Onika stood behind her, her golden-brown eyes shrinking as she took in the scene. “We’re not leaving,” Onika said, swallowing and shaking her head. “We’re here to help. All of us.”
Amaris caught movement behind them, and dozens filed into the kitchen with baskets and trunks full of herbs, cloth, and tools.
I have a team.
“What we need is a real mystique, not you,” Gerard spewed.
He was cruel, but Amaris had dealt with much worse in her career. She’d been spat at, puked on, and shit on. Gerard’s bullshit was nothing compared to what she’d seen or dealt with in the field.
“You listen to me.” She stuck out her finger and shoved it into his chest. “I am the mystique. This man needs medical attention, and I can give it to him.” She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes as she ground herteeth against his ugly sneer. “Now get out of my fucking way.”
Amaris felt alive, fighting the nervous energy skittering through her at her defiance. Gerard didn’t budge, but he eyed the others around her, willing to risk their lives to stand on the edge of the line.
“This man die if pale girl don’t help,” Ms. Borstad said with such authority and intimidation that it startled Amaris. She was glad she was on her good side. “You may not see what pale girl did for Theodoric when you sliced back open, but he did.” She pointed a crooked finger at Alan. “She will save him.”
Gerard stood tall and puffed his chest out. His glare shifted to Alan. Amaris waited for Alan to agree with his father and drag her to the dungeons.
“She’s more than capable,” Alan said.
Amaris was stunned. Had the gods of the realm finally answered her prayers?
“If anything happens to him…” Before Gerard finished his threat, he charged through the door.
“Get in line,” Amaris shouted, bolting to her patient lying on the table.
His complexion was a gravely pale color, and he couldn’t speak past a moan. She grabbed her knife and cut open the tear in his pants. He had a large laceration to his right lower leg, with heavy bleeding, but Amaris sighed with relief to see no spurting blood.It’s not arterial.
She grabbed a handful of cloth and exerted pressure on the wound. A scruffy-looking man with the reek of fish hefted the man’s leg up while she bound a strip of cloth around it to keep constant pressure and control the bleeding.
Amaris faced her helpers, braiding her hair back tightly, readying herself for what was to come. “I know some of you might be scared.”Shefor sure was and would be lying to herself if she considered the knot in her stomach only indigestion. Instead of casting her fear aside, she embraced it. The surge of adrenaline wrapped itself around her heart, and she usedit to channel her words and movements. “We’re all they’ve got. We must move swiftly and quickly.”
She pointed to several of the men and women with baskets. “Keep the fires going and begin boiling water. Alan, gather as much alcohol as you can.” She’d need some form of an anesthetic to aid in the pain. She doubted she had enough cudweed. “Pricilla and Onika, start organizing the herbs and make baskets for everyone. Place a bottle of alcohol in each, bandage squares, linen, and several belts.”
They both nodded and began following Amaris’s instructions. The remainder started righting tables and took over attending to their first patient. Amaris closed her eyes to breathe. She’d never been a part of a mass casualty situation. They’d done table discussions at work to prepare for the insurmountable odds that would be stacked against them. But she’d never hung a tag over someone’s neck and left them for another paramedic to continue their care. Before the chaos had even begun, Amaris knew she never wanted to experience it again.
She watched as a makeshift triage formed. Ms. Borstad tended to the fire, and she sent someone to grab every bit of cloth they could find. Alan returned with more than enough bottles of liquor, but Amaris sent him again to procure belts, in case she needed to fashion tourniquets.
Esaias barged through the door carrying someone in his arms.
“Put him here.” Amaris gestured to the next free table space. The young soldier was unconscious but breathing. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Esaias began, panting as he leaned against the table. Blood dripped from his face and splashed a single dot on the table. His shirt was soaked with it.
“Esaias, where are you injured?” She scanned him head to toe, looking for the source of the bleeding.
He almost laughed. “It’s not mine.”
“Is—”
“He’s fine, but you shouldn’t worry about him. It seems you haveenough to deal with.” He gathered himself in one large breath and charged back out into the night.
Amaris returned her attention to the young soldier and took a breath to compose herself, repeating what every paramedic knew by heart.The smoother I move, the quicker I’ll be.
She attempted to rouse the soldier and rubbed her knuckles against his sternum, but he didn’t move. A large goose egg poked through the scraggly locks of his hair, but he had no other signs of trauma. His pupils were equal and reacted to the candlelight, and a strong pulse beat in his wrist.
“Peter,” Alan cried, racing over to their new patient. His hands shook as he took the soldier’s face between them, brushing back the sweaty strands of his hair.
“He’ll be alright,” Amaris whispered, landing a gentle hand against Alan’s arm. “He’s only knocked out.”
