05-28-2014, 07:36 AM
Smitty started them forward again.
"STOP"
Jay yelled. Smitty jerked to a halt, but despite the injury, Jay somehow managed to guide the bigger man around, oblivious that he was about to leap prematurely from the bird's nest and plummet to his death.
"What the-!"
Smitty cut himself off when he realized what Jay was pointing at.
Sitting in the shade the fan of a fern leaf was a dirty yellow ball of fuzz. It looked up at Jay with those big round eyes and mewed a dehydrated, sad cry.
"Oh my god, we have to save it."
Jay hobbled off Smitty to brace himself on the building's exterior wall and managed to scoop up the little kitten before it could realize it was taken captive. It must have been tamed at one point, because it didn't claw and hack his face off, then again, its paws were too tiny to do much good in that regard. It was still of a size to be needing its mothers milk.
Smitty quirked a half-grin and tickled its head with his fingertips while Jay nestled it protectively against his chest.
He cupped the kitten in one hand while they went indoors. He weighed less than a piece of paper, and the distended belly rubbed its delicate ribs against his palm. It had its head up, wide awake, though, and watched where they went.
The scene inside was what Jay feared. He made himself look at the bodies of the fallen as they passed by. And with the kitten safe in his hand, an old ache swelled in his gut. Sadness wasn't quite the right reason. Men died in war. Both ones he knew and ones he didn't know.
Neither was it the endlessness of war. Jay never believed for a second that it would ever end. That someday would come when the very idea of war was forgotten, and the only men who died were ones succumbed to frailty and age.
When the Capitaine's assistant grabbed his other arm to help him to the board room, he knew exactly where the ache lived. It was in a delicate eggshell of duty, something as fragile as this lost kitten. Every fallen man of war died because a brother didn't take the hit instead. Every time it happened, Jay wished it had been him instead of them, no matter the circumstances. That was why he didn't want to face the medic because he was terrified of being told he was out of the field. That meant abandoning the Hell Cats. Abandoning the very men that risked their necks to get him here in one piece.
A medic directed him to a table vacated by a man with his arm wrapped in a blanket of bandages. By that point, Jay was happy to lay down. At least they had the good stuff here.
The windows were open, but they did little to dissipate the noise echoing within the four walls. It made his head pound, and he squeezed his eyes shut like it might help buffer the cacophony.
He corralled the kitten with his arms so it wouldn't accidentally fall from the precarious height of the table.
"Do we have any milk?"
He asked the medic as the man turned away.
His expression fell to the mewing kitten, "I'll see what we can find for it."
Jay nodded his thanks.
It would be some time before the medics returned to tend his wound. There was only one doctor in the room, and Jay's, while serious, was not as imminent an injury as some of the others around him. He was a grown man who had already been tended in the car. There were others, like Natalie's boy, who suffered long enough. Of course, Jay refusing to yield to their attention until they'd tended Ekene's hand had something to do with it.
In the meantime, a woman came by. She was past middle-aged, but no gray stained her dark-hair and no age-spots mottled her fair-skin, but she was weathered with an air of leadership nonetheless. The Moroccan ambassador to Sierra Leone, Jay recognized her.
She placed a bowl of milk on Jay's table, unknowingly smiling at the sweetness of the pair. Jay breathed a sigh of relief that served to take the sting out of his leg. The kitten eyes were sunken and crusted with infection. Its belly was stretched tight of dehydration. It fatigued of mewing some time before, and the worry over its life was nearly unbearable. Now, with milk and Jay's attention, there was hope. The kitten had loped to the edge of the bowl, sniffing the chilled surface of white.
She pat Jay on the shoulder, "I'll see if a nurse has an eye dropper."
"Thank you, madame,"
Jay almost cried, and did his best to coax the kitten to drinking until an eyedropper could be found.
"STOP"
Jay yelled. Smitty jerked to a halt, but despite the injury, Jay somehow managed to guide the bigger man around, oblivious that he was about to leap prematurely from the bird's nest and plummet to his death.
"What the-!"
Smitty cut himself off when he realized what Jay was pointing at.
Sitting in the shade the fan of a fern leaf was a dirty yellow ball of fuzz. It looked up at Jay with those big round eyes and mewed a dehydrated, sad cry.
"Oh my god, we have to save it."
Jay hobbled off Smitty to brace himself on the building's exterior wall and managed to scoop up the little kitten before it could realize it was taken captive. It must have been tamed at one point, because it didn't claw and hack his face off, then again, its paws were too tiny to do much good in that regard. It was still of a size to be needing its mothers milk.
Smitty quirked a half-grin and tickled its head with his fingertips while Jay nestled it protectively against his chest.
He cupped the kitten in one hand while they went indoors. He weighed less than a piece of paper, and the distended belly rubbed its delicate ribs against his palm. It had its head up, wide awake, though, and watched where they went.
The scene inside was what Jay feared. He made himself look at the bodies of the fallen as they passed by. And with the kitten safe in his hand, an old ache swelled in his gut. Sadness wasn't quite the right reason. Men died in war. Both ones he knew and ones he didn't know.
Neither was it the endlessness of war. Jay never believed for a second that it would ever end. That someday would come when the very idea of war was forgotten, and the only men who died were ones succumbed to frailty and age.
When the Capitaine's assistant grabbed his other arm to help him to the board room, he knew exactly where the ache lived. It was in a delicate eggshell of duty, something as fragile as this lost kitten. Every fallen man of war died because a brother didn't take the hit instead. Every time it happened, Jay wished it had been him instead of them, no matter the circumstances. That was why he didn't want to face the medic because he was terrified of being told he was out of the field. That meant abandoning the Hell Cats. Abandoning the very men that risked their necks to get him here in one piece.
A medic directed him to a table vacated by a man with his arm wrapped in a blanket of bandages. By that point, Jay was happy to lay down. At least they had the good stuff here.
The windows were open, but they did little to dissipate the noise echoing within the four walls. It made his head pound, and he squeezed his eyes shut like it might help buffer the cacophony.
He corralled the kitten with his arms so it wouldn't accidentally fall from the precarious height of the table.
"Do we have any milk?"
He asked the medic as the man turned away.
His expression fell to the mewing kitten, "I'll see what we can find for it."
Jay nodded his thanks.
It would be some time before the medics returned to tend his wound. There was only one doctor in the room, and Jay's, while serious, was not as imminent an injury as some of the others around him. He was a grown man who had already been tended in the car. There were others, like Natalie's boy, who suffered long enough. Of course, Jay refusing to yield to their attention until they'd tended Ekene's hand had something to do with it.
In the meantime, a woman came by. She was past middle-aged, but no gray stained her dark-hair and no age-spots mottled her fair-skin, but she was weathered with an air of leadership nonetheless. The Moroccan ambassador to Sierra Leone, Jay recognized her.
She placed a bowl of milk on Jay's table, unknowingly smiling at the sweetness of the pair. Jay breathed a sigh of relief that served to take the sting out of his leg. The kitten eyes were sunken and crusted with infection. Its belly was stretched tight of dehydration. It fatigued of mewing some time before, and the worry over its life was nearly unbearable. Now, with milk and Jay's attention, there was hope. The kitten had loped to the edge of the bowl, sniffing the chilled surface of white.
She pat Jay on the shoulder, "I'll see if a nurse has an eye dropper."
"Thank you, madame,"
Jay almost cried, and did his best to coax the kitten to drinking until an eyedropper could be found.
Only darkness shows you the light.