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He nodded tightly. “Staged attack, all across the country. This is the anniversary of most of the troops moving in, years ago after September 11th, and they wanted to send a message. They’re calling it a rebellion.”

Olivia worked on his thigh wound. “Makes sense. Do they actually think this is going to make us leave?”

Rex looked at her, his blue eyes flat. “They don’t care if they can kill us instead. I’m patching people up, but they’ve already killed so many.”

The bullet had left only an entry wound. “The bullet is still in here, and I think it’s lodged against your femur. Did you feel the bone break?”

Rex shook his head. “I don’t think so. It hurts like hell, but I can bear weight on it. Numb me up and get the bullet out, Liv.”

She grimaced, hating to do anything blind. It wasn’t like their guards were going to allow them to run down to x-ray. She injected as much lidocaine as she could into the surrounding area. Then stuck her finger into the bullet wound.

If they were in any situation other than a wartime one, she never would have done something so crazy. Even with gloves on, if she nicked her finger on shrapnel or something, there was the chance of cross-contamination, but she had no choice. She had to figure out where the bullet was and if it could be retrieved.

There. Her fingertip brushed against something sharp and metal. “Hand me the twelve-inch forceps.”

With her fingertip on the bullet, she took the forceps from Baylee and guided the end of the instrument down into the wound beside her finger. Then she squeezed the handles, pinching the jaws of the forceps over the bullet. Very carefully, watching Rex for any change, she removed first her right hand, then the bullet, dropping it to the tray beside her.

“Well, I got most of it out. If it shattered, you’re going to have an infection, but it’s all we can do right this moment.”

“Thanks, Liv. I didn’t relish trying to dig it out on my own.”

“And this one is just a flesh wound,” Baylee murmured. “I put a few stitches in it front and back just to hold it together right this minute.”

“Thanks, girls,” Rex said, looking at each of them in turn. “I know they’re going to take me back to my tent, but I’ll be back for you if I can.”

Baylee and Olivia nodded, then the Taliban soldiers were jerking him off the gurney and onto his feet. He staggered a little, then grabbed an overturned IV pole to brace himself against. Olivia was surprised they allowed him to walk out with it, but he did.

She shared a look with Baylee but didn’t say anything. They were in a very dangerous situation, and they weren’t going to aggravate their attackers any more than they had to.

At one point, Taliban guards brought in Trent, but it took her a minute to realize that was who they worked on. The man was bloody and had been shot in the upper leg and through the abdomen. He’d also been beaten with something, she wasn’t sure what. Without equipment, she thought he had a concussion, but there wasn’t much that could be done with that.

“We need a doctor for him,” Baylee said, turning to face the man who spoke such perfect English. The man’s brown eyes were dead. “He has a concussion probably and we aren’t able to stop the bleeding in his leg. We need a surgeon for that.”

“Put a bandage on it,” the man told her coldly. “He’s not going to live long enough to need more than that.”

“Why are you doing this,” Olivia asked him, unable to help herself. “We’re trying to help your people.”

The man’s face turned livid, and he stepped forward to loom over her. Olivia tried not to flinch. “No, you are trying to undermine a culture that has been in place for thousands of years. You have no business being here. You have no business bringing your ways to our country.”

“And yet, you have obviously benefitted from our ways,” Olivia said, lifting her chin. “I can’t even hear an accent in your voice. Obviously, you’ve been educated by…”

The man snarled into her face. The fist came from out of nowhere before she could finish her sentence, knocking her to the ground. Everything went dark.

* * *

Olivia woke sometime later, something bundled under her head. There was an ice pack on the left side of her face, but it throbbed.

“Oh, thank God you’re awake,” Baylee breathed, leaning over her. “You’ve been out for hours.”

Olivia could feel that. Her back ached from lying flat and she had to pee so bad… Sitting up, she looked around. There were two guards at the door, but no patients on the table. “What happened to Trent?”

“They carried him out. I doubt he’s still alive.”

Olivia looked up at her, understanding the flat voice. It was a way they all had learned to try to protect themselves from emotional hurt when they lost a patient they knew. “We did what we could for him,” she said, gripping Baylee’s arm.

A tear slipped down the other woman’s cheek, and she rubbed it away on her shoulder. “I know. It’s just…”

“I know,” Olivia whispered. She tensed, readying herself to get up. “I need to pee.”