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"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's either a stabbing or a gunshot."
"Gun," the boss man said abruptly.
"I need my surgical team and real surgical equipment, not stuff meant for animals. I'm not used to working in these conditions."
"Well, I suggest you get used to it. His life depends on it and so does yours." He motioned toward the table with the gun, and I walked over to where his friend was lying unconscious.
I pressed two fingers to the side of his neck. His pulse was weak but there. I couldn't tell much about the wound with his shirt on so I turned toward the cabinet to find a pair of scissors. All three of the men in the room jumped to attention when I turned toward the supply cabinet. I nearly ran into the man who had been driving the car.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to get scissors to cut his shirt off so that I can better evaluate the wound. And I need room to work. There's too many of you in here." I kept my voice firm but was careful not to overstep.
"I'm not leaving you alone in here with him." The boss man took a challenging step closer to me, but I didn’t back down. If I was going to save that man and myself, I needed to be able to do my job.
"You really think that I'm going to kill some unconscious man laying on a surgical table? I'm a surgeon. I took an oath to do no harm and that's what I plan on doing, but I can't work while stepping over you and your men."
"Fine.” The boss man turned to address the other men. “You three get out. Stand watch by the door to make sure we don’t have any unexpected visitors."
"You got it boss."
"I'm staying here with you."
"That's fine. You can assist me."
The other men left, and he scowled down at me. "Okay, now quit wasting time and save him.”
I quickly stepped around him, grabbing the scissors, and making a long cut up the middle of his shirt until I could simply pull the fabric away.
"He's lost a lot of blood," I paused, thinking for a moment. "Here, help me roll him over for a second." Boss man had to put the gun away and tucked it into the back of his pants so that he had two free hands to help me pull the man up just enough for me to examine the other side of his shoulder. "Okay. Put him back down." We gently lowered him back. "There's no exit wound, which means the bullet's still in there. He needs blood if he's even going to have a chance at surviving the surgery."
"So, get him some blood."
"If we were at my hospital that wouldn't be an issue but seeing as a dog to human transfusion would probably kill him, I don't have a lot of options right now," I snapped.
"Give him mine."
"It's not that simple. I don't know his blood type. If you have the wrong type—"
"I'm O-negative. Universal donor so let's get on with this," he said impatiently.
"Are you clean?"
"Clean?"
"No blood borne diseases, drugs..."
He scoffed at me incredulously. "No. I'm clean."
"Excuse me for not assuming the strange man who kidnapped me and held me at gunpoint would be the pillar of good health and morality."
I rummaged through the materials that were available to me and was surprised at how closely vet supplies were to those used on humans.
I washed my hands, put on gloves, and started an IV for my patient as well as a line to set up a direct transfusion.
"He's going to need a lot of blood. It's going to make you weak," I said as I rubbed an alcohol wipe over the bend in his arm. It felt strange, treating my captor like a patient but being a doctor, doing what I was used to, helped me feel a little less terrified.
"As long as it doesn't kill me."
