"Because you stole the foot."

  The gigantic swirl of undoing in the midst of having to do sounded, at first, like quiet ambulances and soft shoes giving little squeaks of changing direction. 

  At first the person in the jalaba wimpered.  Then began to laugh maniacally.  "Another gone over the edge," a nurse told two male orderlies.  "I'll put it back sister." The laughing echo'd down the real hospital hallway.  The center where the tents had been joined to form administration suddenly had a rush of people coming in. 

  "Who were you chasing?" A security personnel asked the writer who'd come to help however I can.  Then she'd been accused of breaking the lock on one of the body part freezers.  Had recognized eyes, a faint scar on a hand.  Had answered questions from all nations involved in the decisions to disband as both medical reds.  And withstood accusations of being the thief who should be stoned this minute. 

  The woman dropped her eyes to the floor in front of the real thief. 

  "Is this truth?" A friend-to-all asked.  Another young woman rushed forward and ripped the black garment off.  The foot was tucked into a waistband of pants like a gun. 

  The tallest nurse grabbed the garment, ordered hands up, and yelled for a photographer.  "It needs to be a military photographer," an administrative director advised.