An Arrogant Black Belt Threatens a Rookie Nurse in a Rural ER — Unaware She Was a Navy SEAL Officer
Chapter 5
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Reese knew that black: black meant venous bleed that had been going long enough for the blood to lose its oxygen. The wound was high, too high for the tourniquet to fully control: the round had gone in just below the inguinal crease and exited out the back of the upper thigh, and somewhere in the middle of that path, it had clipped the common femoral artery at the point where it splits off from the iliac.A junctional hemorrhage. Tourniquets don't seat there; you have to pack against bone—you have to know the bone is there.Vega's eyes drifted open. They focused on her. He smiled like a man seeing the moon come up after three days in the dark."Boss," he whispered.Reese climbed into the helicopter. "Eddie.""Knew it was going to be you. Told them... told them the only nurse around here is...""Stop talking. Save it for the bar later.""Yes, ma'am." His head fell back.Reese turned to the two crewmen on the deck, and her voice came out of a place she had buried in 2021—not loud, just absolute: "I need him in the trauma bay in 90 seconds. You two carry the head; Hannigan, you carry the feet. Keep the leg elevated above the heart, and do not flex the hip past 45 degrees or the packing shifts. Move."They moved.Kessler was still standing in the open stairwell door when she came past him pushing the stretcher. He started to say something. She looked at him. Just looked. Whatever he had been about to say died in his throat.They went down the stairs faster than was safe, down the corridor, through the swinging doors of the ER.Vera, the trauma nurse, took one look at the stretcher, the four men in flight suits, and the soaked rookie who was suddenly issuing orders, and her training kicked in over her confusion. "Trauma Two is open," Vera said. "Where do you want him?""Trauma Two. Now. I need two units of O-negative on the rapid infuser, a junctional tourniquet from the back of the green cart, combat gauze, hemostatic clamps, and a 14-blade. And get me a Foley catheter.""A Foley?""Trust me."Vera trusted her. Reese had never given Vera a reason to trust her, but Vera trusted her anyway; that happened sometimes, people could feel it.The transfer to the trauma table happened in one smooth motion. Reese was already cutting away the field dressing with trauma shears before the stretcher was fully out from under Vega. The wound packing came up wet. The smell hit: iron, ammonia, and that sour-sweet note of human meat that doesn't belong outside human skin. Vega's blood pressure was 82 over 40 and dropping.Kessler had finally caught up. He pushed into the bay. "Donovan, step back. I'm the attending physician. I'll—""You'll lose him in three minutes if you do what you did with the stab wound." Reese did not look at him; her hands were already inside the wound, two fingers finding the pulse of the artery, locating the proximal end of the bleed. "Get out of my light.""Excuse me?"