“It was him or me, Doc, and I always vote for me,” came Mercer’s nonchalant reply. “Now get back to work on Connor. Otherwise, more of your people will be visiting the morgue.”
At that moment, Nick and Mr. Mohawk rushed into view on the other side of the door, Mohawk with his gun raised, ready for a shootout.
The thug stopped at Luca’s body where it blocked the entrance to the trauma bay, glanced from it to Mercer. “Guess I missed all the fun.” Then he forced Nick, arms stacked high with trauma supplies, to step over Luca. “Got the shit she asked for.”
Kelly ran to help Nick with the bundles of surgical equipment while Sara returned to Connor. Supposedly to monitor him, but really because she needed a moment where she could safely turn her back to Mercer and his men, regain her focus. She had a patient, and he had to be her priority—at least now that her other patients and staff had hopefully safely escaped.
Please, Wayne. Please have gotten them out of here.
Mercer’s radio went off. She glanced back, saw him fumble at his ear as if he’d expected it to be fed to him more covertly. Sara gave a silent cheer. Finally, something had gone wrong for the bad guys. And she could listen in on his plans.
“Tyson here,” came over the radio. “I got the patients, a clerk, an x-ray lady, and the dispatch guy corralled. But from the staff roster, there’s a guard somewhere on the loose?—”
“Don’t worry about him,” Mercer said into the radio. He regarded his men. “Brick, grab the dispatcher, see if we can avoid more unwanted guests. Maybe he can spin some story, send them elsewhere.”
“On it.” Mohawk stepped back over Luca’s body and vanished down the hallway.
Mercer frowned at the mess Luca was making. “Harper, move that body out of the way, then help Tyson secure the patients. Make sure you get them all—families as well.”
The man gave a British-style salute and bent down, hauling Luca’s body to the same corner where Connor’s bloody clothing and gear had been piled. He rummaged around in the clothes, retrieved some ammunition, then left as well.
“Hey, one thing, Doc. How come he said it was a joke, the Code Black thing?” Mercer asked.
Sara froze with her back to him, dared not turn to face him. “Probably because since the main hospital closed, the cops don’t come here anymore,” she said as casually as she could muster. “Remember, we’re not an ER.”
“Right,” came his slow reply. Then, “But you are an ER doctor? Someone who knows that advanced trauma shit you were talking about?” Translation: someone who could save his brother.
“I am. And part of that advanced shit is we’ll be inserting a catheter into your brother’s bladder.” She held up the Foley for him to imagine exactly why male patients especially did not enjoy the procedure. “Not sure you’ll want to watch either.”
Was it terrible that she was glad to see him turn pale as he realized what they were about to do?
He moved to the doorway, stopped to aim his rifle at each of them in turn, but Sara and her team ignored him. Best way to deal with bullies, she’d learned.
“I’ll be right outside the door, so don’t try anything funny.”
Sara reassessed Connor. His vitals were slightly improved after a fluid bolus, but still not great. “How you doing?” she asked him.
With glassy eyes, his head turned to view the spot where Luca’s corpse had been. “I’m sorry.”
She met his eyes. “Wasn’t you that shot him. We’re going to give you the best care possible, I want you to know that.”
He nodded, reached a hand to grasp hers. “I know. Thanks.”
“There’s going to be a lot to stuff happening, and some of it will be painful. We don’t have any pain meds here, I’m sorry. I could give you some sedation, but since we also don’t have an operating room or scans, I need you awake to tell me if things get worse.”
He grimaced. “Andrew wouldn’t trust you if I’m asleep.”
Yeah, she’d kinda figured that as well. Which meant she also couldn’t intubate him. There were paralytics and seizure meds on the crash cart that she could use to knock him out, put a breathing tube down his throat if he went into respiratory failure, but doing that would probably get her and her staff, maybe the other patients, all shot.
Apparently, Connor agreed. Given that he knew his brother and these men, she wasn’t about to argue.
“It’s okay, Connor. We’ll just need to go old school tonight. You ever seeM*A*S*H?”
That got a small smile from him. “Hawkeye Pierce. That’s you.”
“Nah, he’s funnier. But we both kick ass and will do anything for our patients.” She glanced to the foot of the bed where Kelly was set up to insert the Foley. “You saw the catheter I showed your brother?”
“Looked like a garden hose. You really gonna ram that up my?—”
