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She shut off like a light, red eyes rolling back, limbs going limp.
It took seconds, only seconds. There was a flurry of movement as Geller was rolled away, her unconscious body restrained.
“Get her to the MTs, get her transported,” Eve ordered. “Move.”
“We got an officer down.”
“What?” Wiping the blood from her face, Eve gained her feet, spun around.
And saw Peabody lying on the floor, bleeding, the scissors jammed deep into her shoulder.
“No. Goddamn it. No.” She was on her knees in one fast move, and without thinking brushing her hand over Peabody’s white face.
“Zigged right, should’ve zagged left,” Peabody managed. She turned her head, stared dully at the bright silver scissors. “It’s not too bad, is it? Not too bad.”
“No, it’s nothing. Get me a medical, now. Right now!” Eve stripped off her jacket, prepared to use it to staunch the flow of blood.
“Pull them out, okay? Wouldja?” Peabody groped for Eve’s hand. “It’s making me pretty sick, having them sticking out of me.”
“Better not. MTs coming up right now. They’ll fix you up.”
“They’d hit an inch over, the riot vest would’ve deflected them. What’re the chances? Really hurts. Jesus, it really hurts. I’m cold. Just shock, right? Right, Dallas? I’m not dying or anything?”
“You’re not dying.” She snagged the wrinkled bedspread from one of the crisis team. “I don’t have time to waste training another aide.”
Eve turned her head as an MT rushed in. “Do something,” she ordered.
Ignoring her, he ran a scanner over the point of entry, took Peabody’s vital signs. “Okay, Officer. What’s your name?”
“Peabody. I’m Peabody. Would you get these goddamn scissors out of me?”
“Sure. I’m going to give you a little something first.”
“Gimme lots. Dallas is the one who lives for pain.”
He smiled at her, set his pressure syringe.
“She’s losing b
lood,” Eve snapped. “Are you just going to let her bleed out on the floor?”
“Just keep the pressure on,” he said mildly. “Too bad about that jacket. Looks like nice fabric. I’m going to pull out the invasive object. On three, Peabody, okay?”
“One, two, three.”
The MT met Eve’s eyes, and mouthed: Hold her down.
Eve felt it in her gut, felt the sharp shock of the blades slicing out of Peabody’s flesh. Felt it in the quick jerk of her aide’s body against her restraining hands.
Blood flowed over her fingers, warm and wet.
Then she was nudged out of the way, while the MT worked on the wound.
Twenty minutes later she was pacing the ER waiting room. She’d nearly decked the doctor who’d ordered her out of the treatment area. Had restrained herself only because she figured the medical had to be conscious to work on Peabody.
McNab burst through the doors in a limping run, with Roarke right behind him.
“Where is she? What are they doing for her? How bad is it?”
