Page 49 of Out for Blood
“Wrong answer.”
He freezes, baffled. “What do you mean?”
“You think I care what you were told to do?” She berates him, venom creeping into her voice. “You think that makes you less of a monster?”
She rises to her full height, pacing again, quicker now, adrenaline surging.
“I saw the room, I saw what you did to them.”
The doctor shakes his head frenziedly. “They were sedated; they didn’t feel anything.”
Cassidy halts so suddenly her boots squeal on the floor. She whirls toward them, her gaze razor-sharp.
“You’re still downplaying it.”
She moves back into his space, closer than before.
“Listen carefully,” she snarls, each word measured now, her control only barely restored, “The only thing keeping you breathing right now is how useful you are to me.”
Her eyes flick to the nurse.
“Names,” she demands. “Who runs this?”
The nurse is trembling, with tears seeping down her face. “I don’t know. Please.”
Cassidy exhales through her nose, staring at the ceiling, a quiet, almost disappointed sound.
Then she shakes her head, clicking her tongue like you would to a naughty child as she strolls over to the other side of the room.
“Interesting. What’s this?” She inspects, almost thoughtful, tracing her hand over the IV stand. Attached at the top is your typical IV bag filled with clear fluid, and on the other two full pouches of blood, all feeding into the machine mounted in the middle of the stand.
The doctor stutters, “It’s a rapid infuser machine,” then he rattles off, “They are used during organ transplants because they manage massive blood loss.”
Cassidy springs over to him, unsheathing her knife and pressing it under his chin, “And where do you hook these up on a patient?”
The nurse doesn’t let a second go as she scrambles to answer, “The femoral or subclavian vein.”
“Hmm, isn’t the subclavian vein right beneath your collarbone?” Cassidy wonders aloud.
Silence greets her.
She goes back to the IV stand and wheels it over.
She checks the machine, finds the double tubing, then selects needles from the tray and fits them into place.
“That was easy,” she mutters, visibly unimpressed, laying the tubes aside before grabbing the scissors and cutting their scrub shirts down the middle in one clean line, pushing them to the side.
Without warning, she snatches the first tube and pierces the needle through the doctor’s chest, directly hitting the vein.
He lets out a guttural cry.
The nurse loses control of her bladder, urine soaking her pants, and wetting the floor.
Cassidy tilts her head, “You didn’t enjoy the show?”
In an instant, she jabs the other needle into the nurse’s chest, connecting exactly where she intended.
“One more time,” she huffs, standing next to the machine, “Give me their names.”
