Chapter Twenty-Five
Doris slung her satchel over her shoulder and trudged through the gate at the 1st General Hospital compound. After fleeing Frogmore Hospital, she’d walked the streets for hours praying and considering her options. Exhausted and physically spent, she knew how Jacob of the Old Testament felt after wrestling with God. The Lord hadn’t dislocated her hip, but her muscles ached as if she’d stacked ten cords of wood. Stomach growling with hunger, she found shelter in a small church that gave her a plain but filling dinner and a place to sleep. Most of the inhabitants had been displaced by bombs, their vacant, staring eyes indicative of the shock that still enveloped them.
The morning dawned fair and bright, so she gave the priest a few of her coins as a thank you then used t
