“We can’t let you do that,” Ethan said. He’d walked over to the kitchen table and had picked up the gun, which he now held pointing toward the ground. He wasn’t threatening the doctor directly but hoped the gun did the trick. The doctor’s eyes grew like saucers. He spun on Blayne.
“Explain.”
Blayne gave him a much-abbreviated version of events. Ethan set the gun back on the table and paced.
“And that’s why I tricked you into coming over.”
“With my medical bag?”
“How did he get you to bring the bag?” Ethan asked.
“He told me you wanted to play doctor,” Arnold said, nodding in Blayne’s direction. “Here’s what I need.”
The apartment was consumed by a tense silence as Arnold prepared to operate on the kitchen table, which now served as a makeshift operating table for the wounded Dr. Hennigan. Blayne had run through the house, getting the items requested by Arnold.
Ethan had set about boiling water to sterilize items as Arnold prepped for the impromptu surgery. When everything was ready, Arnold removed the belt supporting Dr. Hennigan’s soaked bandage. He made quick work of the rest of her clothes.
“Blayne, point the flashlight here,” Arnold barked.
Blayne didn’t hesitate and held the flashlight at the wound to give the doctor a better view of the injury. “It’s not as bad as I feared,”
Blayne
Arnold looked up from Dr. Hennigan’s body, meeting the anxious gazes of Blayne and Ethan. He explained, “She’s been shot in the lower left quadrant of her abdomen near the hip. I could stop the internal bleeding, but it was precarious. She’s one lucky person.”
Ethan swallowed. His eyes flicked to the unconscious body, then back to Arnold. “Lucky?” he asked, skepticism entering his voice.
Dr. Muller nodded. “Trust me… An inch in either direction, she would have bled out, and there would have been nothing I could have done to help her. So yes, in this case, she’s lucky. The bullet took a less destructive path. Instead of penetrating the abdominal cavity and damaging internal organs, it hit her pelvic bone, deflecting through muscle and fat tissue before exiting near her lower back.”
Blayne shifted, his knuckles white around the flashlight he continued to hold. “She’s going to be okay?”
Arnold paused. “The wound is serious, and there’s significant blood loss. But her vital signs are stable, so no major arteries were hit. That’s the positive news. She’s not out of the woods yet. And she’s going to need blood. Without a transfusion, I doubt she’ll make it through the night. She’s just lost too much blood.”
Ethan looked at Dr. Hennigan, her blood painting a stark contrast against the kitchen table. He turned to Arnold. “I’m a universal donor.”
Blayne shot Ethan a look of surprise. Ethan’s voice held steady. His eyes reflected a quiet resolve.
“All right,” Arnold said, nodding at Ethan. “Blayne, I need you to gather a few things while I prep Ethan.”
Blayne nodded, ready to follow instructions.
“I need a clean, thin plastic tube—something like a straw or, better, a drip irrigation tube, if you have it for houseplants. I also need rubber bands.”
Blayne moved quickly to rummage through the kitchen. In a cabinet, he found a pack of new, transparent straws he’d purchased for a party he’d thrown over the summer. In the junk drawer, he found the rubber bands he’d been collecting. He handed the items off to Arnold.
“Good,” Muller said, taking the items. Arnold pulled an alcohol swab from his bag to sterilize Ethan’s arm and the area around Hennigan’s wound. He used the straws and rubber bands to create a makeshift tourniquet on Ethan’s arm, tightening it just enough to make the veins stand out.
Arnold inserted a needle into Dr. Hennigan’s arm. Blayne was surprised the makeshift blood transfusion even worked. The blood flowed from Ethan to Hennigan. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t pretty, but it worked.
Arnold monitored the transfusion closely, adjusting the rubber bands when needed to regulate blood flow.
“You don’t need to hold the flashlight anymore, Blayne. It’s gonna be a while. Might as well pull up a chair.”
Blayne sat down and grabbed hold of Ethan’s free hand. Ethan’s eyes flicked to Blayne’s face. Blayne smiled, doing his best to reassure Ethan that everything would be perfectly fine. It was the only assurance Blayne could offer. Ethan was saving a life, even if it washerlife.
It was a couple of hours before Arnold pronounced the transfusion successful. As Arnold pulled the needle out of Ethan’s arm, Blayne let out a breath.
“Ethan, I need to make sure you understand what comes next. Under the best of circumstances, donating blood takes a toll on your body.” Arnold’s gaze steadied on Ethan’s. “First, you need to eat something. Blayne,” Arnold said, turning to him, “do you have raisins or almonds? They’re both rich in iron, which Ethan needs right now.”
