I Coming Home | Inspired Hiddlesworth/Thorki Fanfiction

The Medical Ward | Chapter 5

Word count:  Words 916, Characters 5106
Warnings: None
POV: Chris

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We finally arrived at the base camp as the sun was looming in the center of the sky. Mark had passed out halfway there and Joker had ripped the sleeves off his uniform to patch the wounds. The teams who were behind us seemed to have completely disappeared - either also sustaining injuries or having passed us without my team noticing. 

As we approached the outskirts of the camp I spotted guards posted.

"Wounded!" I called. In an instant they were there beside us, leading Tom and Daniel towards the medical ward while the rest of us reported to Holmes and announced our arrival, and our fallen. 

"You might as well come with us too, dude," One of the soldiers muttered, motioning towards Rick. 

"I'll stay here and keep watch since you two are gone," Runner offered, smiling weakly. His lips were already dry and he looked like he needed water. 

"I'll stay too," Joker grumbled. The soldiers mumbled a quick thanks before carrying Mark and leading Rick off to the injury tent. Daniel, Tom, Cassie, and I decided to head to Holmes ourselves and announce our arrival.

We muttered a quick goodbye to Joker and Runner before heading to tent SilverA8-17, which was around the middle of the camp. I tucked my gun away and strutted through camp. I noticed some people were sending Tom some weird looks, some even Cassie, but I didn't acknowledge it. If they want to be shitty, then they're not going to stop just because I tell them to shut their mouths. 

The base was something special - or rather something chaotic. Large tents were everywhere, in crooked strips, almost like they had been thrown together the last minute. Although the ground was well-trodden it was dusty and messy, with stomped galleta grass poking through the boot prints. There was one huge clearing for helicopter landings, and I suspected a landing strip not far off the edge of base as well. We reached SilverA8-17 and headed inside, Tom still holding his gun awkwardly.

"There's no one here to hurt you, Tom. You don't need to worry so much," I chuckled. Tom laughed in embarrassment and put it away as we stepped inside the tent. Lieutenant Holmes sat at his desk, looking up as we walked in.

"Took you long enough, were are the rest of your men?" He asked, genuine concern plastered across his face. I nodded to him and cleared my throat.

"Markus Moss was shot twice by an enemy helicopter and Richard Roberts is making sure he didn't also sustain any injuries. Travis Nicholas and Peter Olson are guarding base right now." Holmes seemed pleased with my answer and handed each of us files. 

"Thomas, you will meet with me tonight, 21:30pm on the dot. SilverB5-11, don't you dare be late." Tom nodded and Holmes dismissed us. I checked the folder he had handed me, it read my serial number (#1904) and my tent number - CopperC2-13. It also had some valuable information:

Serial Code: #1904
Dorm Tent: CopperC2-13, #6
Food Tent: SilverA9-20
Medical Ward: SilverA3-18
Weapons Bay RESTRICTED ACCESS: SilverA2-10
Meetings Tent: SilverB2-10
Guard Duty: Wind16 - 0:00-2:00 #1918

And there was more valuable information on the other pages, I just couldn't be bothered reading through them right now. 

"Thank you, sir," I muttered.

"Now go settle down and get ready for dinner and briefing tonight. Days off tomorrow, you and your team get sent out to fight three klicks north in two days time."

I decided to head to my tent first and then I would go to the medical ward to check on Mark and Rick. I followed the signs on each of the tents until I reached CopperC2-13. The tent was rather large, about 20 people could stand comfortably inside. I stepped in and noticed each bed was numbered, I threw my bag down on number six and headed back out, leaving my gun and the file inside, if I needed it, I would find this place again. 

I reached the Medical Ward rather easily. It was quite busy, and I just slipped between the nurses and doctors. One stopped me in the middle of the room, however, a frown set upon his face.

"Code?"

"1904." I replied simply. He lifted a checkbook to his face before asking me to follow, and lead me to Mark, who was currently being worked on. 

A separate nurse, with curly red hair, pulled me off to the side.

"At this rate, he will need to be removed from fighting for the next month, if we were too late and the lead of the bullet is in his bloodstream his arm may need to be amputated and then he will not be fighting for the rest of his life. Mister Roberts will be fine, just give him a couple of days, he just cut his arm open on a rock or something." I nod and just walk back over to Marks bedside. He was still being stitched up by three nurses who were thoroughly working on him. 

After about three minutes I decided to leave and chill out in my tent until dinner. 

When I got there I was once again alone, except it appeared someone had been here to put their guns and weapons down on #9. I just settled down to rest, feeling my bones merge with the bed below me. I drifted into sleep without question, only hearing someone enter when it was too late to shake myself awake.