There Will Be Killing Read Free Page B

head was buzzing and his stomach churned bile, produced by the dawning realization that he was in a war zone where the patients were murdering their doctors. This was worse than anything in a horror movie. He was trapped in a ghastly prison sentence and had a year of his life to spend in this kind of special hell. Why, why, hadn’t he followed in his father’s footsteps and gone to law school instead?
    â€œGood work, Robert David.” Colonel Kohn congratulated Thibeaux with a salute. “Okay folks, that’s it. Clinic people, move out.” Then, privately, “Dr. Moskowitz, as you can see we keep some formality in rounds, trying of course to remember we are doctors here in this place.”
    Israel swallowed. His throat was sandpaper. He felt numb all over, except his fingers, toes were tingling. He didn’t trust his voice but he had to say something. “Yes, sir. Where—where is the clinic again?”
    The Colonel came in closer, put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy, Izzy,” he said quietly. “It’s your first day. Don’t worry, we will get you through this.”
    For the second time today someone had called him Izzy. It took Israel back to more innocent times. It took him back to Morrie who would roar at the irony of his best pal getting saddled with a dorky nickname he’d ditched at the onset of pubescent acne when Iz ze da pits or what? threatened to stick like gum to a shoe.
    What Morrie got stuck with was worse. Much worse. He would trade in his wheelchair for combat boots and jungle fatigues in a heartbeat. And because Israel needed to find some dark humor in something, do a little more penance for the accident no one had ever blamed him for but himself, “Izzy” managed a nod.
    â€œThat’s it,” said Kohn, sounding like a proud coach whose best player hadn’t let a little rough sacking take him out of the game. He even threw in a back slap as he called, “Hey, Gregg, would you be so kind as to take Izzy and Dr. Mikel for the usual introductions at headquarters with The Emperor, then show them the ropes at the clinic?”
    â€œMy pleasure, sir,” Gregg called back and promptly steered his charges out of the air conditioned unit and into the sweltering heat.
    The effect was immediate and intense. Izzy felt like he’d slammed into an invisible forest fire while the humidity simultaneously plunged him under boiling water. He struggled to breathe. Sweat moved down his back and his thighs.
    â€œIt’s hot,” he gasped, and felt so damn stupid. You’re in a war. If you aren’t careful, the patients are going to kill you, and here you are whining about the weather?  
    â€œOh yeah, it’s hot at first, but then…” Gregg gave him a sympathetic look, “…it can get even worse if you’re not careful. You’re not wearing underwear are you?”
    â€œUh. . .”
    â€œBecause you can get a bad rash if you do.”
    â€œYeah, crotch rot is bad,” agreed Mikel, who must not be human because he was not sweating, panting, or showing any signs of physical distress. “Guys bleed down there if it gets bad and if they get infected, it’s worse than bad. You hanging in there, Izzy?”
    â€œYeah, yeah. Fine, fine,” he lied, knowing if this cool cat Mikel in his aviator shades was showing concern, he must look like road kill. Izzy half expected to see buzzards circling overhead while they continued to traipse across the metal tracks that covered the sand and mud stretching to the headquarters it was taking them forever to reach.
    The many different buildings serving various hospital functions that Gregg pointed out en route had a temporary yet somehow established feel—like the Red Cross building that looked a bit like a tropical lounge with a bunch of soldiers hanging around on a thatched roof porch where a stunning brunette suddenly