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The gathered crowd parted as Doc pushed his way through. “How long is the blade?”
“About this long.” Jireo indicated the distance from the tip of his thumb to his little finger.
“Is he conscious?” Doc asked the question of Laethan, who shook his head, darting a nervous glance to Alora.
Jireo swallowed. “He’s weakening.”
Markaeus crawled his way between the legs of the gathered crowd. “Laethan, the blood isn’t coming from that knife up there. It’s from down here.”
Sliding his hand under Kaevin’s stomach, Laethan’s eyebrows arched up. “You’re right—his abdomen is lacerated. Markaeus, you’re gifted with water-source?”
“Yes,” Markaeus replied in a no-big-deal tone. Pursing his lips, he studied Kaevin’s still body. “He’s got a lot of injuries, but almost all the blood is from this one spot.”
“Well done, Markaeus,” said Laethan.
He fairly glowed with Laethan’s praise and would probably have stayed underfoot if Uncle Charles hadn’t called him to the side and whispered something in his ear. Nodding with vigor, Markaeus darted out the door, on some unknown errand.
Alora didn’t have time to wonder where her uncle had sent him, because she felt herself getting weaker by the second.
Working in some kind of miraculous harmony, Doc supported Kaevin as Laethan rolled him on his side. Alora’s head swirled when Laethan moved Kaevin’s ripped shirt out of the way, exposing a gaping wound on his stomach, from which blood poured like a faucet.
Pressing a clean rag into the wound, Laethan caught Doc’s gaze. The two engaged in some kind of silent communication, after which, Laethan asked, “Do you have something that will save him?”
“Maybe,” Doc replied. “I can’t make promises, but I’ll try.”
Just once, I wish these doctors would lie and sound optimistic.
Doc turned his head, calling over his shoulder. “Beth, get me that IV set-up and a bag of saline.”
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Beth’s here?
“Already got it.” Beth handed a fluid-filled bag to her stepfather, sparing Alora a pitiful glance. “When I saw all that blood on the floor, I knew we’d be using it..”
“Should we take him to the hospital in Montana?” asked Uncle Charles, materializing next to Alora and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. His arrival was timely, since her knees had begun to wobble.
“We’ll move him to Montana as soon as we get him stabilized.” Doc answered the question while attempting to insert a needle into Kaevin’s arm. Laethan watched with unbridled curiosity.
Doc mumbled, “Honestly, Charles, we don’t have time to squander right now. His chances are just as good right here.”
Alora’s legs were trembling so hard, she was glad she didn’t have to attempt another transport at that moment.
Struggling with the needle, Doc lost his temper, cursing before making another attempt. “He’s lost so much blood, I can’t find the vein... There! Finally!”
“Let’s get him off the floor.” Laethan issued orders, and people scrambled to follow them. In seconds, Kaevin was on a bed with an assistant keeping pressure on his stomach wound.
Doc handed the IV bag to Jireo. “Hold this. Since you’re obviously not leaving, you can make yourself useful.”
Laethan barked, “Here, Alora. You stand by his head and hold his hand. Kiss him, if you must. For once, I’ll not complain of impropriety. Use that bond to keep your soulmate alive.”
“I can’t work on his abdomen with this knife handle sticking out of his back,” Doc murmured, though the explanation was probably meant for Alora rather than Laethan, who was already jerking the blade free. Fastening a wad of clean cloth over the wound to apply pressure, they rolled Kaevin to his back.
“I’ll need a lot of clean rags to soak up the blood, so I can see the damage.”
As if by magic, Beth appeared with a pile of white cloths.
Mumbling something about “barbaric conditions” and “infections,” Doc pulled on a pair of latex gloves and ripped open a paper bag full of instruments.
