brother-in-law sighed and then opened his eyes, pain shadowing his gaze.
"How long have I been out?" He squinted, reaching up to touch the bandage.
"About an hour, maybe a little less." Simone sat beside him on the bed, holding out a glass of water and a pain pill. "I've got to get that bullet out."
"What about the hospital. Wouldn't I be better off there?"
She felt her face tighten with regret. What the hell had she gotten him into? "Too risky, I'm afraid. Since it's a gunshot, it'd have to be reported to the police."
"And I take it that's not a good thing." It was more of a statement than a question, and Simone suppressed a smile. Martin was still young enough to take life in stride. Age changed all that. Age and responsibility.
"No." She shook her head to emphasize her point, then began removing the strips of cotton.
"Shit." The whispered word was probably an understatement, and certainly there was worse to come, but Simone still felt a lurch in her stomach.
"I'm sorry. It's stuck where the blood has dried." She bit her lower lip and ripped off the last bit. "That's all of it."
"Maybe the bandage, but I've got a feeling there's a lot more pain to come." He wrinkled his nose, the gesture almost comical. Almost. "I'm assuming you've done this before?" She nodded, concentrating on the wound. It had stopped bleeding for the most part, the slight ooze the result of the bandage being removed. It was a clean entry, the edges slightly blackened from impact.
Gently, she lifted him up, verifying again that there was no exit wound.
"Still in there, huh?"
Simone recognized Martin's need to talk. Anything to distract himself from the reality at hand. Hell, she'd been there herself more times than she cared to count.
"Yeah, but it ought to be a clean removal. It's not lodged against the shoulder, and I'm guessing it passed through the muscle without causing too much damage."
"But I was knocked out?" Martin frowned.
"Probably hit your head on something when you fell." As gently as possible, she ran her fingers over the back of his skull, stopping when she hit a small hematoma. "Right here."
Martin felt the bump gingerly. "Leave it to me to do the bulk of the damage after the fact."
"Your falling probably saved your life. This is going to sting." She soaked some cotton in alcohol and washed off the wound.
"So what happened back there?" he asked, his voice tight as he fought the pain. "Who the hell was shooting at us?"
Simone finished cleaning the injury, considering how much to tell him. In all honesty, the less he knew, the better. "I'm not sure, Martin." It was the truth, at least as much as she was willing to share.
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"You mean beyond someone gunning for me?" It was a flip remark, but she needed time to think, to figure out the best course of action.
"Simone, you're scaring me." Martin waited, but Simone shook her head.
"Look, I'm sorry." She squeezed his hand. "I understand that this is frightening. And I'm going to do everything in my power to get you out of it. But until I do, the fewer questions you ask the better. All right?" She picked up the scalpel.
"Or what? You'll hurt me?" He'd meant to be funny, but she could see his fear.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just going to get this bullet out." She turned her attention to the entry wound. "I'm going to cut now. You ready?"
"Shouldn't I be biting on a bullet or swigging whiskey or something?"
Simone frowned, halting just short of cutting. "You've already had a Vicodin. It's better than whiskey. Do you want something else?"
"No. I was just kidding. I can take it. Just get it done." He closed his eyes, the muscles in his cheek tightening as he prepared for the pain.
She made a quick cross cut, and replaced scalpel with tweezers. Fortunately, the bullet hadn't gone far, the back edge in plain sight. In just a few seconds she had it out. "You okay?"
"Working on it." His voice shook, belying his words.
"You're doing great. All I
"How long have I been out?" He squinted, reaching up to touch the bandage.
"About an hour, maybe a little less." Simone sat beside him on the bed, holding out a glass of water and a pain pill. "I've got to get that bullet out."
"What about the hospital. Wouldn't I be better off there?"
She felt her face tighten with regret. What the hell had she gotten him into? "Too risky, I'm afraid. Since it's a gunshot, it'd have to be reported to the police."
"And I take it that's not a good thing." It was more of a statement than a question, and Simone suppressed a smile. Martin was still young enough to take life in stride. Age changed all that. Age and responsibility.
"No." She shook her head to emphasize her point, then began removing the strips of cotton.
"Shit." The whispered word was probably an understatement, and certainly there was worse to come, but Simone still felt a lurch in her stomach.
"I'm sorry. It's stuck where the blood has dried." She bit her lower lip and ripped off the last bit. "That's all of it."
"Maybe the bandage, but I've got a feeling there's a lot more pain to come." He wrinkled his nose, the gesture almost comical. Almost. "I'm assuming you've done this before?" She nodded, concentrating on the wound. It had stopped bleeding for the most part, the slight ooze the result of the bandage being removed. It was a clean entry, the edges slightly blackened from impact.
Gently, she lifted him up, verifying again that there was no exit wound.
"Still in there, huh?"
Simone recognized Martin's need to talk. Anything to distract himself from the reality at hand. Hell, she'd been there herself more times than she cared to count.
"Yeah, but it ought to be a clean removal. It's not lodged against the shoulder, and I'm guessing it passed through the muscle without causing too much damage."
"But I was knocked out?" Martin frowned.
"Probably hit your head on something when you fell." As gently as possible, she ran her fingers over the back of his skull, stopping when she hit a small hematoma. "Right here."
Martin felt the bump gingerly. "Leave it to me to do the bulk of the damage after the fact."
"Your falling probably saved your life. This is going to sting." She soaked some cotton in alcohol and washed off the wound.
"So what happened back there?" he asked, his voice tight as he fought the pain. "Who the hell was shooting at us?"
Simone finished cleaning the injury, considering how much to tell him. In all honesty, the less he knew, the better. "I'm not sure, Martin." It was the truth, at least as much as she was willing to share.
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"You mean beyond someone gunning for me?" It was a flip remark, but she needed time to think, to figure out the best course of action.
"Simone, you're scaring me." Martin waited, but Simone shook her head.
"Look, I'm sorry." She squeezed his hand. "I understand that this is frightening. And I'm going to do everything in my power to get you out of it. But until I do, the fewer questions you ask the better. All right?" She picked up the scalpel.
"Or what? You'll hurt me?" He'd meant to be funny, but she could see his fear.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just going to get this bullet out." She turned her attention to the entry wound. "I'm going to cut now. You ready?"
"Shouldn't I be biting on a bullet or swigging whiskey or something?"
Simone frowned, halting just short of cutting. "You've already had a Vicodin. It's better than whiskey. Do you want something else?"
"No. I was just kidding. I can take it. Just get it done." He closed his eyes, the muscles in his cheek tightening as he prepared for the pain.
She made a quick cross cut, and replaced scalpel with tweezers. Fortunately, the bullet hadn't gone far, the back edge in plain sight. In just a few seconds she had it out. "You okay?"
"Working on it." His voice shook, belying his words.
"You're doing great. All I
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