“Thank fucking God,” I whisper, feeling faint. “I need help. There’s someone here bleeding really heavily, and I need to stop it before he… before he….”
“You need to get him to a hospital,” he says, matter-of-factly. “If his artery really is cut like you told Saffron, he needs immediate medical attention.”
I shake my head, dread hardening in my gut. “I… can’t. The hospital is not an option.”
“Grace, please tell us what’s happening. We can call an ambulance,” Saffron says, her voice tinny like she’s on speakerphone. “We can help you.”
“There’s no time! Please! I think I can do something, I just need to knowwhat.”
There’s a deep sigh, and then Dr. Herrera asks, “Do you have access to a blade and a lighter?”
“I think so.”
“You’re also going to need gauze, antiseptic, and sutures. Since you don’t have access to that?—”
“I do, actually.” My mind flashes with an image of the room with medical supplies Seven showed me the day we rescued Zorro. “I have all of it.”
Dr. Herrera lets out a long sigh. “Okay. Get all of that, a big knife, and a lighter. Since the hospital is out of the question, you’re going to need to cauterize it.”
“Like…burnit?”
“Exactly,” he says. “It’s been done in the field successfully in the past, when the situation is dire. It’s not sterile, or recommended, but if what you say is true, it’s our only option.”
“Okay.” I stand on shaking legs. “Okay, I’m going to grab the stuff.”
“I’ll stay on the line.”
Taking a deep breath, I stand and make my way out of the room in search of the medical supply room Seven showed me when we found Zorro. I know there will be something in there to help him—I just have to find it first.
It takes me a good fifteen minutes of searching, but I finally locate the room. Blood smears across the door as I push my way inside, and bile rises in my throat when I remember who it belongs to. Shaking my fears aside, I rush over to the large cabinet I saw Seven go to when he was treating the raccoon, hoping there’s something in there for humans.
It takes me a few tries to open the cabinet due to the horrible trembling of my fingers, but once I do, it’s worth it. My eyes fall on a box of medical sutures, and I snatch it up, holding the boxtight to my chest as I scan the shelf for gauze and anything else that might be useful.
I grab a couple of boxes of gauze, some antibiotic ointment, a lighter, plus a roll of that stretchy self-adhesive bandage they use when you give blood. With my arms full of supplies, I rush back to the white room, hoping Seven is still breathing.
I kneel beside his limp body, looking for chest movements, but it doesn’t look like he’s breathing, and the pool of blood has grown considerably larger since I was last here.
My chest clenches with despair, and I begin to fear the worst has happened. Not wanting to believe it, I lean down and press my ear to his chest, praying for a heartbeat.
There! There it is!
It’s weak, but it’s there—though, I know I don't have much time left to help him.
“Okay,” I say into the phone. “Okay. I’m back.”
“Do you have all the supplies?”
“I do.”
Dr. Herrera sighs. “Alright. The first thing you need to do is stop the bleeding. Heat the blade until it’s red-hot, then—carefully—-push the flat of the blade into the wound. You might try peeling the skin apart so you can get deeper into the wound—it’s going to bleed alot,but just keep your cool. Youmustremain calm, Grace. You need a steady hand.”
“Okay…” I swallow hard as I gaze down at Seven, my stomach twisting with dread. I’ve never been formally trained for this. Sure, I’ve taken basic first aid courses and been certified in CPR, but this is so far beyond my abilities. Even if Idomanage to fix his thigh, he could be bleeding internally, or suffer an infection.
But I have to try. It’s his only chance.
Carefully, I heat the blade, waiting until the steel turns a bright orange color before I pull the lighter away. With slick, bloody hands, I inch the tip toward the wound.
“It’s hot. Do I just… go for it?”
