Page 36 of Friar
“Find out who did this,” I ordered Forge, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.“Find them and keep them alive until I get back.Understand?”
Forge nodded once, already turning back toward the clubhouse where members were gathering, faces grim with purpose.“Go,” he said.“Take care of your family.”
I slammed the door of one of the club trucks and jumped behind the wheel, tires squealing as I peeled out of the lot.In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of the assembled club, a sea of leather cuts and hard faces.My brothers, mobilizing for war.
Someone had poisoned my woman, endangered my child.And when I found out who, there wouldn’t be enough left to bury.
* * *
I hit the clinic’s parking lot doing fifty, the truck skidding as I yanked the wheel hard, brakes screaming in protest.The small medical building stood quiet against the late afternoon sun, its windows reflecting orange fire that matched the rage burning in my chest.Cheri hadn’t made a sound during the drive -- not a whimper, not a cry -- and that silence terrified me more than her earlier pain had.I gathered her limp body from the back seat, her skin clammy against mine, and kicked the clinic door open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
“Help!”I roared into the sterile space.“She’s been poisoned!”
The waiting room emptied in seconds, mothers clutching children to their sides, elderly patients pressing themselves against walls as I barreled through with Cheri in my arms.A nurse appeared, took one look at us, and hit an intercom button.“Dr.Cooper to the front, emergency.Dr.Cooper, stat.”
“What happened?”she demanded, leading me down a hallway that seemed to stretch forever.
“Someone put something in her food.”My voice cracked.“She’s pregnant.Sixteen weeks.”
The nurse’s face hardened as she pushed open a door to an exam room.“Put her here.”
I laid Cheri on the narrow bed, my hands lingering on her shoulders, unwilling to break contact.Her skin had taken on a bluish tint around her lips, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths.Vomit stained the front of her tank top, and her body occasionally seized with violent tremors.
Dr.Cooper burst into the room, already pulling on gloves.“Friar?What’s --” He stopped short, taking in the scene.“Poisoning?”
“Yes,” I choked out.“At the club barbecue.She said the food tasted metallic.”
He moved with practiced efficiency, attaching monitors, checking Cheri’s vitals.“How long ago?”
“Twenty minutes.Maybe less.”
His fingers pressed against Cheri’s neck, counting her pulse.“Heart rate elevated.Blood pressure dropping.”He peeled back an eyelid, shining a penlight.“Pupils responsive but sluggish.”He turned to the nurse.“IV access, saline wide open.Draw toxicology panel, CBC, metabolic.And get the ultrasound in here now.”
The nurse moved with controlled urgency, inserting an IV line into Cheri’s arm while Dr.Cooper cut away her tank top.He placed a stethoscope against her rounded belly, his face a mask of concentration as he listened for the baby’s heartbeat.
I held my breath, my fingers digging into my palms hard enough to break skin.The seconds stretched into what felt like hours before Dr.Cooper nodded once.“Fetal heartbeat present.Faster than I’d like, but there.”
Relief washed through me, so intense my knees nearly buckled.The baby was alive.But Cheri -- her face was so pale, her breathing so shallow.
“What can I do?”I asked, hating the helplessness in my voice.
“Step back and let us work,” Dr.Cooper said, not unkindly.“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I recounted everything while they worked -- the barbecue, the food, Cheri’s first complaints, how quickly she’d deteriorated.Dr.Cooper listened while inserting another IV line, this one pumping a milky substance into Cheri’s veins.
“Activated charcoal?”I asked, wondering if it was similar to how the vet treated animals who ingested poison.Did they inject that shit or make them swallow it?I had no idea how humans were treated for poisoning.
“Too late for that.This is lipid emulsion.Some toxins bind to fat.This might help.”He turned to the nurse.“Call Dr.Kestral.Tell him we have a poisoning case, pregnant patient, sixteen weeks.I need him here.”
“Already did,” she replied.“He’s on his way.Actually, he was en route when he answered the call.”
Dr.Cooper nodded grimly.“Good.Let’s get a catheter in and start monitoring output.We need to know how her kidneys are handling this.”
I paced the small room, a caged animal watching strangers handle its mate.Every instinct screamed at me to do something, to fix this, to hurt whoever had caused it.But here, in this sterile room with its beeping monitors and antiseptic smell, I was useless.Powerless.
Cheri moaned softly, her eyes fluttering open briefly before rolling back.Her hand moved to her stomach, a protective gesture that cut through me like a knife.Even semiconscious, her first thought was for the baby.
“The lab work is back,” the nurse said, handing Dr.Cooper a tablet.
