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“Only one to the back—fucking asshole. If you are going to shoot me, at least have the decency to do it to my face,” Wells said as he turned and showed us the hole in the back of his shirt.
“For once, I came out clean,” Jones said with a chuckle.
“I swear we are cursed. The newest woman in the group always gets injured,” Christine observed. She pursed her lips, unable to shake her concern.
“You’re right! It’s like a rite of passage,” Jasmine said with a laugh.
“I’ve got to ask. You’re going to warn the next one, right?” I tried to bite back a pained smile. I hid the action by glancing around to observe the work of the team Bob brought with him. The agents moved quickly. The victims were already wrapped in blankets and sipping from bottles of water. There was a first-aid station with a line, and several medical professionals were tending to some of the worse-off victims.
“You mean you’re going to warn the next one?” Christine brought my attention back to the group.
“No, I mean you. I’m heading back to my field office. Bob’s got a lot of work to handle between the NYC takedown and now this investigation. I’ve got to do my part while looking for our next lead.” I planned to use my resources to try to find Brent Ricketts myself.
Christine and Jasmine narrowed their eyes, like they wanted to say something, but they held back. Christine chewed on her lip, then looked in Bob’s direction.
“Does anyone want to dig this out of my shoulder?” If the bullet wasn’t lodged too deep, then removing it without hospital involvement was ideal. As nice as it would be to be numbed and have strong painkillers, they’d put me out of commission longer. I needed to get back to work; I needed a new mission—a new purpose. My doctor back home could write me a script for antibiotics and painkillers.
Mendez shook his head like he wanted to lecture me about avoiding a hospital, but he didn’t bother. He sighed instead. “Let’s take a look.” He sat me down on a chair that Garcia pulled out of one of the houses. Wells pulled the first-aid kit from the boat and handed it to Mendez. Wells turned on a flashlight and pointed it at my shoulder.
“Have you been shot before?” Mendez asked as he opened the kit and pulled out the disinfectant. The strong smell burned my nose.
“Yeah.”
“Then you know this is the worst part.” He laid his left hand flat against my back, next to the wound. “Brace yourself.”
He poured the alcohol on the wound. I stuffed the bottom of my shirt into my mouth and then screamed into it. Adam grabbed my hand and held it. Maybe we should have gone to the hospital; at least I would have gotten anesthetic.
I could feel the heat of Mendez’s face near my shoulder as he looked at it closely. “Did this graze the edge of your vest?”
He tapped the bullet with a pair of tweezers. “Yes,” I hissed.
“You got lucky. It definitely made this a lot better for you. If it hadn’t, you’d be on a gurney and in emergency surgery at the closest hospital, if you survived the impact. It’s in the muscle, and it’s missed everything major. I’m going to dig it out, clean out the area, and close it up. You still have to go to the hospital. You’ll want x-rays to make sure there were no fragments left behind and strong painkillers to put you on your ass for a few days. They may even want to give you a transfusion. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he commented.
The sun was rising, and it blinded me. I closed my eyes and nodded. I wanted this over with, and if I fought him, it would drag out the pain longer.
The tweezers poked around again, and I thought I was going to lose my shit. And in that moment, I completely regretted not letting the hospital take care of the removal.
“Fuck!” The fabric of the shirt muffled the sound.
“Almost got it,” Mendez mumbled.
Adam squatted in front of me. “You okay?” he asked. I wasn’t going to lie to him when I visibly wasn’t. I shook my head but declined his offer to have Mendez stop.
A minute later, he dropped the bullet into my hand. He poured alcohol in the wound again, and I almost vomited from the pain. It was a wonder I didn’t lose consciousness. Adam held me in place so that I wouldn’t thrash around.
“Just hang in there. You’re almost done. I just need to close this up,” Mendez said softly.
“I didn’t realize they taught non-medic soldiers how to run surgeries. This is more than basic combat lifesaving skills,” I joked through gritted teeth.
“They don’t. I learned this on YouTube,” he replied.
“What?” I asked in shock. I tried to look at him behind me, but Adam caught my head between his hands and held me still.
“I’m just kidding, Abby. This is basic lifesaving. This isn’t ACL surgery. It’s removing a bullet—common in combat,” Mendez said with a snort.
“Have you done this before?” I asked.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. If the answer was no, I was going to be terrified.
