Page 13 of The Deadly Shallows

They whisked him inside and transferred him to the hospital gurney. The pressure throbbing in his leg began to burn as the adrenaline that had been coursing through him since the first shot sounded dissipated.

The EMT briefed Blotny as they moved down the hall. “His vitals are stable, but the bleeding was quite heavy. He has a tourniquet above the wound along with layers of gauze to keep infection out. I started an IV line with penicillin.”

“Thank you,” Blotny said. “We can take him from here.”

“Take care, man,” the EMT said before heading back to the ambulance.

Noah looked up at Blotny. “Any news on the shooter who was brought in?”

“He’s in surgery with Dr. Kent,” she said as they rolled down the hall, the harsh smell of antiseptic burning his nose.

“Any idea of his chances?” Being the only assailant to survive—at least Noah prayed he survived surgery—he was the only one who could provide answers. What had prompted him and his crew to open fire at a Coast Guard graduation, of all places?

“It’s touch and go, but I’ll try to keep you posted,” Blotny responded as they passed through the imaging center’s double-glass doors. “Now, let’s focus on you.” Blotny frowned. “What is it with you and this leg?”

“Bad luck.” He shrugged and winced at the lancing pain.

“We need an MRA stat,” Blotny said to the imaging tech.

Brooke returned on-site to help the next victim. It would be so easy and natural to fall into the pit of emotions warring through her, but she had a job to do. She was trained to focus on what needed to be done, rather than on the trauma surrounding her.

Rissi hurried to her side as Brooke headed for the main hall, where she’d been directed to find her next patient. Paramedics relayed they had the elderly woman on an IV and oxygen while she waited for the Medevac to return.

“How is Molly doing?” Rissi asked, hurrying her stride to keep up.

Tears welled in Brooke’s eyes, but she quickly swiped them away. She was on duty. She’d have to deal with her sorrow later. “Molly was arriving moments after we took off. I imagine she’s in surgery by now.”

“We’ll keep praying.” Rissi clutched her hand. “Em is keeping tabs on Noah. They are prepping him for surgery now.”

“Did the bullet hit his femoral artery?” Brooke’s chest squeezed tight.

Rissi’s face softened, compassion strong in her gaze. “We don’t know.”

“Ris,” Finn approached from across the room. “Hadley is ready to transfer the first body to the morgue.”

Brooke looked at the sheets draped over the bodies surrounding them—her heart aching as she counted. Twelve. Twelve lives senselessly lost. And the number would rise. Not all the patients in critical condition at the hospital would live. She prayed Molly would pull through, but deep inside she knew better.

“We thought taking them out the rear exit would be less traumatic for those still here,” Finn said, offering Brooke an expression of sympathy.

She appreciated how Noah and his team all loved on her.

“Definitely use the rear,” Rissi said. “Give Hadley the go-ahead, and let Caleb know the ME is starting to transport the deceased. He’ll want to speak with Hadley for sure. Though I can’t image Hadley will have time to start with autopsies today.”

“I’ll let Caleb know.” Finn turned to Brooke. “We’re praying.”

“Thanks.” She nodded and moved for the EMT triaging the elderly lady not twenty feet from her.

She bent down beside the woman. “Medic Brooke Kesler.”

“This is Mrs. Kilpatrick,” the EMT said. “I’m Kyle Michaels.”

“Glad to have you aboard, Kyle.” She turned her attention to the woman. “I’m going to get you to the hospital and take care of you on the way. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

“Than . . . Thank . . . you,” Mrs. Kilpatrick whispered, her eyes glazed with fear.

EMTs and ambulances continued arriving in waves as they moved for the Medevac. Nearby bases and statewide agencies were sending help in what was surely one of the worst domestic tragedies on a military base.

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