TO
WHERE IT BENT IN THE UNDERGROWTH
Chapter Seven
RESUSCITATION BAG
When
Joshua and Alec arrived, Max called them into the bedroom. By then, Logan was already covered with
cold sweat and was mumbling something about Max, which all three with their
enhanced hearing and memory will remember, but which and Logan might and
probably will forget.
Alec
immediately placed the resuscitation kit on a chair near the bed, took off
his leather jacket as he took over Max’s first aid. Looking at Max he asked, “How long has it been since he’s been
shot?”
“Logan
bleeding,” Joshua said as he pressed his hand replaced where Max’s gloved
ones on Logan’s wound, adding more pressure, but eliciting a grunt from
Logan. Max carefully lifted her
hand. A look of understanding passed
among the three. Logan was in serious
danger and they have to do all they can to save him.
Max
dazedly mumbled running on adrenaline,
“15-30 minutes max. Called you
right after.”
Alec
nodded, “Bullet went through?”
“No. It’s
still lodged in.” Max’s face is a mask of worry. It had only been a few months since Logan had fought the
virus. She didn’t know if his body
could take this much beating that it has been getting.
Alec
called out, “Max.” Max was spacing so
Alec repeated, his voice more urgent, “Max!” At which Max turned her head
towards Alec then towards a moaning Logan, a look of alarm on her face as she
thought of what might happen to Logan.
She could not even bear to think about it. “I need you with here with me, soldier.” Alec was looking
straight into Max’s eyes trying to convey that she needed to be strong if
they were to save Logan from this bitch.
Max’s face hardened, grim determination between her brows. Aled started to press down on Logan’s lower
ribcage as he motioned as he lifted Logan’s back, “Get his jacket, Joshua.”
With the
Jacket out of their way, Joshua asked, “Alec take bullet from Logan?”
“Yes big
man. I’ll be Logan’s doctor for
now.” Alec looked once again at Max
as he brought Logan’s body back onto the bed. Max on walked towards the resuscitation bag, but Alec’s alarmed
voice stopped her, “Max! We’ll need
those sterilized.” He didn’t want her touching anything they might have to
use for Logan. Indicating at the oral airway tubes, medications like lidocaine, epienphrine,
aminophylline, bretylium, adenosine, deibrillation pads, IV solutions of
Normal Saline and 5% Dextrose, gloves, flashlight, tourniquet inside the bag.
Looking at Joshua, “Big man, have Max help you sterilize them.”
“Uhuh. Blood bitch going down.” Joshua took the bag and stood beside Max,
silently asking her to move. Max
looked up and realized she was no longer looking at Logan, but is faced with
Joshua’s chest. She looked up, stared
at Joshua for a moment before leading the way to the kitchen.
< LATER
>
Max was
pacing back and forth in the living room.
When she and Joshua had sterilized the knife and tweezers she followed
Joshua into the room, but Alec asked her to stay outside. They didn’t need her help there. Besides, she can’t touch Logan. She had heard Logan’s growl as Alec must
have taken the bullet from Logan’s lower ribcage. From the sound of it, Logan was biting into something – a
rolled up cloth perhaps for his grunt to be muffled. That was when she got up from where she
was standing by the entrance door, looking out the glass door, to walk back
and forth the living room. She could
hear the sound of knife touching a metal bowl – one that she and Joshua also
sterilized. She wanted to get out. She could not stand to hear Logan in
pain. At the same time she couldn’t
leave. She had to know Logan would be
all right. She stopped and stood
against the door once more, looking out.
*And I wanted to protect him, * she smirked. * What kind of a soldier am I to be stupid enough to fall for
that informant crap?! * she asked herself angrily. “I’m not just a soldier! I’m a person.” she contradicted
herself. *Right. That’s why you crawl out of Terminal City
come sundown and deliver packages at night. Everybody loves you. *
She placed
her hand on the door window, her fingers reaching out. “If anything happens…”
her face crumbles for a second. It is
instantly replaced by a look of self-condemnation. *The last time you were
face to face with a gun, you got shot for not looking at it. Now that you looked, somebody got
shot.” A look of pure self-hatred
came over her face, “Call yourself Manticore.” Max’s eyes flicker for a
moment and waters, but instantly she composes herself. Then she remembered, “The exo -.” She still could not figure how and why
Logan wasn’t wearing the exo for the meet.
Max turned her head to look at the door to Logan’s bedroom.
Just then,
Logan’s room door opened as Alec stepped out looking at the floor. Lifting his head, he looked at Max and
motioned for her to follow him.
Joshua sat beside Logan’s bed, sitting as the transfusion is taking
place. They went down the basement to
what used to be a painting area and now Logan has converted into a miniature
library with some run down items they were able to salvage from the Fogle
Tower ruin. Alec sat on one of the
black leather chairs with a couple of stitched-up bullet holes. Max followed suit and sat on Logan’s black
leather couch, covered with a maroon wool cloth to match the walls.
