Dr. Shield's Arc

Chapter 8 of 13

Shield pulled the ambulance behind the veterinarian office and killed the engine. The building looked worse than she remembered—broken windows covered with cardboard, door hanging crooked on bent hinges, walls tagged with faded graffiti. She climbed out and checked the street. Empty. No bikes, no guards, no one who cared what happened in this part of town. She opened the ambulance doors and looked at her patient. Still breathing. Still unconscious. Still her problem until someone else decided otherwise. She dragged him inside and set up in the old garage attached to the building's east side. The space had concrete floors and a workbench she cleared in ten minutes. She hung her headlamp from a ceiling hook and positioned the patient on the bench. The wound looked clean when she peeled back the dressing. No infection. No fresh bleeding. She'd kept him alive through three relocations and a failed supply deal. Now she needed to finish what she started—get him stable enough to walk out on his own power. The surgery took four hours. She reopened the incision and removed two bone fragments she'd missed during the first operation at Echo Warehouse. Her hands moved the way her mentor taught her—steady cuts, clean angles, no wasted motion. When she sutured him closed again, the stitches held tight. She stepped back and checked his vitals. Pulse steady. Breathing even. He'd wake in a few hours, and this time he'd stay awake. The military truck arrived at dawn, metal plating catching the early light as it rolled to a stop outside the garage. Shield recognized Sherrie's insignia on the door. Two guards climbed out and waited while Shield brought the patient to the entrance. He stood on crutches she'd built from scrap metal pipes, his leg wrapped in fresh bandages. The map stayed hidden in Shield's jacket where it belonged. She watched the guards load him into the truck bed and strap him down. He looked at her once before they closed the doors—no words, just a nod. She'd proven she could keep someone breathing through impossible conditions and finish surgery that should have killed him twice. The truck pulled away, and Shield turned back to the garage. The workbench still had blood on it. She had cleaning to do.