Page 52 of Resuscitation
But Blake couldn’t focus on anything beyond the immediate threat. “Sara!”
Blake lunged toward Mercer, whose eyes were almost popping out of his skull in a look of complete shock as he staggered toward Sara, his hand clutching at the trocar sticking out from his ear, blood spraying down to his shoulder.
Blake grabbed the handle of the device, an eight-inch steel instrument used for invasive surgery, and wrenched it out. Mercer howled, the blood-curdling scream of an animal.
With the sharp metal device clutched in his hand, Blake stabbed it hard, right into Mercer’s chest, angling to slide over his ribs and directly into his heart.
Mercer staggered back. His wide eyes dropped to the alien tool protruding out of his chest. A shaking hand reached up for it and weakly grasped the handle. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but one side of his face seemed to freeze.
“Probably not a good idea,” Blake warned.
Then, in a whisper, Mercer managed to speak. “The stars are…cursed.”
He slumped down onto his knees, his mouth falling open as he keeled over onto his hands and knees, dribbling blood, droplets splattering onto the floor. Then he collapsed, all his strength gone, and lay like a curled-up fetus, spasming, before the movement stopped, his eyes staring at Blake, the man who’d killed him.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Friday,February 13th, 11:11 P.M.
The old clinicwing had transformed into a hive of swarming medical personnel, first responders, and State Police officers.
The hostages, wrapped in emergency foil blankets, sipped hot drinks while being checked over by Sara and fussing Potsdam medics while waiting their turn to be interviewed by the State Police. Sara had refused to talk to the police until she finished treating all her patients and saw her staff safe, so Blake had gone first. It had taken the better part of an hour to walk the staties through everything.
Now, the aftermath of the adrenaline crash had left him too tired to do more than sit and watch Sara work her magic.
Alyssa left on the first ambulance. Sara had insisted, Thomas told Blake, explaining that she’d need a full trauma eval and a chest tube.
Sara wanted Thomas to go in the same ambulance, but he’d absconded—his word—only to be returned by police officers. Twice. Until Sara finally relented, deciding if he was stable enough to wander around a crime scene, he was stable enough to wait. On the caveat that he stay close to a medical provider and let them monitor him.
The smirk on Thomas’s face was wider than a Cheshire cat’s as he caught Blake up with everything that had happened while Blake was with the troopers and getting the wound to his arm treated. Luckily the bullet had only grazed him.
“Most excitement I had in decades,” Thomas told Blake. “No way in hell was I gonna leave early and miss anything.”
They sat on a pair of chairs in the hallway where Blake had parked the hostages, who were now leaving two by two. Blake had never seen Sara like this, triaging multiple patients while simultaneously providing comfort. The Potsdam medics followed after her, making notes, cleaning wounds, applying dressings, guiding patients to the chaplain trained in trauma counseling who Sara had called in.
“They made a lethal mistake,” Thomas said as he nibbled on M&M’s—plain, not peanut, the nuts messed with his partials—from the bag Blake had busted open the vending machine to get him. At least the cops had brought in portable heaters and turned the lights on, so they weren’t sitting in the dark. “The crooks, I mean.”
He waited for Blake to take the bait. Blake resisted, but only for a few moments. How could anyone resist Thomas? Besides, the old man was a hero, deserved a bit of indulgence.
“What was their lethal mistake?” Blake asked.
“They mistook me for a frail, helpless, blind man.”
“Don’t forget old.”
“Okay. Frail, helpless, old blind man. But,” he wiggled a finger in admonishment, “that was all part of my master plan. Fooled them, didn’t I?”
“Walking into my line of fire and almost getting yourself shot was part of the plan?” The words came out a bit sharper than Blake wanted. He was still angry at Thomas for putting himself in danger.
The old man clasped Blake’s arm. “No, that’s part of being blind. The biggest part of my plan was you, Blake. I had absolute faith that you were there, somewhere, ready to save the day. And you did.”
Blake inhaled sharply. He’d almost gotten them all killed. Almost gotten Sara killed. “I’m no hero. I’m just glad it worked out, and we’re all alive.”
“And that, my boy, is my point. We are all alive. Including the most amazing woman you’ll ever be lucky enough to meet in this lifetime. Just like my Rose. But you need to let her know how you feel—luck doesn’t come around twice.”
Sara’s murmurs reached them from down the hall. She was sharing her feelings, inviting Evan and his mom to do the same, trying to get them started on the path to healing. It was a profoundly personal thing to witness. Blake felt a strange combination of awe, anxiety, and…anger.
He wasn’t even remotely worthy of her, much less ready to give her a glimpse of his true self, a wounded warrior that had to fight each day just to open his eyes and keep on breathing.
