Page 191 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘Sats are falling,’ the medic beside him says. ‘Eighty-eight.’

Noah listens to Kade’s chest, first the left, then the right.

His expression hardens.

‘Right side’s deteriorating. The blood is filling the chest cavity and compressing the lung.’ He looks at the medic. ‘Drain it now. Wide-bore tube, suction ready. Keep the blood running.’

‘There’s no wound on that side.’

‘I know. We have to make one.’

‘What are you doing to him?’

‘Stay quiet or leave,’ Noah warns Lachlan. Cold antiseptic floods Kade’s side and Noah pins his arm above his head. ‘Kade, this is going to hurt.’

It almost makes him laugh.

Hurt?

Nothing could hurt compared to—

Kade turns inside out, rendered inhuman by the pain as his skin is cut open and an intrusion forces itself between his ribs. He can’t see, can only hear and feel and what he feels is death denied its rest, rabid and feral, eating him alive, alive, it won’t let him die, not yet anyway.

Something gives inside his chest.

A hot, wet rush spatters across his raised arm and strikes the floor hard enough to be heard in a wet crash that makes several people gasp.

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘Tube in,’ Noah orders. ‘Now.’

‘It’s pouring out of him!’

‘Let it. His body knows what it needs.’

Kade drags in a breath that feels like inhaling powdered glass.

‘Pressure?’

‘Eighty-two.’

‘Keep letting it drain, watch him closely. I’ll be right back.’

Kade opens his eyes.

The lights above are so bright they’re a viciously pale shade of blue.

‘I hate blue,’ he mutters, hears his own voice as if it’s coming up through water. ‘Want… a different colour for my… my room.’

‘Is his pressure dropping?’

‘Seventy-eight systolic.’

‘Kade, stay with us. Keep talking.’

‘I’ll choose the colour…’ The room is spinning.

His body is desperate to pass out again, for the world to go black.