Alissa
“Alissa!”
I bolted to my feet, snatching up Nate’s medical bag. I’d been leaning over Tony, checking his injuries, when the shout had come down the corridor. Tony was sleeping now, but his vitals were good. Unless he somehow took a turn for the worst, I believed he would be fine. Racing to the door to the workout room with the medical bag, I yanked it open and rushed out into the hallway.
The dregs were back. With Nate. I gasped at the sight of Nate. He was passed out, his skin blue. Noah, Logan, Luke, and Ryan were all carrying him toward Nate’s apartment.
“Multiple wounds from flying shrapnel,” Logan informed me as I rushed up behind them. “A nasty one on back of his head. His left calf has been mutilated. His right hand has a chunk of metal in it. There’s others. I’d say he’s critical.” His voice shook with worry. They rushed Nate into his bedroom and gently laid him on his bed.
My heart pinched. This was bad. Nate’s skin was extremely pale. Almost ghostlike. Too much blood loss.
I raced after them.
“I did what I could on the way here,” Logan said. “Cleaned the wounds and spread coagulant over them. But I didn’t dare pull any of the metal out. He’ll need exploratory surgery to remove all the shrapnel. Do you think you can do that? He’s lost so much blood. He needs a transfusion before you operate.”
Before you operate.
Oh God. I wasn’t a surgeon. But I knew human anatomy.
Don’t lose it, Alissa. Keep calm. You can do this.
“What blood type is he?”
“A-positive,” Logan murmured. “We all are. I’ll be a donor.”
“So will I,” said Noah.
“We’ll all donate blood if he needs it,” Ryan murmured.
Luke nodded, looking grim. “Can you do a blood transfusion?”
I swallowed hard. “I’ve never done one before, but it can’t be that difficult. Do you have blood on hand in a cooler somewhere?”
Logan cleared his throat. “No. Unlike normal humans, dregs can share blood directly. It has something to do with the experiments we went through. Sharing blood with another dreg helps boost the injured dreg’s immune system and promotes faster healing. That’s why we all have the same blood type.”
Seriously? I’d never heard of such a thing. “Can someone who’s not a dreg donate blood to a dreg the same way?”
Logan nodded. “Yes. Anyone can donate blood to a dreg, though a non-dreg’s blood won’t have the immune system booster or promote faster healing. As long as it’s the same blood type, we can endure a direct transfer without any harmful effects.”
Wow. That was…amazing.
“Nate’s got all the necessary stuff in his bag.” Luke motioned to the medical bag I still carried. “We’ve done them plenty of times out in the field. You just need to hook the collection bag up to the donor, then a line from the donor bag to the recipient. There’s a small pump attached to the collection bag that helps speed up the process and get the blood into the injured dreg more quickly.”
I nodded, my mind still spinning with these fascinating dreg abilities. I would happily donate blood to Nate, too, if he needed more. I was also A-positive.
I searched through Nate’s medical bag and removed what looked like a fresh blood collection bag and a thin tube that looked like it could be used for a blood transfusion. “Are these the right items?”
Logan nodded. “Yes. Want me to go first?”
I removed a fresh IV needle and attached it to the tube. I had to hurry. If Nate was near death, then he needed blood pronto.
My hands shook as I cleaned a spot on Nate’s arm with an alcohol wipe, found a vein, then hooked him up to an IV line. Logan stepped forward while I found a vein in his arm, then attached him to the IV line going into the collection bag. I glanced around at the other dregs who were all watching closely.
“Am I doing this right?” I asked nervously.
“Seem to be,” Luke said, his gaze intense. “Go ahead.”
I unclamped the line. Logan’s blood filled the IV line and slowly entered the collection bag.
“Now squeeze the pump,” Luke instructed. “But do it gently so you don’t blow Nate’s vein out.”
I did as Luke directed, gently pumping Logan’s blood into Nate as it filled the collection bag.
Everyone remained silent for several minutes, watching as Logan’s blood flowed into Nate.
After about ten minutes, Nate’s color started to return to normal.
“It’s working,” I whispered, my heart in my throat. “How do I know when it’s enough?”
