A woman in Navy scrubs leaned over me with a flashlight.
“Sergeant Mason Reid?” she asked.
I tried to answer, but my throat felt like sandpaper.
“Easy,” she said. “You’re at Walter Reed. You’ve been in and out for thirty-six hours.”
Walter Reed.
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A woman in Navy scrubs leaned over me with a flashlight.
“Sergeant Mason Reid?” she asked.
I tried to answer, but my throat felt like sandpaper.
“Easy,” she said. “You’re at Walter Reed. You’ve been in and out for thirty-six hours.”
Walter Reed.
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