Heal or Kill the Mafia Boss

How can a small piece of metal feel so heavy? I look again at the five-pointed star hanging from my neck. "Brave." I should be overflowing with happiness, embracing my comrades and thinking about my promotion to lieutenant. However, all I feel is a pressure in my chest that makes breathing hard.

"This isn’t right. There’s no guilt, no remorse. Why?"

"Sgt. Jenkins."

My thoughts are interrupted. I take a deep breath before standing at attention and walking toward the gray-haired man with small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes—the man I once called Dad. Today, he is nothing more than my superior, General Jenkins. I step into his office and wait for him to close the door.

"You may sit, Sergeant."

I do so immediately, remaining silent as the general walks around his desk and settles in front of me.

"I have to admit, you’ve surprised me. I didn’t expect you to rise through the ranks so quickly, let alone have my daughter decorated by the nation's President with the Medal of Honor. Are you aware of how important this is?"

"Yes, sir," I respond mechanically.

"I know they’re already working on your promotion to lieutenant, and as an officer, you won’t have to return to the front if you don’t want to. With what you’ve done, you’ve already fulfilled your duty on the battlefield, Sergeant."

My father—the general—keeps talking while I get lost in my thoughts. I won’t have to go back to that hell, dodging bullets and watching my friends and comrades die. My job is to save lives—that’s what a combat medic does. But I…

I shake my head to erase the image of all those corpses lying at my feet.

"There’s nothing."

"Is something wrong, Sergeant?" my father inquired.

I lower my gaze to my hands—hands that seem clean but are stained with blood.

"You won’t kill again," echoes in my mind.

I take a deep breath and slowly raise my head.

"I’m done," I say with certainty.

"What did you say?" The general narrows his eyes at me, frowning.

"I’m done here, General. I want to leave the Army."

"You must be joking," he mutters. "Mia, have you lost your mind?! You’re about to be promoted. Your military career is only truly beginning."

I stand up without waiting for his permission and, after removing the medal, toss it onto his desk.

"You can keep it if you like it so much, Dad. You said it yourself—I’ve fulfilled my duty to this nation. Now, I’ll decide how to live the rest of my days."

I turn around and head for the door, but before I can open it, I hear his voice behind me.

"If you walk out that door now, I will no longer recognize you as my daughter. It will be as if you had died in that ambush."

I turn slightly and let one corner of my mouth lift just a couple of centimeters.

"There’s nothing."

"I stopped being your daughter a long time ago. Goodbye, General."

I pull the handle and walk out of the office with a smile.

Two Years Later

I try to read a little, but with the ambulance swaying so much, I can't concentrate. I look up, and George, the driver, shrugs apologetically before running a red light at full speed.

"I don't know how you can focus with the sound of the siren," comments Matt, the paramedic assistant.

The three of us are in the front of the vehicle. We've just received an alert about a multi-vehicle accident on one of the city's busiest avenues. Lately, we've had more work than usual due to the extreme mid-June heat. In Phoenix, summer temperatures are brutal, and although the monsoon season is just beginning, we haven’t had any storms yet—so things could get worse very soon.

I close the book when I see that traffic is getting heavier. I bet we’re close to the accident site. George starts honking insistently, trying to get the bystanders out of their cars and off the road so we can pass. However, it's not until the police arrive that they manage to clear a lane, allowing us to move forward.

"We're the first ones here," I murmur, fixing my gaze on the half-dozen wrecked vehicles visible from my seat.

I assess which one to approach first. One car is hanging from the median. The firefighters have already secured it, but given the way it's nearly split in half, I doubt there are any survivors. And if there are, they'll be in critical condition.

"Jenkins..." Matt murmurs. He's waiting for my orders.

"The blue one," I say, jumping out of the ambulance.

Several firefighters escort me to the vehicle. Matt will be right behind me with the stretcher and medical bags.

"There are two people inside. The driver, a male in his forties, and in the backseat, his son, about four or five years old. Both are alive," one of the firefighters informs me.

Besides securing the vehicle to prevent it from moving, they've also managed to create an opening in the metal to access the injured. I touch the father’s neck and check his pulse—weak. He has a gash on his head and the steering wheel embedded in his chest. He almost certainly has multiple rib and sternum fractures, along with a concussion. I move to check on the child. I press the side of his neck, but I don’t feel a heartbeat.

"Jenkins, which one do we start with?" Matt asks, now beside me.

I dare to lift the child's head and hold my breath when I see the massive gash splitting his skull in two. His face is covered in blood. I inspect the wound and see brain matter spilling from it. I sigh.

"There’s nothing."

"Let’s get the father out. The child is dead."

"He was alive a minute ago," the firefighter protests.

Matt looks at me, frowning.

"It's not too late. We can start CPR and—"

"No," I interrupt him. "The father has a higher chance of survival. That kid’s skull is shattered, and he has severe brain damage. Even if we manage to revive him, and by some miracle, he makes it to the hospital with vital signs, he will never wake up again."

"Jenkins, I’m sure that if that boy’s father were conscious, he would choose to save his son before himself! He’s just a child!"

I lock eyes with him, unwavering.

"Luckily, that’s not his decision to make. And it’s not yours either. Get the cervical collar and set up an IV. We’re stabilizing him before moving him out of the car."

Matt holds my gaze for a few seconds before finally getting to work.

"No life is worth more than another," echoes in my mind.

We managed to stabilize the driver, get him out of the vehicle, transport him to the hospital, and leave the rest of the injured to the other paramedics. Afterward, we return to base, clean the ambulance, restock supplies, and wait for the next call, which doesn't take long to come.

After handling a few minor domestic accidents and a heart attack at the mall—which results in the death of an elderly man—we're just about to end our shift when the radio sends us back into action once again.