In the room at the end of the hall, doctors are wrapping up a patient with a rudimentary form of gauze. They have been working tirelessly since the break of dawn. In the hallway outside, many more patients await treatment, knowing they may have to wait until tomorrow before they are seen. It is a constant process of transporting stretchers and patients this way and that. And at the end of the hall, I sit with a stranger, about to ask a question. As it turns out, it was a pretty stupid question.

  “So… why are there so many kids here?”

  “Those… are the doctors.” She replies, as if it was common sense.

  My mouth hangs open in silence.

  “The kids are the doctors?”

  “The ones dressed in black? Yes!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “What? Of course! Pak!” The short woman swears, “You aren’t thinking straight!”

  It’s odd, I don’t know what “Pak” means, but I somehow know it’s a curse word. We get a nervous glance from the others in the corridor. She sighs.

  “I don’t know what’s happened to you. It’s like you’ve turned into a completely different person.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on either, okay? I don’t know you! I don’t know where I am! And I don’t know what I’m doing here!”

  “Stop that.” She brushes her hand over my arm, “Calm down. The doctors can fix you.”

  I swallow my spit, trying once again to avoid looking at the bloody arrow which juts out on the edge of my peripheral vision.

  “There’s no point in talking to you right now.” She states bluntly, “After the doctor treats you, let’s talk.”

  I frown at her. I’m acting perfectly reasonable- It’s her attitude that’s the problem! The two of us stare at nothing for a while. Then, from the other end of the hall, a young girl calls out something. The kids who had been languishing on the benches perk up, hoping they might hear their own name.

  “Agnis!” The girl shouts. I can’t discern the word’s meaning. From beside me, the short woman rises to her feet. Where she had been sitting just a moment before, I get a clear view down the length of the bench. In real time I watch a line of hopeful kids slouch down in poorly veiled disappointment. Nope, it’s not their turn quite yet.

  “Agh-ness,” I sound out, curious, “What does that mean?” One of the moping kids spins around to see, as if I’ve said something terrible.

  “What? Is that a bad word?” I whisper.

  Without looking back, the small woman replies:

  “That’s my name.”

  “Oh…”

  “Get up.” She holds out a slender hand to lead me down the corridor.

  We step into a gloomy room, crowded with dozens of wooden chests and unfamiliar tools. It’s crowded with people, too. A small group of black-shrouded kids, all of them girls, stare back at me- or rather, through me. The second the door closes behind us, I am confronted by a girl a little over half my height. She gapes up at me, pale and sweating, as if she were face to face with a ghost. With her anemic complexion, her skeletal features, and the dark shroud cloaking her in black from head to toe, I feel like I’m the one who’s really seeing a ghost. Is this supposed to be my ‘doctor’? She stares off into nothing, muttering something under her breath.

  “Alive… Standing… Breathing…” She pants, shakily reaching out to touch me.

  “Are you-” …really a doctor? I begin to say, only getting as far as “you-”.

  “AAAIEEE!” She shrieks, yanking her hand away.

  “WHA!?” I shout, jumping in surprise. I glance, bewildered, back at the little woman who dragged me to this supposed “doctor”. Agnis- that was her name. What’s the joke, Agnis? Before I can speak, her face suddenly becomes panicked.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “KRASA!” Agnis yells suddenly, knocking me out of her way.

  “Huh!?”

  I turn back to see the ghostly little “doctor” l holding a knife toward her own face. She stares wildly down the blade as if she were trying to see into the barrel of a gun. Before she can stab it into her eye, Agnis and some of the other kids rush to pry away the long knife from her.

  “LET GO!” Agnis shouts.

  The girl is hysterical, her wailing voice rising wildly.

  “No! I’m a murderer! I killed her! I’m no doctor! I- I should die.” Tears well in her eyes. The others carry the knife away as she grasps wildly at it. My jaw is on the floor. This is my fucking doctor? I need to get off this god damned boat.

  “Krasa! Stop!” Agnis commands. Krasa- that must be her name.

  The young girl lets out a frustrated moan as she is lifted off the ground. I gawk at Agnis, who has suddenly snatched up the crying girl. She cradles Krasa in her slender arms, bridal style. Everyone hesitates for a moment, a single reprieve of silence from the chaos.

