My leg twitched fiercely, a barometer to something I couldn’t pinpoint. And of course, pain so engulfing I felt myself to be halfway dead, watching myself slip this mortal coil by degrees. I was feverish but thankful to the two privates who had picked me up and carried me to the makeshift hospital. They’d given me biscuit, which I ate lying on my back, trying not to notice the mealy worms already traversing my leg. The soldiers left me with good wishes, and I waited between a groaning bullet-ridden animal of a sergeant and a deadbeat soldier who looked more sullen than sick. I was becoming mechanical, and panicked, because now I would be assured a false limb, at least. Eb, the limb-maker, would come for me and we would further merge identities.
I waited, adjusting my tourniquet and diggin
