With Anna's help, the young nurse rose to her feet. The announcement that this stranger would teach her suturing left her bewildered, staring at her rescuer without comprehension.
Anna didn't bother explaining further. She took the needle, crouched beside the man's leg, and began preparing.
"H-Hey—can you actually do this?!"
Watching this teenage girl take the instruments with apparent intent to suture him, the man's bravado evaporated into panic. He tried to pull his leg away.
"Hold still!"
Anna pressed his leg down firmly, gave him a sharp look, then called over her shoulder to the three spectators in the crowd. "You three—get over here and hold him down. Don't let him move!"
"On it!"
Sarah and Allen, who'd been enjoying the show from the crowd, perked up immediately at being called into action. They rushed forward and pinned the man's injured leg in place.
Bryan shook his head with a quiet laugh and followed them over.
"I'm going to start suturing now. Fair warning—this is going to hurt. A lot. Try not to move while I'm working, or the consequences are on you."
Anna finished her preparations and leaned in, positioning the curved needle at the far end of the wound. But with no anesthetic in play, she paused to give one last quiet warning.
The man's earlier bluster had completely abandoned him. He seemed genuinely terrified of the needle, shrinking backward, cold sweat pouring down his forehead, his whole body trembling. The tough guy had vanished.
Bryan raised an eyebrow. Remembering the man's screaming at the nurse moments ago, a theory formed in his mind.
He stepped behind the man, hesitated for just a beat, then placed his hand over the man's eyes. In the gentle, soothing tone an adult might use with a frightened child, he murmured near his ear: "It's okay. It's okay. Don't look. Just bear with it—it'll be over before you know it."
Whether it was the absence of the needle from his sight or Bryan's calm reassurance, the man's rigid body gradually loosened. He relaxed, almost miraculously.
Anna's needle hovered in midair. She stared at Bryan, baffled by how he'd managed that.
But she caught herself—she had a job to do. She lowered her head, guided the needle into the first edge of the wound, and began suturing with practiced, fluid movements. As she worked, she narrated the technique aloud—angle, tension, spacing—turning the procedure into an impromptu lesson.
The instant the needle pierced skin, the man's body jerked violently. Pain twisted his features and his leg tried to buck, but Sarah and Allen held firm.
Every nurse in the room had their eyes locked on Anna's hands, watching her precise technique with undivided attention, absorbing every word.
Anna worked quickly. Despite the wound's considerable length, she finished in short order.
When the last stitch was tied off, spontaneous applause rippled through the onlookers.
The novice nurses looked at Anna with expressions that had transformed from skepticism to open admiration.
"The rest is yours."
Anna wiped the sweat from her forehead, set down the tools, and stood. She turned to the nurse behind her—who was still staring in awe—and gestured for her to handle the bandaging and cleanup.
When Bryan removed his hand from the man's eyes, the man looked down at his neatly sutured thigh. He glanced at Anna, and his tough-guy facade crumbled into something almost sheepish. After a moment's hesitation, he mumbled: "Uh… thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Anna gave him a warm smile—no trace of resentment over his earlier behavior—then turned toward the door. "Come on, let's go wait—"
But as she turned, she found someone standing directly behind her: a woman in her thirties wearing a white coat and black-rimmed glasses. The woman was studying Anna with a faint smile and an appraising gaze that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
"Can I help you?" Anna asked.
"Who taught you to suture like that?"
The woman's eyes were bright with appreciation, clearly impressed by what she'd witnessed. There was a note of genuine curiosity in her voice.
"Dr. April!"
Before Anna could answer, the nurses all leapt to their feet, calling out to the woman in the white coat.
Dr. April turned to them. The warmth in her expression vanished instantly, replaced by a sternness that carried real authority. "What are you standing around for? After everything you just saw and heard, get those patients stitched up. Now."
Without waiting to see them scramble into action, she turned her attention back to Anna.
Hearing the nurses address the woman, Anna realized this was the clinic's physician. She recalled the question. "My mother was a senior charge nurse. She taught me everything."
"Oh?"
Dr. April pushed her glasses up, eyebrows rising with surprise. She'd expected the girl had learned from someone, but a senior charge nurse for a mother was another matter entirely. "Where are you working now?"
"…At the food processing plant."
April frowned. "If you have medical skills, how did you end up assigned to general labor?"
Sensing the confusion in the doctor's tone, Anna went quiet for a moment. "I never told anyone about it."
April's eyes narrowed slightly. She seemed to recognize that Anna didn't want to elaborate and let it go. "What's your name?"
"Anna."
April nodded. Without another word, she slipped her hands into her coat pockets, turned, and headed back upstairs, disappearing from sight in seconds.
Anna watched her go, puzzled by the abrupt conversation and equally abrupt departure.
"Let's sit down."
Bryan's voice pulled everyone back to the present. He walked to the waiting area, chose a seat in the back row by the window, and settled in to watch the street outside.
Sarah and Allen tugged Anna over to the seats beside him.
"What do you think that doctor was getting at with all those questions?" Anna asked, still processing. She turned to Bryan by the window.
She knew that despite appearances, the boy was sharp—perceptive about people in ways that belied his age. She didn't hesitate to ask him directly.
Bryan rested his chin on his hand, as if he'd anticipated the question. He didn't turn around. "What do you think? She wants to recruit you."
"Recruit me?"
Anna straightened in her seat, voice rising with confusion.
Bryan slowly turned his gaze from the window to the clinic's entrance. "I noticed something just now. Aside from the doctor, every single nurse in this clinic is a green rookie who barely knows the basics. It's going to be a long time before any of them can handle patients independently."
"You just demonstrated real skill, and she confirmed your background. She's almost certainly already planning to get you transferred here. I'd bet money on it—you'll be working in this clinic before long."
Understanding dawned. Anna rubbed her forehead with a weary sigh. "Working here or not doesn't really matter to me. I just hope the person we're looking for is the right one. Then at least I'll have kept my promise to Sylvia…"
At the mention of Sylvia's name, the group fell silent. Every head bowed. No one spoke.
Vrrrrmm…
The rumble of an engine broke the quiet. A military truck rolled past the window and eased to a stop in front of the clinic.
"She's here."
At Bryan's low call, the others snapped alert, their somber mood evaporating as they fixed their eyes on the truck.
Click.
The passenger door opened. A Black girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail stepped down from the cab. Behind her, soldiers hopped out of the cargo bed and began unloading crates of medicine.
Anna and Sarah stared at the girl, then looked down at the photograph in the locket in Anna's hand. Their eyes met. The recognition—the joy—was unmistakable.
"It's her!"
...
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