Out of Nowhere (The Immortal Vagabond Healer Book 1) Read Free Page A

replied. ‘His vitals are fine.’
    ‘You guys comfortable with him?’
    ‘Sure. He just needs a ride to the ER for some stitches and a tetanus update. You guys can clear.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I replied. As I turned to go, I spotted something. A smear of fresh blood on a doorjamb off the alley, a crimson handprint on the stairway railing.
    ‘Hang on. I think we may have a second victim.’ I nodded toward the blood. Nique followed my gesture.
    ‘You guys take this patient to the hospital,’ she said. ‘We’ll go see if we can find another guy who needs to buy a safety razor.’
    ‘Hey, Trigger Happy,’ I called to Carlos. ‘We got a blood trail here.’
    He moved quickly to the door, hand on his pistol. Nique and I stepped aside. Always let the guy with the gun and the vest go first.
    The door opened into the hallway of an apartment building. Searching each apartment would take forever.
    Fortunately, we could just follow the trail of bloody handprints up the stairs to a door.
    Carlos and Nelly stood to either side, Carlos hammered on the door. ‘Police! Open up.’
    ‘No Ingles,’ came the reply.
    Carlos rolled his eyes. ‘Policia! Abre la puerta!’
    The door opened a crack. A young woman stood in the gap, a baby in her arms. ‘Nobody here—’ she began.
    Carlos pushed past her. Nelly followed, gently but firmly steering a toddler out of the way. He scanned the room, then nodded to us and we walked in.
    The blood trail led to the bathroom. Carlos strode to the door, ignoring a torrent of indignant Spanish from the woman whose home we invaded.
    ‘Policia,’ he said, knocking on the bathroom door with his nightstick.
    The door swung open to reveal a wiry Hispanic man, pale under his dark skin, stripped to the waist, his shirt wadded up and pressed against his abdomen, trying in vain to staunch the seeping blood.
    Nique swung the bag off her shoulder and I unfolded the stair chair. ‘Have a seat here, sir. We’ll take a look at that belly.’
    ‘I’m all set. I don’t need no ambulance. I don’t need to talk to nobody.’
    ‘You’re bleeding pretty bad—’ I began.
    Carlos stopped me with a raised hand. ‘Look,’ he said to the victim. ‘I know you’re dealing smack. You know I know. And we both know that you and that scared shit white dude who was buying got cut by somebody who don’t want you dealing on this corner. You don’t need to tell me any lies, because we already know what happened, and that other guy is gonna sing like a bird just to keep his name out of the paper. So, you can sit on the chair and play nice with the paramedics, or I can ask them to step outside for a minute because you don’t have all your injuries yet.’
    The man wisely decided to comply. Nique grabbed a pulse while I took the shirt away from his abdomen.
    Three inches to the left of center, a clean slit two inches long oozed blood. The man’s flat stomach was beginning to feel firm around the cut, filling with blood. It was the wrong side for his liver, but maybe his spleen. That could bleed like crazy. I tore open a big gauze dressing and pressed it into place. I put some pressure on it, sending some energy through to slow the bleeding. I wrapped some gauze bandage around his waist to hold the pressure and cinched the strap of the chair over the dressing for good measure.
    ‘Strong radial pulse,’ said Nique. ‘Rate’s a little fast, but not too bad. One hundred, one ten. How’s the wound?’
    ‘Not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door,’ I replied. ‘But ‘tis enough. ‘Twill serve.’
    Nique looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
    ‘Shakespeare. It’s bleeding bad. Maybe his spleen. Don’t think it’s his bowel. Doesn’t smell bad.’
    She tied a tourniquet. ‘I’m gonna line him up here, so he doesn’t go out while we’re carrying him down the stairs. His veins aren’t flat yet.’
    ‘Good plan.’
    ‘Hey, I don’t want no needle, man,’ he protested.
    ‘Dude! You have a sleeve