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Chapter 1
World Of Hurt
Lia Moreno removed her hands from her patient’s abdomen and flexed them for a moment. After more than forty hours of surgery with only minimal breaks, her muscle aches were starting to have aches of their own. She wasn’t at the point where she needed to collapse, but taking mini-breaks to stretch and flex her hands was vital. And finding a bathroom would soon be a matter of necessity.
First, she needed to finish patching up her patient. Mr. Johnson had been one of hundreds seriously injured in a major pile up on the 285. A gas tanker had exploded and the resulting domino effects had hundreds of people injured. She’d bet all the operating rooms in Atlanta were full and all the surgeons were going to be busy for hours yet.
“Need me to take over?” Dr. Larry Oliver’s snide question had Lia rolling her lips together to keep her own snide remark internal. The pompous ass hated the fact that she was the lead surgeon. In the asshat’s opinion, he was more worthy simply because he was male and a decade older. His skills didn’t match his opinion.
Lia kept her own voice calm and pleasant. “Of course not.” If she left Mr. Johnson’s intestines in Larry’s hands, the man might end up with a colostomy bag. She intended to make sure that didn’t happen.
Another hour later, she finished the final repair. “Time to close up and get Mr. Johnson on to a full recovery. Well done, team. How’s he doing, Dr. Ibrahim?”
As the anesthesiologist, Casilda had been working hours as long as Lia. They made a good team and Lia requested her whenever possible. She was calm, steady, and kept the tone light with her knowledge of the staff. Casilda remembered every birthday, every child, every grandparent of the team. She somehow even tracked the dates of all the singles on staff.
Which took the pressure off Lia. With Casilda in the room, Lia could concentrate on what she did best. Her surgical skills were excellent. Her people skills? Not so much.
She’d never got the hang of the whole friendship thing. Growing up homeless, then in foster care, meant her trust factor was pretty low. Her conversational skills weren’t much higher. Being several years younger than her colleagues in medical school hadn’t improved things much.
Lia blinked hard and cleared her mind. The OR was no place for a wandering mind. She wasn’t even sure what day it was or how many hours it had been since she’d eaten, but that was no excuse. Her patients required her best, and that’s what they got. Every time.
If it was any other surgeon, she’d ask them to close for her, but Larry would see it as a sign of weakness and use it against her. Even though he’d just come off his second four-hour sleep cycle and she hadn’t taken one yet.
Mr. Johnson would be much better off if Lia finished the operation, so she would do that.
A crash and raised voices sounded outside the OR, but no one flinched. A hospital was often filled with chaotic noise, both human and otherwise. Emotions obviously ran high and it was rare if a day went by without someone striking out in some way because of grief.
Casilda started singing, and Lia’s muscles loosened. The doctor could easily have made a living starring on Broadway, but Lia was very glad she’d chosen medicine instead.
Lia hadn’t ever been surrounded by music, but she’d learned many of Casilda’s favorites. This one was Think Of Me from Phantom of the Opera. The music was haunting, and the lyrics were sad and hopeful at the same time. Filled with longing for what had been and what might be again.
With her focus on her patient and the music, Lia didn’t realize the noises were close to the OR until the door flew open and banged against the wall.
Lia leaned over to cover her patient from any germs. “What the hell?”
Larry let out a yelp and dropped to the floor.
Lia looked up to find one young man holding another. Blood covered them both. The young man being carried appeared unconscious and to be the source of the blood.
The man carrying him also waved a handgun. He wouldn’t have a lot of control with his arms full, but in a room this small, he wouldn’t need much control to kill.
The man, a boy really, looked around the room with wide eyes and then at the door. Casilda had stopped singing so now they could hear the voices outside.
He shouted at the door. “Anyone comes in here and people start dying.” Panic covered his face along with the sweat. From her angle she didn’t think he was injured.
The gun pointed in her direction. “You. You need to fix my brother. Now.”
“I will. I need to finish up with Mr. Johnson here, and then I’ll look at your brother. You need to stay over there. The room has already been contaminated, and we need to close up this wound quickly.”
“No. Fix my brother now.” He waved the gun at her with a shaky hand.
“I can’t. I’m covered in Mr. Johnson’s blood and if I touch your brother, it could kill him. We’ll be done in a few minutes. Tabora, pass me a new clamp and aim the suction here please.”
“Hey, bitch. You need to fix my brother.”
Med school had taught her to be calm in all circumstances, but having a gun pointed at her wasn’t part of her training. She rarely let her temper show, but she was too tired to control it. “Look buddy, I’ve been working at saving this man’s life for the past six hours. I’m not letting him die. If you want the same dedication for your brother, you’ll give me five damn minutes. Now be quiet and let me concentrate. Tabora, the clamp please.”
No one said a word while Lia finished as quickly as she could. Noises from outside the room tried to penetrate, but she ignored it all.
