Chapter 8
Me-Li-Stagtum
Two days since He had died. I guess that’s how I’m measuring time now. How long since I lost him. What a morbid way to measure time. The commander hadn’t sent us to the battlefield in two days. I was relieved, but I was also getting restless. I hated the chores I was set to do. They were trivial and left me with too much time alone. I needed to do something. Now that I no longer have a pill, I spend an increasing amount of time alone. I spent all my time trapped in my own thoughts. It was very healthy.
On the morning of the second day, I ate a small breakfast. I couldn’t eat any more than a few mouthfuls without feeling like throwing up. It felt wrong to enjoy things when Calla would never enjoy anything again. I sat alone on the edge of the forest. People didn’t like to go near the forest. They said it was too dark and cold. I didn’t mind it for the sole reason that there were never any people. I was sure that when I went into the forest, I could still see the blazing white tents of the camp. I wasn’t in the mood to get lost in an unknown forest so close to the Tiffer border. That was just asking to get killed. As much as I hated life right now, I wanted to be able to get home. Not cause my family any more pain than they already had to go through when I was sent away to war.
Once I finished eating my three mouthfuls of breakfast, I went to the medical tent. Me-Li-Stagtum had asked me to see him again, and I had nothing better to do than wallow in self-pity, so I went to the medical tent. I’m not convinced that he was just checking my physical health; I think he was checking up on me mentally as well. I don’t know if that is really what he meant by his job description, but it was nice to talk to someone besides the annoying voice in my head.
When I entered the medical tent, there were significantly fewer people. Me-Li-Stagtum was at the bedside of an older man. The man had a splint on his leg and bandages around his head. Me-Li-Stagtum was trying to convince him to eat some whèintõmba. If I were him, I wouldn’t have eaten it either. I was so sick of that stuff.
When Me-Li-Stagtum spotted me, he called out, “I’ll be done in a minute. You can take a seat in the same place as last time.”
I nodded in response and headed for the bed in the back of the tent. I walked past so many injured people. In the medic tent, there were four rows of beds: one row against each wall and two rows down the centre. The tent could hold about a hundred people if every bed was being used. I felt awkward sitting there, waiting for him to finish with his patient. It took him nearly twenty minutes to get the man to eat only a few mouthfuls of food. He stopped pushing the man at five spoonfuls.
“How are you, Fi-Rico?” he asked, and he came towards me.
“Fine.”
When he came closer, he looked me up and down and asked, "Have you been eating enough?”
“Yes,” he said, looking unconvinced but letting the topic drop. He turned his attention to my arm.
“Let’s have a look at your arm,” he said, unwrapping the bandages. When the bandages came off, he looked at me with an annoyed expression and said, “You haven’t changed the dressing. Are you a fucking idiot? You’re lucky you came in today; any longer and the infection would be much worse.”
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I didn’t know what to say, and I was so shocked that he had just sworn at me that I stayed quiet. He put a strong-smelling liquid on the cut. It hurt a lot. I pulled my arm away from him. I didn't mean to; it was just a reflex.
“Stay still and let me help you.” His voice was coated with annoyance.
He put more of the strong-smelling liquid on, and this time I kept still despite the pain. He re-wrapped my arm. Even in his annoyance, he did everything gently and expertly. He was young but amazingly good at his job.
“Come find me at dinner,” he said, not as a question but as a demand.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you to sit alone. Also, you need to eat. You can go now,” he waved his hand at me like I was a dog. He then turned his back to me and began packing up his medical supplies.
“Thank you, Me-Li-Stagtum,” I said, giving him a small bow.
“Please call me Staggy. I hate my full name. So formal. Also, don’t bow. I am not your superior. We are the same rank.”
“Then I suppose you can call me Rico.”
I waved instead of bowing this time. I then left the medical tent. Staggy was oddly kind to me. He was annoying and confident in himself, and he cared for me (I think). I didn’t really want to have to put up with him when I didn’t have to, but I assumed that I would find him at dinner. On second thought, I don’t think I had much of a choice. He probably would have hunted me down and dragged me to where he was eating, then forced food down my throat. He was just that kind of guy.
The rainy season had begun, and so had the leaks. I spent the rest of the day sewing patches onto the tent canvas in an attempt to stop it from leaking. It was boring work. I just sat on a ladder all day and sewed patch after patch to the canvas. Every tent in the camp seemed to need patching. My arm hurt, but it wasn’t too bad. It was mild enough to ignore.
* * *
I didn’t really want to, but I grabbed a small plate of dinner. It was rice and lentils. I had never hated lentils until I was drafted into the army. Now I hated lentils with a burning passion. I found Staggy sitting with two other people. I didn’t know either of them.
Staggy waved me over. I curled my legs beneath me and sat down on the grass next to him, resting my plate on my lap.
“Rico I’m so glad you came.” It’s not like I had a choice; “this is Re-Gill and De-Figra; they’re pîdantrës. We went to school together in Sun City, and we just so happened to all end up in the same regiment. Gill, Figra This is Fi-Rico; he is a Bwânnéia.” That was new; Staggy lived in the sun city. Interesting. It explained his self-importance. He had never had to work his ass off on a farm.
I gave them a small wave, but I was feeling very uncomfortable. They were staring at me. I didn’t like them staring at me. I silently cursed Staggy for caring about me. I took a small bite of my rice, hoping to avoid conversation. I had no such luck.
“Rico, where are you from?” Re-Gill had darker skin than me and straight black hair that fell to about his elbows. He had two Tibtans. That was interesting. It was a dying tradition. Most people now opt for more practical, shorter hairstyles (me included).
“I’m from Pallamin. It’s near the Scilanet mountain range.”
“I’ve never heard of Pallamin,” De-Figra said. He had dirty blond hair and skin so pail that if he spent more than two seconds in the sun, he would come out looking like a tomato.
The rest of dinner was mostly them drilling me. They asked me so many questions. It made me very uncomfortable. When I finished my food, I made my excuses and hurried off. Staggy ran after me, “Rico!” I stopped turning to face him and said, "Come join us for breakfast tomorrow.”
“I don’t think I can.” I turned to leave, but he gripped my right arm. His hand looked very white against my skin.
“I know you can, so you will. See you tomorrow.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond. He let go of my wrist and then walked back towards his friends. I had no intention of joining him for breakfast the next morning.
* * *
The next day, I joined Staggy, Re-Gill, and De-Figra for breakfast.
It wasn’t as bad as the night before. They had finished drilling me in every aspect of my life. Now I just sat there as they discussed random sh*t. I would only chip in when I was directly asked to. I didn’t enjoy my meals with them at first, but after dinner on the second day, I was coming around. They weren't too bad.