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Weekly Contest #195
Abby tossed the man’s arm through the open window and into the smoldering pile. Smoke clawed upward as the pile sizzled impatiently. I stepped up to the table, on the right side, so as not to block the light and handed Dr. Strom his forceps. Abby went to get the cautery iron. We maneuvered gracefully around the doctor and his two nurses, who held down a moaning man in a ratty, butternut wool uniform. He was the third of the day to lose a limb, and it was barely ten o’clock. Musket balls were great at breaking things. At least, ...
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