Mouse Trapped

by Manda Mellett

“Right, I’m not removing the bullet, could do more damage taking the fucker out. It’s nicked the femoral artery, not much I can do but make sure fibres are removed then I’m going to try to slow the bleeding. Looks like a fairly small calibre, that’s one thing at least.”

  I watch as he starts with the forceps, pulling away the strands of her jeans which had been caught up with the bullet. He then uses a sterile fluid to wash out the wound. A dusting of what he says is an antibiotic powder, then he’s pulling the wound together and holding gauze over the top. Gauze that gets soaked pretty quickly. Devil’s there with a bag, and he drops it in it, replacing it with fresh gauze. After he’s gone through three soaked pads, I’m starting to lose hope that she’s going to make it.

  I catch his eye. He’s looking at me, assessing. After a moment he asks, “Do you know her blood type?”

  I barely know her name. There’s so much I don’t know about her. I stroke back the hair from her face, now oh so pale. “No fuckin’ idea. Her pulse is getting weaker.”

  “What blood group are you?”

  “O neg. Why?”

  Carter’s face lights up. “You are what’s known as a universal donor. You’re not averse to needles, are you?”

  Hate the fucking things. That’s why I’ve got no tattoos. “Again, why?”

  “Blood transfusion.”

  Give my blood to her? I’d do a fuck more than that to save her. “Where do you want me?”

  He removes a length of tube and a couple of catheters from that magic bag. Takes a moment to find a vein on her, then I look away as he first disinfects then sticks a needle into my arm. But he’s professional about it, and it’s not long before blood starts draining from my body into hers.

  It’s probably psychological, but I soon feel faint.

  “Shit, Brother, I’m O positive. I can’t fuckin’ help. Would if I could.” Weakly I nod at Blade.

  “I can’t either,” says Marvel.

  “Nor me.” Fuck me, Viper and Marvel sound disappointed.

  “I’m not,” says Dollar.

  Word goes around the plane. Another man, Kleinman, says that he’s O negative too.

  At the news Carter gives a wide grin. “Against the bloody odds, but good news. Thanks, Kleinman.”

  I notice Carter’s watching both me and Mariana carefully, and the tube lying between us. My blood leaving my body and hopefully giving a chance of life to hers.

  “Her blood loss is slowing down.” He still sounds grim. She’s lost an awful lot of blood. Too much? I’ve no idea what eight pints looks like. Drop a pint of milk and it looks like a whole cow’s exploded.

  “Okay.” Carter’s leaning over me. “That’s it for you now. Be careful standing, Mouse. You might feel dizzy. Stay sitting down.” I want to protest; she can have all I’ve fuckin’ got. I can’t let her die. But he gives me no chance, having already removed the catheter and slapping a band-aid over where it was. “Kleinman?”

  Drummer helps me stand, as Kleinman takes my place. I do feel dizzy, but feel Carter should have let me give more.

  “Let me do it again,” I suggest.

  “No, Brother,” Drummer says firmly. “You need to look after yourself as well. Not going to be any good to anyone if you collapse.”

  I feel so useless. Marvel appears with a bar of chocolate; I stuff it down without tasting it. The plane drones on, time seems to move slowly.

  Devil appears from the front of the plane. “I’ve arranged for an ambulance to meet us.”

  My shoulders slump. “Devil, she’s a deported immigrant. They find out…”

  “Mouse. Do you trust me?”

  After thinking for a moment, I decide he’s never appeared untrustworthy. Fighting by our sides on a couple of occasions. He’d got us into Colombia and back out. “I trust you.”

  “She’ll go in under a fake name. I’m British, yeah, we’ve got our own problems with immigration, who hasn’t? But I’m not going to be dobbing her in.” I take it he means reporting her. “Carter’s doing what he can. She needs surgery to get the artery patched or grafted, and a doctor needs to check how much damage the bullet might have done. Apart from giving her more transfusions.”

  “I’m staying with her.”

  “We all will,” Drummer interrupts. “My brother’s ol’ lady’s coming home with him, Devil. Not having any different outcome.”

  “I’ll sort it.” Devil’s face is full of promise as he moves out of the way. “I told you. Trust me.”

  “Hold this, Mouse.” Kleinman’s now moved away, his face paler than before he started. Carter’s passing me a bag. “It’s saline,” he explains. “Out of all other options now.”

  The plane flies on, the engine constantly droning. Carter uses his second, and last bag of the fluids I hope will keep her alive until we land.

