devotion. All the hostility between us that had seemed so essential only minutes earlier I now realized had been nothing but sheer imbecility, a foolish child's game that had concluded with the execution of this bloodshed.
Pride, I thought. His anger before, all that he said…just damn pride. It would not allow him to listen, to trust me. And I was hardly any different. This man…he was never my enemy, and now it's too late. I couldn't save him. I couldn't do anything but stand and watch him die. Why? Because I was scared; because I am no soldier. You're right, Major, I am nothing but a useless coward. And perhaps…this could all have been avoided, if only I had not been too afraid to obey you. Or if only we had not been so proud. Those men, they would still be alive. Adler…would still be alive. If only.
I squeezed my eyes shut, holding at bay the mass of tears threatening to break loose, and struggled to push the lieutenant's face from my mind. I reached out with a trembling hand to place it gently on Carter’s motionless body. He is the commanding officer here. Soldier or not, I still have a duty to protect him. But…dear God, how could this happen? What did any of them do to deserve to die?
It was then that the thoughts froze in my mind and my heart jumped and started to pound like thunder beneath my breast, for I could have sworn that I felt a slight movement beneath my hand, the man’s torso rising, falling back, breathing. Holding my own breath, not daring to think, to hope, I slid my hand to his neck, searching…and there it was: a pulse—terribly weak, but steady.
"He's alive."
My gaze remained fixed on Carter's face as I spoke, but from the corner of my eye, I could see Hester gradually approaching behind me, his head bowed in despair; as he absorbed the astonished whisper, he stiffened and gaped at Carter with deep incredulity.
“He's alive,” I gasped again, quickly tugging my sword free from the foe's corpse and thrusting it back into its scabbard. As I bent closer to Carter, my eyes focused on the unconscious man’s frightening wounds, and I saw the snow beneath him tinged a grisly red. Oh God…
“Help me, Corporal! Help me, he's alive! He's alive!” Not waiting to observe Hester's reaction, I carefully touched the side of Carter's head and, feeling the hot wetness, withdrew my hand hastily to find it covered with blood. The man's auburn hair was matted with the scarlet gore. With a shudder, I felt my stomach twist and tasted sour acid in the back of my throat as I gagged but managed to force the nausea back so I could examine the injured leg. It was impossible to judge the extent of the wound for all the blood covering it, blood that continued to leak out and into the snow, but from what I could tell, the shot had ripped nearly straight through his limb and lodged deep within the upper thigh, the young man's clothing torn and soaked, his life ebbing with every drop that left his veins. Too much…what do I do? What can I do? There’s no time, damn it!
