The Medic

The Medic

         He found his friend Craig Lochiatto sitting against the wall inside the compound. Dried blood was still on his arms and chest.
         “Hey Lochiatto. You okay?”
         “Yeah.”
         “Want a smoke?”
         “Sure. Thanks, Haggerty,” Matt Haggerty lit a cigarette and passed it to Craig. He then lit one for himself.
         “Mind if I sit down for a bit?”
         “Go ahead.” Haggerty sat down next to Lochiatto and took a long drag.
         “God, that was scary as shit.”
         “Yeah, it sure was.”
         “They got Flaherty.”
         “Sullivan too. He died just a few hours ago.”
         “Shit. I thought he was gonna make it.”
         “No. He was bleeding internally. I couldn’t find the artery.”
         “Sorry.”
         “Not your fault, Matt. Not your fault…” Lochiatto held the cigarette to his lips with rusty red hands and took another deep drag.
         “It wasn’t yours either Craig.”
         “Yeah, I know. Whatever…” he said, exhaling.
         “Did you hear about the Lieutenant?”
         “Yup”
         “God. Shot four times and still alive.”
         “It was three.”
         “Huh?”
         “He was shot three times. I was there treating him.”
         “You were there?”
         “Yeah.”
         “Jesus. I was still a block away. My squad was pinned down in that alley by a sniper.”
         “I heard.”
         “We were trying to get to you guys, but they got Flaherty and then they pinned us down.”
         “I know.”
         “Do you think the LT will make it?”
         “Honestly Matt, I have no fuckin idea.”
         “That bad?”
         “What would you expect? Christ! Shot three times!”
         “When do you think we’ll hear anything?”
         “We might never. Once you get on that bird, often times you never come back.”
         “Shit. I hope he makes it…he’s gotta make it…”
         “Sullivan was in his lap when I found him.”
         “Huh?”
         “He had Sullivan lying in his lap, bleeding out, and his pistol pointed at the door.”
         “Jesus Christ.”
         “There was a dead insurgent in the doorway and Davis was trying to comfort Sullivan as he lay there in his lap.”
         “Fuck me…”
         “He just lay there with the LT as he shakily kept his pistol on that door. I don’t even know how he could hold it… shot three times...Jesus…”
         “He was like that when you saw him?”
         “Yeah. He was babbling something to Sullivan, who was pretty much unresponsive. The Lieutenant went into shock just as I got there.”
         “How long were they separated from the rest of you?”
Lochiatto just shook his head. “I have no idea, man. That fire fight felt like it lasted days.”
         “Yeah, I know…”
         “Where was he hit?”
         “Two in the left arm. The bicep and forearm. The other was in the leg, just below the knee.”
Haggerty just shook his head. “I can’t believe he lasted that long.”
         “What the fuck else was he supposed to do!?” Lochiatto said near tears. “Sullivan was dying in his arms. Hell, he was almost dead too! That insurgent was only five feet away with a full AK-47!”
         “Think that was the one who shot him?”
         “I don’t know, and I don’t care. If he lives, which is in serious doubt, he will probably lose his arm at the very least.”
         “Jesus.’
         “Fuck, man! There was so much blood in there! The Lieutenant's, Sullivan’s, the insurgent’s…they were all just lying in it, like it was a fucking bath or something! It was all over everything!”
         Haggerty put an arm around his friend. “It’s okay man…its okay…”
         “I couldn’t save either of them. I couldn’t save either of them,” Lochiatto said between his sobs.
         “Its okay man, we’re okay,” Haggerty said, crying too. “Davis is okay, man, the LT is okay.”
         “You don’t know that!” Lochiatto said bitterly.
         “He was alive when they med-evac’ed him. You did everything you could. You kept him alive. He’s not dead. You never saw him die. HE IS NOT DEAD.”
         Lochiatto just nodded, trying to believe. “But I don’t know if he is still alive.”
         “He is not dead...”