“Danny wasn’t able to keep Whiskey’s training up, so she would go back over to Cerberus. It was a ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ situation.” In exchange for keeping her training on point, the teams would use Whiskey whenever they needed her. I thought you might make some sort of similar arrangement.”
Gabriel got tangled in those words. He stared down at Whiskey, feeling suddenly possessive, and forgot to answer.
“So you seem fine after today at the lawyer’s and your office emergency,” Cathy’s voice became artificially sweet. “I’ll let you go. I know you’re busy saving lives. Love you.” She hung up before he could respond.
He felt like a shithead.
Deservedly so.
Chapter Six
Sommer
Tonight had been a madhouse, and Sommer enjoyed the idea of blaming Abbie for conjuring the power of a full moon.
There were days and nights when the emergencies just kept coming, when there was no time to stop, hour after hour of concentrated physical and mental labor.
And invariably, on those nights, the moon was not just round but glowing brightly in the sky, without an obstructing veil of clouds.
Possibly that was an accurate observation, possibly it was happenstance. Sommer didn’t much care. It was part of the hospital lore.
Sommer had left some shifts so tired that when she got to her car, she was unable to drive herself home. She’d learned to keep a survival pack in her back seat: a pillow and sleeping bag, a bottle of water and an MRE, a sleep mask, and gun-range noise-canceling headphones that didn’t exactly cut the ambulance sirens, but at least the scream didn’t jar her awake. She’d park on the far side of the parking lot, lay the back seat down so she could lie flat, and pass out for as long as she needed to. She credited her years of primitive camping for her ability to sleep in uncomfortable positions.
After particularly busy shifts, there were nights when Sommer’s brain wouldn’t shut off the adrenaline spigot, and she’d have to head home to play the video games that science said would soothe her mind. Blocks in rows—strategizing, stacking, clearing. Somehow it worked.
Tonight, Sommer thought the adrenaline-spigot scenario was possible, if not probable. It all depended on when Shoshana showed up.
“I need assistance!” a voice called from behind the curtain. It was professionalism masking panic.
Sommer pushed her cart against the wall and pulled the privacy curtain to the side to find an unconscious patient on the floor in what looked like a puddle of dried blood.
The nurse, crouching by his side, was checking his pulse as she turned her face toward Sommer.
“What’s happening?” Sommer moved swiftly into the room and flipped the patient’s hospital gown back down to cover his family jewels.
“He came in with rebound pain in his lower right abdomen, possible appendicitis.”
Sommer squatted beside the patient, putting her stethoscope to his chest. “He smells like he ran a hefty bar tab. It seems early for that.”
“The doctor asked for a toxicology panel along with his other labs. Once he sees the results, he’ll decide if he wants imaging or not.”
Sommer moved her stethoscope to his abdomen and listened for gurgling in his bowels and found none. Maybe it was appendicitis. “But you didn’t give him anything for his pain?”
“I didn’t. I was coming back to check on him and found him getting out of bed. He got tangled in his own limbs and hit the floor still conscious. He’s not responding now.”
The man was lying flat on his back with his arms and legs all in a nice, neat configuration. “He hit his head?”
“No. His head landed on his arm. I rolled him onto his back to check his vitals and be ready to call a code.”
“We have two codes running already. I’m not sure who would be left to show up.” Sommer’s attention moved to the dried blood on the floor. “Is this his blood?”
“Two patients ago had to have an arterial line put in, and the guy spurted. Environmental services are slammed. This was the only bed open. We had to use it.”
Sommer stood and went back to the hall to scan, and not seeing ready help, she went to the phone to call for the rapid response team that would get the patient safely in bed.
The hospital staff bustled up and down the halls, arms full of supplies, jogging behind carts stacked high. Everyone had that look on their face, as if they were aggressively handling a task.
There would be no help to be had for a while.