  By the time we touch down, the most I can say for Mariana is that she’s still breathing. She hasn’t come around. The ambulance is waiting, the medics come on board and have her hooked up to another drip before she’s moved. Devil goes in the ambulance with her, I had to agree he was best to get her checked in.

  The six of us get our bikes out of the hangar and are right behind it.

  It’s a small hospital, thank God; one I haven’t been to before. They’re expecting her and rush her straight in to surgery as Devil deals with the bureaucracy. Drummer gets me a coffee. For the first time in my life I wish I wasn’t a teetotaller, longing for the oblivion to wipe this worry from my mind.

  “I can’t lose her,” I suddenly announce to no one in particular.

  “You won’t,” Drummer replies from beside me. “She’s a fighter. She’s strong.”

  “You saw the conditions she was kept in…”

  “But not for too long, Mouse. Hold on to the positives.”

  Standing, I start to pace. “What’s taking so fuckin’ long?”

  “It’s only been half an hour, Mouse.”

  I glare at Viper, then cease walking, stopping and leaning my forehead against the wall. The smell of the disinfectant reminds me of the month we waited for Heart to come around, and the time we thought we were going to lose Slick and Beef. We’re men, we’re bikers. We signed up for this shit. An untimely end is likely for any one of us. Mariana’s only twenty, she’s got her whole life ahead of her.

  “Should I tell Drew?”

  Drummer closes his eyes and thinks about it. “Wait until we know more, Mouse. Don’t want to worry the kid. He can do nothing to help. When we know what the prognosis is, you can prepare yourself to tell him.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to get to know her,” I complain out loud.

  “You’ll get your chance,” Blade growls as he comes over. “Think positively.”

  Don’t borrow trouble. Was it really only this morning I was saying that to Mariana? It seems so long ago. Why hadn’t I said more to her? Why hadn’t I told her how I felt? Because my intensity would have scared her.

  Devil comes in and joins us. When I glance at him he raises his chin. I take it everything’s sorted. My nightmare would be for her to come around only to be confronted with ICE.

  Two hours pass, and a doctor comes in. “Family of Jane Smith?” he asks.

  Devil gives that lopsided grin. “Tse Williamson’s her fiancé.” He points me out.

  I walk toward him, my heart in my mouth. “The bullet wasn’t easy to extract, and there is some nerve damage. She’s lost a lot of blood, but the transfusions and fluids she was given gave her a chance.”

  I can barely make his words out. The one thing I want to know, he hasn’t answered. “Is she going to make a full recovery?”

  “She’ll need to stay in for a few days. We’re pumping her full of antibiotics, and giving her more blood. I think it’s likely she’ll need to go to a rehab centre for the physical therapy she’s going to need.”

  My brain says no. As soon as she can, she’s coming home. Not letting her out of my sight again, and anywhere she goes will run the risk
of exposing her. Peg can help her with physical therapy, can’t he? But I don’t argue with him now. “Can I see her?”

  “Give us a moment to move her to a room and then, yes.” With that the doctor leaves.

  Drummer puts his arm around me, and gives me a brief hug. “She’s going to be fine.” I notice him glaring at Devil.

  “Jane Smith?” Blade bursts out laughing, and his mirth causes the tension to dissipate. “Couldn’t you think of something more original, Devil?”

  Devil shrugs as he stands. “Worked, didn’t it?” He walks to the door, then turns. “I’ll be in touch. Any problems? Drummer, Mouse, you know where to find me.” Then he disappears into the night.

  My brothers stay until I’m called in to sit with Mariana.

  I enter the room, seeing her lying so still on the bed, and my anguish of the last few hours comes back to me. I take her hand, bend my head over it, and let tears flow. A fucking man and I’m crying; I must still be suffering from my own blood loss. Tears of relief, of recrimination, wondering why we relaxed our guard and weren’t prepared for an ambush. She should never have been shot.

  A nurse comes in to check her. She must notice my red-rimmed eyes. “She’s going to be fine,” she tells me comfortingly.

  The monitor beeps reassuringly, telling me Mariana’s still alive. With my hand grasping hers, my head lying on my other arm, I close my eyes.

  “Tse?”

  A tentative voice wakes me.

  “Where am I? Oh, God. I’m in the hospital…”

  “Don’t worry, Jane,” I tell her quickly. When her eyes widen in confusion, I quickly add, “Jane Smith. That’s your name here. Devil worked everything out. You’re back in the US, in Arizona.”

  “Did the drugs break?” she whispers.

  I realise she doesn’t remember what happened. “Nah, sweetheart. Someone shot you just before you got on the plane home. Reckon it was something to do with your father.”

