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“We’re out.”
“Fuck. Fine. Numb the area then cut it out. I’m not goin’ to sleep.”
“It’s gonna hurt.”
“No shit.”
Doc hums.
“Gunz, it might be better if you just—” I start, only to be cut off by an adamant biker.
“Not a chance, love. I’m—” His words are severed as a fast-working Doc stabs a needle into Gunz’s bicep and expels a plunger full of liquid. Glaring at the doctor, Gunz curses up a shitstorm.
“Now, lay down.” Not giving Gunz a chance to fight him, Doc grabs his brother’s shoulders and forces him flat onto the stretcher. I move as they move, to keep our fingers entwined. Doc removes Gunz’s belt with a mighty tug, unfastens his jeans, and shoves them down his thighs to get more space to work. Then he folds the edge of his boxer briefs down, exposing the skull tattoo at his pelvis, and disinfects the wound with a squirt of iodine. Enraptured by his no-nonsense way of getting shit done, I watch Doc as my biker stares away from the scene, straight at me. His eyelids flutter open and closed until they come to a solid rest. Once his patient is out, Doc places a pulse-ox on Gunz’s finger, an oxygen mask over his face, and checks his blood pressure with a cuff from the bag.
“What’d you give him?” I ask as quiet as a church mouse, not wanting to disrupt the process.
“A sedative.” Another one of those charming, toothy smiles flashes my way.
In the open bay, Bonez removes his dirty gloves, snaps on a fresh pair from a box on the wall and climbs in beside me. I release Gunz’s limp hand to give his brother’s large body room to maneuver in the smaller space.
In sync, Doc and Bonez work as two bodies, one mind—far better than any doctors I’ve watched on any trauma series before. Or perhaps I’m biased because I’ve never seen this in real life. Not as a professor. Not even as a mother to Adam. He kept the bleeding incidents to a minimum. Skinned knees and a couple of broken bones, which I assume is normal when parenting boys.
They speak in hushed tones as a group of Sacred Sinners, most of whom I don’t recognize, gather at the open doors to watch them work.
“He’s gonna be pissed you put him down,” Bonez states.
“I don’t care. It’s better than havin’ to hold him down and make his old lady listen to him scream.” Doc opens a small refrigerator and extracts a bag of blood. He hangs it on a hook above the stretcher. Then he IVs the sleeping man like he’s done this very thing a million times before and feeds the fresh blood into a vein as Bonez irrigates the wound with a syringe.
In quiet fascination, I curl up on the seat to watch them, and they let me. One pries open the wound as the other fishes a gloved finger into the hole to assess the internal damage.
“Nothin’ major,” Doc announces confidently.
I sigh in relief, and two bikers standing watch throw their arms up in celebration before high-fiving. Tucking my arms around my middle for comfort, I chuckle to myself at their antics. Gunz means a lot to many people. He matters. It’s nice to see others care. Being a loner, it’s been a while since I’ve witnessed this level of give-a-shit. Not since… I was married, I guess. Before our world went haywire and I started on this new path of finding myself. Becoming the real Melanie. Realizing I don’t need anyone, but me and my son. Us against the world. My heart aches at the thought. Such lonely times.
Wrestling their way to the front of the crowd, Loretta and Jade signal to me with a wave of their hands. Not knowing what to do, I return an awkward wave in greeting.
“You need anything?” comes from a black-eyed Loretta.
Shaking my head, I mouth,No thanks.
“We’re here if you need us,” Jade adds, tugging the beanie further down her head, stopping just above her eyes.
Thank you,I mouth, my chest getting all weird and fuzzy. For no reason at all, water clouds my vision. Turning away, I swallow to stop the icky emotions from doing whatever they’re doing. Jade and Loretta were my crew on the inside. I wasn’t alone with them by my side. They made sure of it. Outside, they’re doing the same. I love them for it and appreciate it more than they could ever know.
To get my crap together for Gunz’s sake and my own, I close my eyes to do just that, and I’m transported back there—dark closet, cold floor, shivering, naked.
Loretta nudges my shoulder. “Kit, ya gotta eat.” Her voice crackles with emotion.
Refusing to show weakness, I cup my sore vagina. Viscous liquid coats my palm, remnants of their fun. “I can’t.” Or I’ll wretch.
“Just a bite.” Jade presses a rough piece of bread to my cheek, trying to locate my mouth.
I turn away, my stomach cramping in hunger, in…
“Almost done,” Bonez announces, hurling me back into the now.
I sag in relief, grateful to be here. Grateful to be alive. I shake my head to purge the raw memories.
