I placed my finger on a spot two inches above her knee and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I then took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and began to cut.
* * * * *
While stitching a flap of skin over the stump of Raji’s amputated leg, I heard a new voice. I looked toward the doorway to see an Italian officer.
“Who is in charge here?” he asked.
I pointed with my needle toward a body on the floor. “He is.” I turned back to my work.
It was the body of the warden. Kabilis and Mohammed had tried very hard to save his life, but the rifle bullet that entered his skull through the right eye left very little to work with. He died shortly after Martinez and Danichew dragged him into the infirmary.
Martinez now sat calmly on a table, smoking a cigarette and waiting for me to work on his left
