The Convoy

The next morning, the sun cast a soft, golden glow over the camp as Calvin and Lizzie resumed their work at the main treatment center. The air was filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps, hushed conversations, and the occasional cry of pain from a patient. Calvin moved with purpose, his hands deftly cleaning and dressing wounds, checking vitals, and offering reassuring words to those in distress. His skill and efficiency were apparent, and it didn't take long for Lindsay to take notice.

"You're really good at this," Lindsay remarked, her voice cutting through the ambient noise as she watched Calvin expertly tend to a deep laceration on a young man's arm. Her dark brown eyes, sharp and discerning, fixed on him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "Are you a doctor?"

Calvin hesitated, the question hanging in the air for a moment. He glanced at Lizzie, who was busy comforting a small child nearby, then shook his head. "No, I just know how to do this. I've had some training and exp
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