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Was he kidding? He was delusional, that was for sure. I glanced down at the man on the bed. From what I could tell he was years younger than Bronx, a kid, really. It was sad to see another human being in this condition, and I knew that even with my expertise as a nurse, without the proper equipment, I wouldn’t be able to save him.
“What the fuck you waiting for?” Bronx snapped impatiently, his bark giving me a start.
I took a deep breath because I knew I had to try. “I need clean bandages, saline solution, a bowl of hot, soapy water, a—”
“Fuck, this isn’t a hospital. The hot, soapy water we have, but you’ll work without the rest.”
My heart dropped. He expected me to save his brother with just a bowl of hot, soapy water? “Can you at least find some clean towels or sheets for me to use as bandages?”
His gaze swung to Tamara. “Find something.”
I heard her huff but didn’t acknowledge her as she moved to do Bronx’s bidding. I kept my eyes on Tag’s leg and began to slowly peel away the bandage around his stump, which was stuck to the wound. He cried out when some of the flesh pulled away with it. As I exposed increasingly more of the incision, the air around us turned thick with the rank odor of his infected wound.
“Holy fuck, I can smell that rotten flesh all the way over here!”
Monk wasn’t wrong. I’d smelled this before, but it still turned my stomach. This man was going to die without proper treatment, and soon. I raised my gaze to Bronx, afraid of what his reaction would be when he heard what I had to tell him.
“Your brother is going to die without proper care. I’m a nurse, not a doctor. There’s only so much I can do. And you don’t have any of the things that I need to give him half a chance.”
Tamara came back into the room and handed me what looked to be an old hand towel that I wasn’t even sure was clean, along with a thin, green sheet.
I was in a nightmare.
“Bitch, where’s the hot, soapy water?”
She made a ticking sound with her tongue. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” She indicated Monk with distaste. “You’re the one I’m banging.”
With the speed of a striking cobra, Bronx reached across the bed and slapped her hard. “Keep up the attitude, bitch, and I’ll give you to Monk.”
With a cry Tamara covered her cheek and glared at him as angry tears built in her eyes. “You’re a fucking bastard!” she hissed, quickly moving out of his reach. Monk snorted, and as she spun around to leave the room, she gave him the finger.
Tag moaned, bringing my attention back to him. I knew in my heart that he was going to die, and Bronx was going to blame me for it. I would try to save him, but instinct warned me that no matter what I did, it wouldn’t be enough. I kept my gaze lowered and patiently waited for Tamara to return.
“Here,” she snarled with resentment, pushing the bowl against me so that some of the water sloshed over the side.
I glanced around for some place to set the bowl and ended up dragging a round lamp table closer to the bed, which they’d moved into the living room from somewhere else.
I didn’t hold out hope, but asked, “Do you have any alcohol? Rubbing alcohol, vodka? Anything?”
Bronx turned and reached for a bottle that, until now, I hadn’t noticed behind him. I got excited when I saw that it was vodka. It was a natural disinfectant and antiseptic. He shoved it at me, and I went straight to work on Tag’s stump. The bed was going to be a mess when I was done, but we could deal with that later. I soaked the hand towel in the bowl of water, thankful that it was still hot, and began to gently cleanse the stump and the surrounding, damaged skin.
The more dried blood and crusty seepage I cleared away, the better I could see what I was dealing with. The doctor who’d performed the surgery on him had made a nice, neat incision. Unfortunately, since the stitches had come out, I could clearly see that infection had set in.
I looked up at Bronx. “I need a needle and some thread and something we can give him for pain.” The whole time I’d been working on Tag, he’d moaned and moved restlessly beneath my administrations. I was surprised that he hadn’t passed out.
Bronx grunted as if it were a hardship and looked toward Tamara. Words seemed unnecessary, and she got up with a huff. She left the room, mumbling beneath her breath.
“If you can’t find that, then superglue if you have it!” I shouted so that she could hear me.
“Give him some vodka for the pain,” Monk suggested from his spot.
“Anything might help,” I told Bronx. I gave him a minute to pour some down Tag’s throat before I continued to flush the wound clean.
Tamara returned with a bottle in her hand. “Didn’t find any fucking thread or glue, but I found a bottle of expired Tylenol.”
I took the bottle from her and read the expiration date.Damn!It had been expired for two years. It wouldn’t hurt him, but it may not be effective...
As if guessing my thoughts, Bronx ordered, “Stop stalling and give him the fucking pills.”
