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Krissie hurried down to the nurses’ station and paged the physician on duty. Of course it was David.
“What’s up?” he asked on the phone.
“We’ve got a burn patient up here. Randolph admitted her with first-degree burns of the abdomen and stomach. I just looked and she’s blistering badly.”
“I’m on my way.”
She couldn’t hold it back then. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the counter while memories washed over her in Technicolor horror. Burns of every kind and description, burns of men, women and children, burns so bad you couldn’t believe the victim still breathed. At its very heart, war burned.
A touch yanked her back from the precipice. She opened her eyes and saw David.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Burns,” she answered. It was all she could say.
His face darkened. “I know. God, do I know. Which room? You stay here if you need to.”
Sympathy from the devil. A crazy thought that just popped into her mind. David Marcus was no devil. No, there were real devils out there.
Gathering herself, she followed him to check on Linda. Julie sat beside the bed, the monitor had been connected, and the patient’s blood pressure, a tad low, was still okay.
David spoke a few words, then leaned over Linda. “Is the morphine helping?”
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