There's a lot of questions left unanswered and not much time for me to solve the puzzles. A lot of people are counting on me to help pull things through, and I'm worried that I won't be able to provide them with everything they need before time runs out. My hands shake too much, and the tremors are not just caused by stress. I'm not scared of dying. I'm simply scared of leaving this world with unfinished responsibilities. When I die, what if I haven't completed all that I must for the ones I love? *** The doctor placed her hands together and rubbed them absently. "If we don't do the operation, his risks of dying are extremely high." The doctor placed some test results on a small table in the room. "Here are his results. Bacteria counts... so on." She sighed. "If you choose to do the surgery, we'll have to send you to a hospital in Nashville. We don't have the proper equipment to perform the operation here." *** Luis screamed for Homer at the top of his lungs. The boy watched from his semi-safe zone as Homer ducked behind a dead body to avoid shots. Luis was crying, bellowing Homer's name as he called for the man to hurry to the blind-zone away from the overhead German marksmen. Homer looked briefly at Luis, tears streaming down his face, eyes red, and he threw the dead man over his shoulder as a protective shield. His steps burned as he jogged as quickly as he could toward the blind-zone. Machine gun fire flew off in the near distance and Homer screamed as he hit the ground in scurried ducking. The weight of the dead man landed on top of him. Keeping the lost-soldier over him as continued shield, he pulled his way to Luis using his arms. Ten more feet. Just ten.
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