“When did you get all morbid on me?” he asks.
“It’s just a question.” I shake my head, avoiding his eyes. “Never mind.”
Perkins looks around, taking notice of the men around us. He nods for me to follow him and takes me further back from the camp. Picking a place where there’s nobody within earshot.
“We shouldn’t talk about that kind of stuff around them,” he says. “It’s not a subject anyone likes to bring up. What’s been with you these last two days?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet—more quiet than usual,” he points out. “I think I know you well enough by now to know something is wrong.”
I take my helmet off again, feeling more normal without it on. And because I can’t help myself, I pull the pack of cigarettes out, my shaky fingers making it hard. I offer another to him but he shakes his head.
“I don’t know. Do you ever think you’re meant for something more?” I ask. “Or that when you die, you’ll die for nothing?”
With the cigarette between my lips, I wait for the flame to catch.
When it does, I stare at the ground because I can’t bring myself to look anywhere else.
“All right, look,” Perkins says, shifting his weight. “I’m going to tell you something, but I don’t know if it’ll make you feel better or worse about this. When I first became a medic, I really felt like if I only ended up saving one person, it would be worth it. Just one. Because to me, one life is just as important as one hundred.”
“But you’ve saved a lot more than one person,” I say. “You actually make a difference here.”
“And you don’t?” He motions his arm behind us, back toward the company. “Every time you take down a German, you’re saving someone. Don’t you get that? You look out for our asses every damn day.”
I shake my head. “That’s different. You’re saving people, and I kill them. If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Everyone here has a gun and knows how to use it. I’m talking about like … changing history.”
“Changing history,” he repeats.
I finally flick my cigarette in the snow and turn to him, my heart pounding a little too fast. So many thoughts scream at me, reminding me and never leaving me alone. I think about the day I ruined the house and my tongue can no longer keep silent. So I explode on him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Because why else am I fucking here? Why? Why? If you know the answer to that, I would really like to know. Why do I keep coming back here if there’s no point in it all?”
“Kale—”
“Because this has already happened,” I gesture around with my hands, “and nothing good comes from me being here. It feels like life is putting me through one big joke.” I stand there and stare at him, on the edge of breaking down. “And I don’t find it all that funny.”
He thinks I’ve lost my mind. I know he does. How can he know what the hell I’m talking about?
“Do you have something you want to tell me?” he asks.
I put my helmet back on and take a deep breath. “No. Just … forget I said anything.”
I start to turn away, but he places a hand on my shoulder. His eyes are serious again. He needs me to know he’s not joking. “If you need me to, I can see you unfit for duty. It’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“Isn’t it, though? I didn’t sign up to be sent home.”
“I don’t have to remind you why we’re here,” he says. “Every man here plays his part, but as for dying … there are some things you can only figure out on your own. Yeah, everyone here thinks about that every day, but it’s not something you want to dwell on. Not everyone is meant for great things, but I believe everyone is a part in something bigger than us all.”
I look up at that, because somehow this easygoing medic I’ve known for the last few weeks is making a point. It’s true that I’ve been thinking about something bigger than me, because why else would the past pull me here time and time again?
But maybe me being here is like a pebble being thrown into a quiet pond.
Something so small can have an effect on everything.
I hear Captain Price’s voice ring out behind us. “Second squad, you’re on patrol! Move out.”
I shoulder my rifle and look at Perkins one last time before following the others. Lieutenant Gates is with us today, and he takes point with Stiles.
“Perkins, you stay behind,” I hear Captain Price say behind me. “They’ll let you know if you’re needed.”
“I’m afraid I have to insist today, Captain. I don’t like the thought of them going out on patrol without a medic nearby. And I’m not needed here at the moment. Unless you’re thinking someone is going to choke on their lunch.”
I stop and turn around, catching the captain’s eye when I do. I don’t give any indication to what I want him to say.
I’m surprised that Perkins is insisting on coming at all.
“Just be careful,” Captain Price says, still looking at me. “I want my medic back in one piece. You, too, Jackson.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, Cap,” I tell him.
He nods, and Perkins and I move off to join the others. About twenty minutes in, the talking dies down when we come upon a new stretch of woods, not knowing if the enemy could be nearby. The trees are tall and thick, leaving no underbrush for us to push through. It makes everything quiet.
I keep my eyes sharp, looking for signs of life or flashes of metal. In the dark places where the trees shadow, it’s hard to see if anything is hiding.
I’ve been part of a few sudden attacks before. Whether it was in a town or the woods, they all feel the same. Your body wants to freeze up like a rabbit, too afraid to run for its hole, so you have to be quicker than that. You have to be moving the moment you hear it, or else it’ll be too late.
But this time when I see movement up ahead, the first thing my mind goes to is Perkins. He stands next to me, not seeing what I’m seeing. I can’t handle another one of my friends dying.
Stiles calls out before I can. Warning everyone before the woods explode with gunshots.
I dive to my left, taking Perkins down with me before he has a chance to get shot. Bullets hit the tree next to us, showering the snow with chips of wood.
My shoulder blooms with pain, as though I fell on it the wrong way.
But when I go to push myself up, I know it’s something more. My vision is spotted and I can’t breathe right. The adrenaline coursing through me is the only reason I’m able to push myself against the tree.
Perkins is already crouched into front of me, pressing his hands over the right side of my chest.
I look down and see blood covering his hands. My blood.
I wonder how it got there so fast.
It certainly can’t be real.