Heart of Ice pt 1

Heart of Ice.

I hope you enjoy! It will be continued, of course.

.............

“I am going to kill you. I’m going stab you, and watch your blood drip down your lifeless limbs. And I’m going to laugh, because you don’t deserve to live.”

Someone laughed, a sound from deep in the throat, but it came out tinkling, like a bell tied to a porch rafter in the wind. Water gushed from a pump, and a hand splashed the frigid liquid against a shattered mirror, a single drop of blood from a pricked finger spreading in the water. At first it was a single red spot, growing and spreading until the reflective surface was covered entirely in a gleaming crimson liquid. Another chilling laugh rippled through the air as its owner blew out a lantern.

................

“Hey, need some help in here!”

A nurse in a white smock called through the glass doors of the foyer, which shone white with frost in the dull winter sunlight.

“Coming, Sheryl. What’s the situation?”

“Stab wounds, abdominal, adolescent female.”

“Gotcha. Be right there, just gotta suit up!”

“Don’t, needya now. NOW!”

The nurse, Sheryl, was pushing a gurney with one hand; with the other she inserted a large needle into the patient’s arm.

“NOW!” she shouted again, her tone hinting her distaste at her colleague’s dawdling. In her profession, a handful of seconds could be the difference between life and death.

The colleague came racing, holding a rubber cylinder that attached to a very large suction cup; a ventilator mask. The man pressed the mouth piece over the wounded patient’s lips and nose, and began to compress the cylinder, forcing enormous puffs of air down the girl’s throat.

Her face was the color of new chalk; as if the blood had drained from her veins. As the air traveled into her body, her complexion began to change, gaining a slight pink hue about her cheeks.

Meanwhile, Sheryl had succeeded in placing the needle, and promptly deposited a vial of blood into its chamber. A push of the stopper sent the vital fluid gushing out of sight into the patient’s arm.

Her fingers fumbling, the nurse snatched out the first vial and stowed a second into the syringe. She did not stop until she’d exhausted the supply of blood vials in her pocket; a dozen.

Another person garbed in white joined them, a woman with slate gray hair who clutched a clipboard.

She stood, scribbling furiously with a stub of pencil as Sheryl and the male nurse fluttered about the limp form on the gurney.

“…three, four, five….wounds to the abdomen, ribs and stomach. And a…a carving…of a heart.”

The man’s voice rose I pitch, making the end of the statement more of a question. A heart-shaped laceration on the patient’s chest oozed with clotting blood.

“Critical concern, blood loss. Wound debridement immediately…”

“Erique, for the sake of this earth, get the ethanol! Rags!”

Erique darted to a cabinet where he grabbed a bottle of clear alcohol, and a mountain of gauze.

He poured the cleanser directly onto the wounds, the laid the gauze atop the puddle of alcohol and blood, and pressed his hands firmly against the open flesh.

Sheryl now worked the ventilator mask, pumping with her hands to keep oxygen flowing into the girl’s blood.

She flinched as an unexpected noise broke through her adrenaline-induced trance.

A sputtering sound, like a suppressed cough, made the grey-haired woman’s eyes dart towards the patient’s head. Sheryl removed the mask, watching as the patient coughed, clear liquid issuing from her mouth. Eyelids fluttered open, and the girl groaned, twitching her lips like a fish wrested from the water it called home.

“Respiratory is stable, I believe,” Sheryl stated, sighing sharply.

“Good, S. J.” The grey haired woman wrote a few lines on the papers she held.

“Now what, Martra?”

“Don’t you know, S. J.? You still act like a nervous jay as much as you did on your first day of internship.” Martra Schnyder M.D. possessed wit every bit as sharp as her angled cheekbones and pointed nose.

“Tranophine.”

Sheryl pulled another vial from her pockets, this one of a brownish syrup. She took another needle, deftly punching it into the injured girl’s chest, and placed the clear resin vial of painkiller into its chamber. A slow push of the stopper sent drug spilling into the coronary artery, sure to dull the thundering report of pain neurons to the casualty’s brain.

The girl on the gurney settled, her breathing audible between the now sanguine whispers of the emergency staff.

“Alright. I think she’s stable,” declared Enrique, dropping his blood-soaked gloves into the biological materials receptacle; donning a new pair.

“You think you’re finished?” M.D. Martra Schynyder furrowed abrow above the gleaming amber eyes.

“Uh, oh. Stitches?” He looked down at his slush-covered boots.

“No. I do the stitches, if you recall,” voiced Sheryl, almost mockingly. She relished the chance to irk a self-important male colleague.

“what then?”

“You re-check the patient’s vitals then transfer her to the appropriate ward.”

“Oh. Thankyou for reminding me, Da Schnyder.” He used the honorary term of his local dialect; the south of the city had its own distinct customs.

Without intention of embarrassing himself further, he quickly completed his check, nonetheless, prodding clumsily, looking for the spot where he could best feel the girl’s pulse.

Reaching for his stethoscope, Enriq quickly finnished the exam and ashamedly fled the room. Sheryl celebrated her victory with a silent smirk.

...........

Please feel free to cut it to pieces and review 'til the pages bleed red ink... of just give me an impression of what you read. Please?

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

~Voxina