Jack Boomer's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Jack Boomer checked his med kit for the third time that morning. Every bandage had its place. Every syringe lined up in perfect rows. He dreamed of joining the elite Rangers, not as a fighter, but as their most trusted combat medic. The kind of medic who could save lives when bullets flew and chaos reigned. The company commander had given him a field aid pavilion just outside the main barracks. Canvas walls stretched over a simple frame. Daylight filtered through, creating a soft glow inside. Jack arranged his supplies on the metal shelves, grouping items by urgency. Trauma gear went closest to the entrance. His hands moved with purpose as he set up cots along the back wall. This would be his proving ground. Every soldier he treated here would be a step toward earning the Rangers' trust. He tested the IV stands, making sure they locked in place. Everything had to work perfectly when the wounded arrived. Jack needed to practice before real casualties showed up. The commander had arranged access to the med bay in the main facility for training. He walked across the compound, boots crunching on gravel. Inside, clean white surfaces reflected the overhead lights. A training dummy lay on the exam table, rigged with sensors to track his responses. Jack pulled on his gloves and grabbed his trauma shears. He ran through the drill. Check airway. Control bleeding. Start fluids. His hands stayed steady as he worked through each step. The timer beeped. Forty-seven seconds from entry to stabilization. He reset the dummy and started again. Next time he'd beat forty-five. After his tenth run, Jack headed to the command building. A corkboard covered most of one wall in the hallway. Military insignias pinned next to maps and tactical notes. Job postings from different companies filled the right side. He scanned the listings, looking for anything about combat medics. The Rangers posted a notice last week. They needed someone with field experience and steady hands under fire. Jack pulled the notice down and folded it into his pocket. He had his facility. He had his training routine. Now he just needed wounded soldiers to prove what he could do.