Page 25 of Bound By Fire
Her tone shifts immediately. “On it. Do you need anything else, Doc?”
“Call Helen at the front desk and tell her to keep the lobby clear when they bring the patient in.”
“Got it. I’ll organize coffee and a pizza delivery. You haven’t eaten since lunch. Bacon and pineapple?”
I groan. “You’re a godsend. Leave it in the fridge in the staff room, but be sure to put my name on it. I’ll get to it when I can.”
“Done. Go save a life, Dr. Keller.”
The hospital appears at the end of the access road, low and wide and lit up against the dusk. It was designed by someone who understood what we do here. Every doorway is oversized; the main surgical bay is built to the scale of a commercial aircraft hangar. Most of our patients arrive in their human form. There is a three-story building to the side that houses them.
The “hangar” is for the critical ones who are stuck in dragon form.
I pull into my reserved bay and slow-jog through the side entrance, already shedding my jacket.
“Dr. Keller.” Carla materializes in the corridor with a coffee in one hand and my white coat in the other.
“Status?”
“They’re one minute out. Hannah has the induction room prepped. Lena is scrubbing. Dr. Patel is wrapping up in OR 2. Imaging is standing by.”
“You need to notify the family.”
“Our patient, Onyx’s, next of kin is a brother who has been notified, and he’s on his way, but he won’t arrive for at least an hour. Onyx’s rider is being transported to the human facility in critical condition.”
I down half the cup of coffee and hand what’s left back. “Thanks. Can you stay and meet the brother? Get him to the waiting area, and the night shift can take over from there.” I lift my brows.
“Of course.”
“What would I do without you?”
“You’d suffer.” She smiles.
I smile back. “I’d better get to it.”
I push through the double doors into the surgical wing. The lighting here is a bright, clinical white. The air smells like disinfectant and that particular ozone tang that always hangs around when we’ve had to power up the heavy monitoring equipment.
Brody is at the scrub sink with his arms lathered to the elbow. He’s the best surgical tech I’ve ever worked with, which is saying something after eight years at the exotic animal facility on the Mainland before coming here nearly four years ago.
“He’s here, Dr. Keller,” Brody says without turning around. “The flatbed just cleared the gate.”
I nod and start to scrub my hands. Nails first, with water as hot as I can stand it, going through the motions step by step.
Lena joins me at the adjacent sink. “Hannah wants to know whether you want isoflurane or sevoflurane on the table?” she asks.
I throw out some orders, then I rinse, glove, and gown up. Brody is at my elbow with my headlamp as I walk.
“Incoming,” Hannah calls from the theater. “They’re rolling him in.”
The sound of the transport reaches me before I see it. There is the soft, deep drag of the hydraulic flatbed being guided into the cargo bay, and the murmur of the crew. Under all of that is the hollow rasp that comes from a dragon’s lungs when he’s in serious trouble.
Crap! It’s going to be a long night.
I hope I can save him.
He fills the bay. Black scales striped with darker bands that run from the plates above his eyes down the length of his spine, tail curled tight against his body. Both wings are clearly broken. His eyes are closed. His flanks move, but it’s too fast and shallow for my liking.
“Vitals?” I ask, crossing to the head of the table where Hannah is already threading a catheter through a vein the diameter of my thumb.
