Passion by Lauren Kate Read Free Book Online

clear on her own face. Maybe they had already seen enough of the war to grow used to what it did.
    “Water.” An older woman’s voice came from inside the truck. “Bandages. Gauze.” She was distributing supplies to the girls, who loaded up, then set to work put ing together a makeshift clinic on the side of the road. A row of injured men had already been moved behind the truck for treatment. More were on the way. Luce joined the line for supplies. It was dark and no one said a word to her. She could feel it now—the stress of the young nurses. They must have been trained to keep a poised, calm façade for the soldiers, but when the girl in front of Luce reached up to take her ration of supplies, her hands were shaking.
    calm façade for the soldiers, but when the girl in front of Luce reached up to take her ration of supplies, her hands were shaking.
    Around them, soldiers moved quickly in pairs, carrying the wounded under the arms and by the feet. Some of the men being carried mumbled questions about the bat le, asking how badly they’d been hit. Then there were the ones more seriously injured, whose lips could form no questions because they were too busy biting o screams, who had to be hoisted by the waist because one or both of their legs had been blown of by a land mine.
    “Water.” A jug landed in Luce’s arms. “Bandages. Gauze.” The head nurse dumped the ration of supplies mechanical y, ready to move on to the next girl, but then she didn’t. She xed her gaze on Luce. Her eyes traveled downward, and Luce realized she was stil wearing the heavy wool coat from Luschka’s grandmother in Moscow. Which was a good thing, because underneath the coat were her jeans and but on-down shirt from her current life.
    “Uniform,” the woman final y said in the same monotone, tossing down a white dress and a nurse’s cap like the other girls were wearing.
    Luce nodded grateful y, then ducked behind a truck to change. It was a bil owing white gown that reached her ankles and smel ed strongly of bleach. She tried to wipe the soldier’s blood o her hands, using the wool coat, then tossed it behind a tree. But by the time she’d but oned the nurse’s uniform, rol ed up the sleeves, and tied the belt around her waist, it was completely covered with rusty red streaks.
    She grabbed the supplies and ran back across the road. The scene before her was gruesome. The o cer hadn’t been lying. There were at least a hundred men who needed help. She looked at the bandages in her arms and wondered what it was she should be doing.
    “Nurse!” a man cal ed out. He was sliding a stretcher into the back of an ambulance. “Nurse! This one needs a nurse.” Luce realized that he was talking to her. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Me?” She peered into the ambulance. It was cramped and dark inside. A space that looked like it had been made for two people now held six. The wounded soldiers were laid out on stretchers slid into three-tiered slings on either side. There was no place for Luce except on the floor.
    Someone was shoving her to the side: a man, sliding another stretcher onto the smal empty space on the oor. The soldier laid out on it was unconscious, his black hair plastered across his face.
    “Go on,” the soldier said to Luce. “It’s leaving now.”
    When she didn’t move, he pointed to a wooden stool a xed to the inside of the ambulance’s back door with a crisscrossed rope. He bent down and made a stirrup with his hands to help Luce up onto the stool. Another shel shook the ground, and Luce couldn’t hold back the scream that escaped her lips.
    She glanced apologetical y at the soldier, took a deep breath, and hopped up.
    When she was seated on the tiny stool, he handed up the jug of water and the box of gauze and bandages. He started to shut the door.
    “Wait,” Luce whispered. “What do I do?”
    The man paused. “You know how long the ride to Milan is. Dress their wounds and keep them comfortable. Do the