Chapter 11: Medical Miracles.
"In another moment down went Alice (into the rabbit hole) after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again."
-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
"What's going on?" Sebastian asked as he slid into the seat across from John. They were in a bar near John's childhood home, and there was a fight going on in the middle of the room that was the subject of Sebastian's inquiry.
"I think the skinny one looked at the other man's girlfriend," John offered, who hadn't really been paying attention to the fight. People who were obviously watching were more likely to be pulled into it. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mundane problems of drunken men, and took another sip of his beer. That was when the now-familiar ringtone rang out, and Sebastian took out his phone reluctantly. His eyes widened at whatever text his boss had just sent him, and John had to hold himself back from asking what it was.
"I'll be right back," he said, and got up. John waved a hand, signaling that it was fine (it's all fine). But once Sebastian turned his back, he let his face fall into a thoughtful frown. Usually a text from the mysterious boss would send his friend running for his work. And they'd never gotten any sort of reaction, aside from an apologetic grimace. Something was different, but what? John decided to just pay the bill and follow Sebastian. He could ask him what was going on, even if he couldn't get an answer.
So he slipped outside a few seconds later, looking around, and seeing Sebastian a ways away, talking on his phone animatedly. He headed towards him, catching the end of the conversation on Sebastian's side.
"Absolutely. With my life. Yes. I don't know. Yes." Sebastian noticed John coming up beside him. He gave him a warning look, and held up a finger in the universal 'give me a second' sign. John backed off, still in hearing distance, but not close enough to hear anything of the man on the other side of the phone call. "I will. Two minutes, then around ten. Yeah, me too. Okay." Then he hung up, and looked at John.
It was an odd sort of look. Not the sort you'd give a friend, but one you'd give a competitor, a sweeping look up and down, an evaluation. John just stood there through it. Although it was invasive, it lacked the feeling that your entire life story was being read in your posture, so it was mild in John's books. When his friend met his eyes, John raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"It was my boss," Sebastian said unnecessarily. "There's been a situation."
"I've already paid the bill," John said, anticipating his friend's next request to leave. "We can see each other the same time next week? I'll text you the-"
"No, this time is a bit different, and I've got to talk fast, because from what I hear, it's life or death. Our doctor's been shot, and there were others hurt in the same incident. We need a good doctor, willing to work under bad conditions, who can keep a secret." The words hung in the air, and Sebastian's measuring look suddenly made sense. "I recommended you. You saved my life, I believe you can save these people as well."
"I…" John faltered. He didn't really know anything about the situation, and Sebastian was being frustratingly vague. But there were lives on the line, and no matter what, John was a doctor, first and foremost. "Yes. I'll come."
"Thank you," Sebastian said, sounding relieved. He pulled out his phone, took all of three seconds to send a text, and tucked it back in his pocket. "Keep up, we're going to be travelling pretty quickly. It's bad." He took off running and John followed him, trying not to lose sight of him in the crowd on the sidewalks. It was a rather long run, and John was a bit out of breath by the end of it. Then Sebastian took a turn down a side alley. John hesitated for a moment, then followed him in.
There was a black car in the alley, half-hidden by shadows. Sebastian threw open one of the doors, and looked back to John.
"Hurry up!" he called, and slid inside. John got into the passenger's side, and glanced over at his friend. "Just as a warning, we might break a couple traffic laws. Don't worry about the police, we've got the priority. Just don't throw up on me, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he pulled out into traffic and, true to his word, drove like a maniac.
John watched out his window as the city blurred around them. Sebastian wasn't as bad as Moriarty. He didn't speed through intersections, and he was constantly muttering apologies as he cut people off. But he was close, very close.
"Sorry," Sebastian said to him. "I hate driving like this, but it has to happen sometimes."
"It's fine, I've seen worse," John said truthfully, which earned him a skeptical look from Sebastian before the man turned his attention back to the mess he was making of the road.
Finally, they pulled onto a side street, through a few alleys, and onto a wide back road leading to a warehouse on the river. The doors were open, and they drove into the huge, looming building. Sebastian screeched to a stop, and they both jumped out as the front doors of the warehouse began to close with a horrible rattling screech of metal on metal. Sebastian led the way, and John looked around himself with wide eyes.
They were in a large room, filled with vehicles of all sorts. Black stretch limos, bright neon-coloured cars, an ambulance, a circus truck, police cars, and cabs. Then Sebastian was ushering him through a door on the far wall, and they were in a concrete hallway lined with open doorways. As they ran, John peeked through them, getting snapshots of movement and odd scenes. There were laboratories, storage rooms, a library, a restaurant, and other strange setups. They passed them all by and turned onto another hallway, which sloped up slightly, and had closed doors along it.
Sebastian led him up and stopped, pushing one of the doors open and gesturing John inside. He stepped in, and was hit with a familiar scene. Surgery tables and women in white uniforms, red on their gloves, three of them, rushing around. They all stopped when the two men came in, turning.
"The doctor is here," Sebastian said. "You'll take orders from him now." They all nodded and turned to John.
