"Make way! Emergency pneumothorax!"
A medic, hands covered in blood, shouted as he and another soldier carried a stretcher through the corridor crowded with lightly injured soldiers. The young soldier on the stretcher had a chest covered in a blurred, dark red, emitting a terrifying, blood-filled hiss with his weak and rapid breaths.
In the makeshift infirmary, rows of stretchers were laid directly on the cold floor. A soldier who had lost a leg was injected with morphine and stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Plasma! O-negative blood is out! Go find some, quick!"
The lead surgeon shouted hoarsely without looking up. Next to him, a nurse was struggling to hold down a soldier with a bullet wound in his stomach, who was writhing and howling in pain, his warm intestines protruding through her fingers.
Meanwhile, in Austin, the underground command center.