Alec spoke
first, knowing Max is waiting for it.
“Joshua’s transfusing…” Max
just stared at her palms, fidgeting with her hands. She got up to grab a book. “I didn’t cut his shirt Max. I figured with the virus… you didn’t need
his skin exposed any more than it should… He lost a lot of blood.” Max flips through the book. “Got to take
out the bullet and stitched him up.
It was deep. Almost went through his liver.” Alec shook his head,
“He’s not Manticore, Max.”
Max
abruptly turned towards Alec, slamming the book shut – hard. “I DON’T need to be reminded,” she ground
out. Turning, she walked towards the nearby table and slammed the book on
it. * What if he gets an infection?
What if the stitch don’t hold up? * more importantly, she thought, *What if
he dies?* But she immediately cut off the thought. * Don’t even go there! Logan will NOT die * she resolved.
Alec
stared at Max in understanding. “I
don’t know his tolerance pain.”
Max walked
up to Alec, challenging him, her voice deadly. “He’s survived a Manticore take over, a transgenic carrying a
deadly virus directed to his DNA almost 3 times. He certainly will survive a gunshot wound.”
Alec had
lifted his hands as if to ward off Max as she ranted on. “Okay. Okay. Trying to be realistic here, Max -”
“Not that
I don’t appreciate your help Alec, but don’t piss me off.” Turning, she headed for Logan’s room,
“Let’s get this bitch over with.”
<UPSTAIRS>
Max looked
at Logan’s pale form on the bed through the open bedroom door. “How long is this thing gonna last?” She
asked looking at Logan’s still form on the bed. Joshua is still transfusing his blood into Logan.
Coming up
behind her, Alec replied, “We’re done in 15.
After that, you’re on your own.” Reminding Max that he and Joshua
cannot stay here. They are needed at
Terminal City. They cannot afford to
stay here the whole day and the sun will rise in a about an hour or
less. He looked pointedly at Max as
she turned to look at him over her shoulders. Alec placed a firm hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezed it,
“He’s tough. He’ll through.”
Later, Max
took off her jacket as she sat in Logan’s room. She could not touch him, even with her gloved hands and fully
clothed body, she could not risk anything happening now. She could not risk the virus. Alec and Joshua had left earlier and she
was alone with Logan. She had wanted
to run, get on her baby and feel the wind against her face. But she could not ask Alec to stay… and
definitely not Joshua. It wasn’t that
she didn’t trust them with Logan. She
can’t ask them to make this their problem.
And this is no hospital. No
nurse to look after Logan… no doctor.
Someone had to stay and that someone was her.
The
minutes were ticking and time was passing slowly. Logan became incoherent and burned with fever. He had started mumbling in his restless
slumber – calling on Max, telling her things he may not do so if he were
conscious. No. Not the typical ‘I love you.’ She already knew that. But things… little undecipherable things,
which she, with her genetically enhanced senses and military training noticed
and deposited in her wired up brain.
Things she knew and never knew Logan noticed… the little things…
little things that made her wish… *No! Hope is for losers.* “gotta face the
facts, Max,” she said to herself sarcastically, remembering the virus –
always the virus.
She
continued pressing cold towels on his forehead, his cheeks, his face to keep
his temperature down, careful not to touch him even though she was wearing
her gloves, her hair tied behind her back with a rubber band she saw lying on
one of the tables. She continued her
ministrations as Logan started to his convulsions through the fever. Feeling helpless that she could not touch
him and not wanting to expose him to the possibility of another virus attack
at this moment, she was torn between hoping that pressing the cloth on
Logan’s face would lower his temperature or putting the ice-cold cloth on his
chest, under his armpits, his arms.
Exposing his chest could mean more vulnerability to virus exposure,
but does she have any other choice?
“Oh please!” she pleaded to whatever power there is as she headed
outside.
Minutes later, she came back dressed in a pair of jeans
and a black long sleeved turtleneck shirt where she had put on 3 pairs of
latex gloves duck-taped, with a ski mask over her head just enough to hold
her hair intact in it, carrying a bucket full of ice. She went beside Logan’s
bed as she gently pulled his shirt up his chest. Supporting his head, she pulled the shirt off, careful not to
bend the part where his wound is.
Once done, she went take his arms and slid the long sleeves off of
them. She carefully replaced Logan’s
arms beside him. She pulled the
bucket and the chair she had sat on earlier closer. After putting ice in 2 separate cloth, she placed these two
inside Logan’s underarm and started pressing another ice-cold cloth on
Logan’s arms. She pleaded silently
that this works. She didn’t know what
else to do, as she continued wiping the cloth on Logan’s chest, forehead,
face, arms and even wetting his parched lips to work the fever down. Max worked continuously oblivious to the
rising sun, kids coming out of their respective houses, the people coming out
onto the street to start their day, dogs barking, and cars moving. As the
street showed more signs of life, Max continued to nurse down Logan’s fever
pleading for his convulsions to die down.
************
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