Dealing With Consequences

Chapter 1

    Amara bent her knees and crouched down in front of the body of a soldier. She graced his neck with her fingers and checked for a pulse. She let out a sigh when there was no response. Another dead soldier in her line. She pulled out a tag from her small bag at her hip and pulled the pen cap off with her teeth before she scribbled down the name and identification on his dog tags. Amara always added location as well even though it wasn't necessary. Usually, the mortician wrote a generic one for the area but Amara figured the families deserved more than that. She carefully laced it around a button on his jacket with a silent prayer.

She straightened her back and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her army certified white military uniform. The uniform signified the medics from the soldiers, not that it would be hard to tell the difference otherwise. She wasn't in the best of shape and it was beyond apparent when placed next to a soldier of war. Medics were stronger in spirit than in mass.

She glanced back at the row of bodies stretching as far as her eyes could see. She had been at it for a few hours now and felt no closer to the end then when she started. She let out a soft groan before turning to go to the next soldier laid out on her assigned line.

Being head medic of this group, Amara was assigned the frontline. It was closest to the enemy a medic could get and her mother couldn't be prouder of her accomplishment. Amara questioned if a mother's reaction should be concern instead. It always made her nervous coming up here but didn't quicken her pace. "These men and woman deserved her full attention as long as required," she kept reminding herself.

The peace talks between her people and the Naihs had managed to get a brief recess to allow medics and healers to the front to sort through the massive piles of bodies. There are, of course, robotic devices that float around the massive piles of soldiers scanning for signs of life. If alerted, another leaner robot with massive limbs would secure the soldier and bring him to a safe location. They have the potential of slowly replacing the need for personal intervention; however they missed a few potential survivors and until the algorithm was perfect, she was needed here.

Amara wasn't a fan of the little buggers. They weren't the most accurate and also lined up the men which in Amara's belief caused more harm than good to the injured. The Uppers had decided it was more efficient, but Amara would never believe it. Robots lacked the compassion needed for the job. She knew if people saw how their loved one was treated by these bots they would be just as outraged.

Amara's body jumped at a surge in the barrier that let out harsh buzz. If it wasn't for the barrier put up between the Naih and the humans, she would have gagged at the stench coming from the other side. Not that her side was very pleasant. She crinkled her nose as she glanced over and saw the piles of rotting monsters. There were no medics or healers on their side. Instead their dead helped feed the Loggerheads and Valties. These massive beasts would go around and feed on the wounded and dead soldiers alike. The sounds of the victim's bones cracking in the jaws of the Loggerheads made Amara flinch every time. It was a terrible way to go.

A Naih caught her eye as it seemed to be staring at her with his vacant red eyes and she shivered again. The whole situation made Amara uncomfortable. Uncomfortable was an understatement. She was one Loggerhead away from a full on panic attack. She couldn't keep her heart from racing and her hands shook vigorously since she got off the hovercraft. She craved nothing ore than her comfortable and sweats in her apartment back at base.

 The beast looked similar to an ostrich in face. His feathers, along his shoulders and chest, had been bent or ripped out in the battle leaving swollen festering wounds and there was blood dripping from what was left of his beak. Amara thought back to the many pictures and short videos of ostriches from the archives. She would have loved to see a real one before they went extinct. Amara glanced at the monster again and her body betrayed her by shivering again. Now, they only had these hybrid monsters brought on through DNA experiments.  

She continued to stare at the beast as if it was going to get up and charge at her until a Loggerhead came into view. He waddled slowly shifting the weight of the giant turtle shell on his back with each step. She watched as the giant turtle like monster four times her size easily tossed the beast up and caught it in its jaws and with that sickening crunch, Amara heard in her nightmares, the body snapped in half. The blood rained down and splattered the ground around the Loggerhead. He would make quick work of the pile of dead. Amara prayed she never had to face one. She shuddered at the idea and forced herself to look away and back to the target at hand.

This woman had her neck sliced and the blood pool indicated there was no chance of life. Amara quickly checked her wrist for a pulse but knew she was dead. She pulled out a tag and jotted down the information before turning to the next.

Amara felt like crying at the sheer number of dead spread out across the rocky crest. She knew they would never return home to their families and lives. As a tear threatened to fall, she hit herself in her knee as a distraction. She knew she should save them for the privacy of her room. As her mother always told her, "Tears won't help the situation."

   She bent down near the next soldier and felt for a pulse. There was no pulse. There was warmth left in his body though. She fell to the ground on her knees and started the small timer on her watch. The numbers projected into the air above her in a bright yellow count. She began doing CPR, as the clock ticked down, using a small silicon breathing apparatus to administer the breaths. With thirty seconds to spar, the soldier took an independent breath and Amara praised the gods. She rolled him into the recovery position as she prepped for his transport.

   She stood up and pointed into the air. A soft blue glow came to her fingertip. She made an intricate pattern in the air and a bright blue symbol appeared. She traced a path to the medic station to get treatment. When she finished she tapped the symbol. A robotic gurney rushed over and scooped up the soldier and followed the exact path Amara had drawn to the station where a healer took over. He waved to Amara to continue.

   She was the only one in her unit strong enough in her spirit to do this. Without proper group training this skill creates traffic jams or collisions that have been known to kill. If someone was in the path of the gurney or two gurneys met at an intersection, there was certain to be more injury.

   She stretched her back briefly before she stepped over a body that was rotting. When she reached for the dog tags, a fly flew out of his chest cavity. She had to dive her fingers into the soft mush that was once his pecs to pull out the dog tags. She gagged as she shook her fingers and the tags of their slimy filth. She wrote out the information as quickly as possible and buttoned the tag to what was left of the shirt.

   She pulled a towel out of her back pocket and wiped her hands as best she could as she bent over the lack of man. His family would never get to put him to rest in this state. There would be no face to face goodbyes. That sickened her more than the smell of the rotting flesh before her. "Emotions are the enemy here," she reminded herself. "Best to move on."

  As she rose from Private Green, or so the dog tags named him, she glanced at the few remaining bodies in her row. Her feet crunched on the loose stones as she stepped around Private Green to continue her path, she stopped when she heard a soft plea.