“Keep going,” Logan said. “When I start to get dizzy, then it’s time to stop and use someone else.”
We all waited another five minutes.
“That’s probably enough for now,” Logan murmured. “I’m getting a little dizzy.”
I clamped the line and removed the needle from Logan’s arm, pressing a cotton ball over the wound. Noah helped him into a chair in the corner so he wouldn’t pass out.
Then I checked Nate’s vitals. His blood pressure was still low, but no longer critical. Thankfully, his pacemaker was still doing its job. I glanced at the dregs.
“Should we give him more blood?”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “I think he still needs a little more.” He lifted his arm and I hooked him up to the IV line with a fresh needle. After Luke gave Nate some blood, I clamped the line again and decided Nate was stable enough to assess his injuries.
I soon discovered Nate had five shrapnel wounds. His left calf muscle had been shredded by a piece of metal that was imbedded near his fibula. His right hand had a smaller piece of metal stuck in the center of his palm. His right forearm had an angular piece of shrapnel wedged in between his radius and ulna. A huge chunk of scalp hung loosely away from the left side of his head, cutting partially into his ear. And another glob of flesh had been ripped away from the top of his right bicep, a jagged piece of metal sticking out. Five ugly wounds. No wonder he’d lost so much blood. If he survived, he would definitely be sore for a while.
The dregs all assisted me while I carefully cleaned Nate’s wounds, gently removed all traces of shrapnel, flushed the injuries with antiseptic, then stitched all his wounds back together. If it weren’t for his dreg brothers, Nate probably would have died. Tears swam in my eyes. My throat clogged with emotion. I wouldn’t have been able to save him on my own. I couldn’t have done it without them. If they hadn’t given him blood, he wouldn’t have lived long enough for me to remove the shrapnel. The first tear trickled down my cheek, followed by a second. I quickly wiped them away, not wanting the dregs to see.
But they saw. Of course they did.
Ryan put an arm around my shoulders and gently squeezed. “Don’t cry, doll. You did just fine. He’ll be okay. He’s a dreg, remember?”
I swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. He was right. Nate was a dreg. He would be fine. I had to believe that.
We got Nate situated on the bed, then I hooked him up to an antibiotic drip through the IV to help prevent infection. Now all we could do was wait and hope he recovered.
I cleaned everything up and set the medical bag on the edge of the bed for easy reach.
“Tony’s lying on the floor in the workout room,” I informed them. “I wasn’t able to get him to his room to treat him.”
A sudden stillness filled the room. The dregs all exchanged glances. “Is he…alive?” Noah asked.
“Yes, he’s alive. He was sleeping when I left him.”
“Shit. One of us should have gone with you to help get him in the maze,” Luke muttered. “What were we thinking?”
“How did you get him there?” Logan asked curiously.
“The escape hatch.”
“No shit?” Ryan cocked a brow. “Damn. That’s ingenious.”
“Clever girl,” Luke praised. He glanced at the others. “Let’s get Tony to his bed where he’ll be more comfortable.”
They all headed for the door.
“Thanks, you guys,” I called softly. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”
They all shrugged. Noah turned back to me and winked. “We couldn’t have done that without you.”
Moments later, I was alone with Nate. I checked his vitals once again. His blood pressure was still a little low, but his body temperate was now normal, and his heart rate was steady. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t die. We might have saved him for now, but he could always take a turn for the worst.
Don’t think like that. Be positive. Nate is a dreg. He’ll be fine.
I wanted to believe that, so desperately. But what if he didn’t make it? What if after everything we’d done to try to save him, he still died?
Overwhelmed with emotion, I collapsed on the edge of the bed and let the tears come, unable to hold them back any longer. I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. Would he be able to pull through? He was my hero. My rescuer. What if he died? What if I lost the only man I’d ever loved?
It was so hard to be positive when his body was so still and lifeless. I wanted him to open his beautiful green eyes and look at me. I wanted him to pull me into his strong arms and snuggle me close. I wanted him to speak to me so I could hear his sexy southern drawl. I wanted to hear him say he loved me.
But he was still unconscious.
And it was possible he might never wake.