"Alright. So, all of you know what you're doing?" John asked. There was a little pause, and then two of them shook their heads, the other made a wavering sign. "Use words, your left to right, and talk quick. I need to know what I'm dealing with, and I need it from someone who can actually tell."
"I don't know anything!" the first one cried. "My brother was shot, and he's not-"
"And you?" John cut her off, pointing at the next one. Usually he wouldn't be so rude, but if lives were at stake, they were far more valuable than one woman's feelings.
"I don't know either," said the girl, and she truly was a girl, probably not even eighteen yet.
"I know a little," the last woman said. "I helped the last doctor, but he always did the actual work."
"Fine. You two leave, you stay and help," John said, waving a hand at the useless ones and nodding to the red-head who had been the doctor's assistant. "Tell me what's happening, and quickly."
"There are five patients still alive, they were all shot around ten minutes ago," she said quickly. "One woman, three men, and a child. Woman in the left chest, child in the leg and lower abdomen, one man center chest, one lower back, and one in the leg."
"Get me whatever painkillers you have in IV. Something to get the bullets out, something to cauterize the wounds, your suture equipment, bandages, antiseptic, a mask and gloves for me," John reeled off, mindful of the fact that Sebastian had warned him they didn't have too many resources. The oddness of this was pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on working with what he had. He pulled off his jacket, simply tossing it into a far corner, and slipped on the gloves and mask the red-head girl had given him. Then he assisted the woman in hanging up the IV tubes and setting the drip-time, sliding them into his patients' veins with a practiced motion. Then he hesitated.
This was the deliberation of an army doctor. When there were too many people, you had to prioritize. Who was in need of immediate care? Who could survive an hour by themselves? And, the hardest decision, who was too far gone? If you spent crucial time trying to help them, someone else could die, and if they weren't savable, they would die anyways.
Quick, John, think! he told himself, bringing up diagrams in his head as he moved from patient to patient, estimating the damage for each wound. Who would bleed out when? Who could he stitch up quickly and come back to later? Calculate, quickly, and then act.
So John moved to his first patient, giving rapid orders to his single nurse to bandage another one until he could get there, half-watching her movements and then focusing on getting out the piece of metal that had made its way so deeply into its target.
The next hours were exhausting, bloody, and stressful. But John found himself feeling alive again, finally. With the needle in his fingers, and the wounds closing like lips, sewn with black thread and covered with white gauze. Blood on his gloves and smeared over skin. The clatter the bullets made when he dropped them onto the metal tray. And the sizzle, the stomach-turning smell of burning flesh when he cauterized the bullet-holes that needed it. Red blood, pale skin, black thread. Bone flashing through at him in some places, so delicate and beautiful, all of it overwhelming and bright, so real and dreamlike.
And then was the moment when John looked down and saw the little girl he'd just saved. He hadn't even seen her face before, too focused on the holes the bullets had torn in her body, only seeing her blood and injuries. But now he could see her, so young, probably only seven years old. Her dark hair cut short, cheeks hollow with past hunger, and skin pale with blood loss. The bandages barely stood out against it, almost white as it was.
Then he was moving on to the next patient, but the image had stuck in his brain. John knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that wasn't absorbed in the stitches and calculations, that it wasn't an image he would forget. The little girl had somehow been shot, introduced to the horrors of the world so early, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he had questions.
But one of the men was coughing up blood, and John was moving to his side, even though he'd known this would happen. The bullet had gotten his lung, and it had only been a matter of time before it filled with blood. He watched as the blue eyes dulled and the man slumped, surrendering to death. And the questions were lost as he moved on, leaving the dead man behind so that he could give the others a chance at life.
Blood. Veins. Pulse. Breath. Thread. Needle. Bone. Metal. Morphine. Antiseptic. Cold skin. Bandages. Minutes, hours, seconds, passing, his fingers cramping and his vision blurring, almost finished, almost done.
And then the last wound was covered with a white bandage, and John stared along the row of people, at the red soaking through the bandages, and the nurse just staring at him.
"Get people. They just have to put pressure on some of the wounds. The ones with blood, see, you might have to change. Press gently, make sure it all goes right. Wake me up if anyone's dying." John wasn't really making much sense, not his thoughts even, they were all muddled and fuzzy. But the adrenaline rush had long since faded, and he was so very, very tired. So he stumbled his way over to an empty medical bed and let himself fall onto it. It felt ridiculously soft, and he didn't even feel his eyes close.
A/N:Well, then. Looks like I have readers! I was so pleasantly surprised to find all your comments waiting for me when I finally logged in! I will not doubt you again, I promise!
And I must apologize for the slow chapters. Just like you, I want it to be action all the time, but if there's no actual time apart, it seemed sort of ridiculous to separate them at all. Nevertheless, sorry. From now on, I'll post the boring chapters with a really exciting one. Like the next chapter, where Sebastian's 'mysterious' employer is revealed. There's really no point in suspense when we all know who it is, but you can't blame me for savoring the moment, can you?
I really liked getting all that feedback, even the criticism of the boring chapters. If you have something to say, then speak up! Don't go back into the shadows after this, please! See you next time for Melodramatic Madmen, which should be up very soon indeed.