Daughters of the Night Sky

Renata and Polina took me in their arms so the medics could take her away.

“You have to let her go,” Renata said, rocking me gently.

My eyes followed the medics until I couldn’t make out their shapes in the dark any longer. My breath caught in my chest, and I hadn’t the first idea how to expel it.

“Oksana told us about the German counterattack,” Renata whispered, stroking my hair. “We thought you’d both gone down…”

“You were half-right. Oksana and Sofia made it back?”

“Oksana did. She’s bad off, but the medics seemed to think she’d be all right. They’re sending her to the hospital to be sure. Sofia…”

“They shot the pilots,” I said, blinking in realization. “They figured it was enough to take down the plane.” I felt ice permeate the marrow of my spine. We’d lost our leader. She and Taisiya were two of the most experienced in the regiment. Who would command us now?

“Effective enough,” Polina replied humorlessly. “We’re still missing Elsa’s and Mariya’s planes, and I’m not optimistic. Their mechanics have a bad feeling, and that never bodes well.”

“Oh God,” I said. “Six of us in one night.”

“Seven if we don’t get you to the hospital unit,” a medic said, racing to my side.

“What are you talking about?” I said, brushing his hand aside. I needed to assess morale and see what I could do for the rest of the regiment. With Sofia gone, they would need some direction. Oksana was on her way to a hospital, far from the front. And Taisiya…

No. I needed to organize the women to do something useful. They needed some warm tea and an occupation until they were calm enough to get some rest.

“Oh, Katya.” Renata looked down at my right side, and my eyes followed. The side of my flight jacket was drenched in warm blood.

“It must be… hers,” I said, unable to speak her name.

The medic unceremoniously removed my coat and knelt to inspect my flank. I looked down at my blouse, equally soaked in blood, and noticed he fingered a few small holes in the fabric. Two or three large shards of wood had lacerated my side, but I felt nothing but the night air on my skin. Not even the medic’s hands registered as he examined me.

“Get some bandages and a stretcher,” the medic called to the rest of his staff. “She’s been wounded.”

“Oh, I have not,” I argued, the cold air lapping at my cold flesh, making my entire body shiver painfully.

I pulled up the side of my blouse and saw that my right side looked more like a side of beef in a butcher’s window than my own flesh. The medic quickly assessed that it was just two shallow punctures, but I was bleeding profusely.

“Katya, do as he says,” Polina ordered.

I nodded, squeezing her hand as I allowed the medics to assist me onto the stretcher.

“Take care of everyone,” I commanded her. “They will need someone.”

“You have my word,” Polina whispered, brushing her lips against the back of my hand.

I patted her cheek and waved encouragingly as they loaded me onto the ambulance. It was only when the doors shut me off from their concerned eyes that I let the darkness have me.

CHAPTER 18

The lights overhead were harsh, and the gray concrete and steel contrasted sharply with the blinding white of the linens. I moved to sit up and take stock of my surroundings, but the sharp pain at my side and a pair of strong hands kept me down.

“Ah, you’re coming around. Excellent.” A doctor, his long white surgical gown billowing around him like the perfect negative of a nun’s black habit, peered down at me with a measuring gaze.

The strong hands belonged to a nurse with tight brown curls and kind eyes. When she sensed I wasn’t going to strain, she loosened her hold and brushed a lock of hair off my forehead.

“You need to stay still, my dear. The doctor is a busy man and doesn’t need to be stitching you up a second time.” She smoothed my sheets as she spoke, her hands being the sort that could never rest idle. She was perhaps a few years older than my mother, but fewer lines of hardship framed her eyes.

“Of course,” I acquiesced, not wanting to repeat the process while conscious. I could feel the tape and gauze that protected a large section of my side. More than a few stitches, I could tell without visual confirmation.

She rewarded my compliance with a cool glass of water and an extra pillow so I wasn’t lying completely prone. Until the water hit my lips, I had no idea how parched I had been.

The doctor removed the dressing to examine the sutures that ran the length of my right flank, and I found myself averting my eyes. With each stroke of his fingers, I felt each stitch burn into my skin like a hot ember.

“I’m sorry, my dear. We’re terribly low on morphine or anything that will do much for the pain. We have to reserve it for the amputees and the like. I’m sure you understand.” The doctor spoke so regretfully, I had to stop myself from apologizing for the inconvenience of being injured. “Healing as well as I might hope for. You’ll be back in the air before you know it.”