The Savage Horde

Chapter 15

"I won't let you die." He told her that even though she couldn't hear him.

"Doctor Rourke—"

"I'm opening her again. Maybe I counted wrong and there was another fragment that didn't show up—"

"But she's bleeding to death."

"I'm opening her."

"Later maybe—you could—"

"If I don't—you want me to run down the list of what could happen and what would happen first—"

"Let me—you look exhausted."

"No—no," and Rourke felt himself shaking his head. "No." He looked at his hands, then touched them to her face . . .

"We're going to have a couple members of the crew down for the count—I've had men volunteer to give a second pint of blood—I'm taking half pints only."

"Give me their names when this is through," Rourke told Milton. "If she makes it she'll want to thank them." It wasn't the suture line—it was gastric bleeding and as Rourke completed re-opening her he could see nothing. "I need suction here—fast—there's so much fluid I can't—"

"Coming up." It was Kelly and Rourke nodded, starting to apply the suction. At the rate at which she was bleeding—he didn't finish the thought . . .

"Here—" and Rourke glanced at the clock—it had

been more than eighty minutes. "You—you close her," and Rourke stepped back, blood half way up his forearms, staining his gown, his gloved hands splotched with it—her blood. He stripped away the gloves.

"Here, Doctor—" It was Kelly.

"No—no—you stick with Doctor Milton—I'm all right." Rourke couldn't leave the room—he was too tired, his head aching too badly. On the white clothed tray was the bullet. He picked it up—there had been eight rounds, this one buried in the abdominal wall—a place he'd searched and missed before. Upon removing the bullet, he controlled the bleeding with another continuous locked chromic suture. "Tired," he murmured.

He started to strip away the gown and when it was half off, dropped the bullet in the pocket of his pants—it would remind him of two things, always—mortality and fallability. And a third thing—to persevere.