the beginning: XXVII
The Theory of Life
XXVII
The infirmary is ablaze, not in flames, but in blinding light, Yongsun shuts her eyes against the light as she feels it trying to break through her eyelids. A strong gust of wind whips her face, her white coat flaps wildly around her body. When she opens her eyes, the tent is practically gone.
The tent walls look as if they have been cleanly sawed off, there is a faint smell of smoke lingering in the air, the soil has been drained of its colour, leaving it blank — not white, not clear, blank. Yongsun sees the blonde doctor unmoving on the ground, she crawls towards her, hands aching as small rocks and pebbles prick her palms.
Yongsun turns the doctor over seeing glowing red skin oozing with blood, instead of the milky white flesh that should be on the doctor’s neck. Yongsun reaches out and touches the doctor’s jaw who flinches at the contact, Yongsun almost does too, having forgotten how warm flesh feels but she knows it is not supposed to be this warm: scorching to touch. The doctor groans and reaches for her own throat. Yongsun stops her, grabbing the doctor’s wrists and pinning them down.
The doctor cries out in pain, back arching off the ground, taut like a bow. Yongsun looks around for help but sees nothing except for blinding light. She hears the sound of an aircraft hovering overhead, fear grips her tightly, a whistling sound bursts through the air, she hears an explosion near by. More screams follow. Suddenly, a piece of shrapnel imbeds itself in Yongsun’s wrist.
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