  “You IDIOT!” Agnis hisses.

  Agnis gives the “doctor” an earful. The girl sobs as Agnis continues to rebuke her.

  “She needs medical attention! Right now!” she roars, “Hurting yourself doesn’t help ANYONE!”

  “Sorry- I’m sorry.” The girl whines through her tears. She swallows, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Never do something stupid like that again.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Krasa mumbles shamefully.

  “Are you done freaking out?”

  “Mmmm,” with little balled up fists, Krasa rubs her eyes, “Yes, I am.”

  “If you have to, then apologize. After that, get to work.”

  Agnis gently wipes tears from the girl’s face and brushes a hand over her hair. Seeming relatively calm, Krasa reluctantly paces over toward me. She trembles with emotion, unable to look me in the eyes. Her guilty gaze bores holes into the ground.

  “May I offer you an apology?” She sniffles.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I beg your forgiveness for my grave missteps. I was wrong.”

  “Wha-? Whatever, it’s fine. Did I scare you, or something?”

  “No, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” her face is flushed in shame, “You don’t know, I suppose. You couldn't know. I’ve done something terrible. It was I who testified to the chief that you were dead. I even went against my colleagues’ suggestions. I alone elected to have you sent off. My shame is immeasurable. I can no longer call myself a doctor. Strike me down if you wish to. I’m very sorry, …”

  “You-...” I trail off, taking in her whole bizarre confession.

  Firstly, she’s astonishingly well-spoken for her age. More importantly, what she says makes no sense. I think for a moment. The preceding events replay in my mind.

  I have no idea how I got here in the first place, but when I came to, I was on a burning boat. A flaming arrow hit me in the shoulder. Was there some kind of naval battle going on? If so, where was the enemy? Why was I completely alone out on the water? An ambush? But that doesn’t explain people’s reaction. Everyone I meet seems incredulous to see me alive, especially this kid, who is supposed to be some kind of doctor, apparently. By “sent off”, does she mean… a funeral? And her apology makes no sense. I arrived on this boat merely minutes ago. We’ve only just met. So how can she have already “declared” me dead? And surely, anyone could tell that I’m still alive just by looking at me. Right? I don’t get it. I’m too drained to solve this conundrum. The so-called “doctor” peers up at me with teary eyes.

  “Uh. I forgive you, miss Krasa.”

  “I’m very sorry, ...” She repeats. Again, there’s one word she uses that I don’t understand. “Sip-” something. How I can understand any of these words is beyond me anyways. The girls dust themselves off, and straighten out the room.

  With that strange incident resolved, I’m led over to what seems to be a primitive operation table covered in a large fur. It’s very low to the ground, almost to the point of looking like a coffee table. The girls insist that I lay down on the table. I’m tired of standing, so I begrudgingly humor them. I spot one girl beside me taking out some kind of straw effigy. Little thorns of various colors are stuck into different parts of the doll’s body.

  “Voodoo!?” I exclaim.

  “Sorry, what was that?” Little Krasa politely replies.

  “Tha- OW!” I point over at the straw doll with my left hand for a second before recoiling in pain. Wrong hand, dammit.

  “You don’t need to move, please stay still for me, okay?” Krasa purrs in a saccharine voice which, coming from a girl as young as her, feels quite condescending. She’s entered an entirely different mode than before. But as what’s about to happen dawns on me, I could hardly be bothered to care about her tone.

  I was so caught up with the chaos, I hadn’t considered the idea of actually having medicine done on me by these kids. This “operation room” is not up to standard. It’s barely in the bronze age. Not to mention my loose cannon of a “doctor”. She’s practically half my age! How can she possibly be a doctor!?

  This is absurd. If I stay here, I’m going to die. I’m not doing this. I don’t care if I have to keep this arrow in my shoulder for a bit longer. I’ll try my luck at an actual hospital. I sit up.

  “You need to lay down now, okay?” Krasa says in that same sickly sweet affect.

  “… I’m leaving.”

  “Lay down, or I’m going to make you.” She threatens, sing-songily.