  “Oh my God. Shot? Is anyone else hurt?” Trust her to think of other people when she’s been flirting with death.

  Stroking my hand over her forehead, “Just you seriously. You were shot in the upper thigh, nicked your femoral artery.”

  Her eyes open in confusion, but the next question she asks is again not about herself. “Are you alright?”

  “Don’t worry about me, darlin’. Just concentrate on you. Doctor wants to keep you in for a few days, and then you’re coming home.” I don’t say we’ve got a battle on our hands to keep her out of rehab. It’s too dangerous for her to go.

  “Shot.” The word seems to resonate with her. She takes away the hand I’ve been holding all night, and gingerly raises the sheet.

  “In your upper thigh,” I tell her again, in case it didn’t register the first time. “You’ve got some nerve damage, but it will heal in time.” She’s got enough to deal with without talk of maybe being confined to a wheelchair. Guess we’re going to have to get Sophie’s out of storage again. “You’ll be sore for a while and have a nice little scar, but it shouldn’t cause long-term problems.” I hope.

  She yawns, her eyes are drooping. The anaesthetic is probably still in her system, and she’ll take time to make up for the huge loss of blood. “Go back to sleep, darlin’. I’ll be here.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles. The expression on her face, and her tight grasp of my hand, tell me she’s lying.

  I stay. Where else would I be? She sleeps, I feast my eyes on the woman I had doubts I’d see back in the US again. I can’t take my eyes off her as every emotion goes through me. The fear I’d felt when she was deported, that we wouldn’t be able to find her. My elation when we did, and the anxiety I’d tried to hold from her that her body wouldn’t rid itself of those fucking drugs without killing her. My joy when we saw the plane, knowing home was within reach. My terror when I saw her fall to the ground having been shot, my utter panic when I saw how much blood she’d lost.

  “Mr Williamson?”

  A voice speaks quietly. Looking up, I see the doctor who’s been treating her. He’s beckoning me, I stand, take a last glance at Mariana, then step to the door. If he wants me to leave her he’ll have a fight on his hands.

  “Mr Deville filled me in on some of what happened to Ms Smith. The first aid you gave her certainly saved her life.”

  It takes a second to realise Mr Deville is the man known to me as Devil. “It wasn’t me, it was the medic who was with us.”

  He brushes my comment away. “I understand you gave blood to her. Just wanted to say, it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a blood test, check your red cell count. In that situation, it’s hard to tell how much you gave.”

  “I’m okay,” I tell him with a slight shudder. Not going to have another needle poked in me again. “I’m fit and healthy, my body will heal itself.”

  His eyes must confirm what I’m saying, and after a swift perusal, he nods. “Take care of yourself. If you start feeling weak or dizzy…”

  “I’ll seek help.”

  Another rise and dip of his chin. “I’m not stupid, I just heal people. Don’t get involved in politics or what’s right or wrong. Don’t want to know what happened, but that girl there, she didn’t deserve to be shot. I’m not going to make things worse for her.”

  Reading between the lines, he knows something is wrong, but isn’t going to report it.

  “Thanks.” It’s a lame expression of my gratitude, but sometimes too many words are worse. I can’t confirm he’s right to be suspicious, and denying it could lead me to saying too much.

  “Ms Smith’s going to take a while to recover her strength and the use of her leg.”

  “Prepared for that.”

  Another glance at me, then at his charge lying sleeping in the bed, then he’s gone.

  Mariana sleeps the rest of the night. Eventually my tired body shuts down, and I doze myself.

  Early the next morning, I have a visitor. Leaving Mariana’s door ajar, I go out into the corridor.

  “Blade.” I raise my chin.

  “Thought you’d be lost without this.” He grins broadly as he hands my laptop over.

  It’s like getting back my lost child. I take it, thanking him profusely. “How’s she doing?”

  “Been sleeping a lot.”

  “Not unexpected. Not after what she’s been through. Rest is what she needs. And plenty of pain meds. Don’t let her try to be brave, Brother.” His brows knit together. “Anything you need, Mouse. Anything, okay? I like her.”

  Today I don’t feel like hitting him, but welcome his approval. She’s going to be living with me on the compound and will need the support of my brothers. Which reminds me, I need to have a conversation with Peg.

  “How’s Drew doing?” I’ve been so tied up with worry about Mariana, I haven’t given much thought to the boy, but then I knew he was safe and being well looked after.

  “Upset Mariana’s hurt. Wants to see her. But Drummer’s persuaded him to be patient. Wouldn’t do him any good to see her until she’s awake.”

  Chapter 36

  Mariana

  A nurse fussing around wakes me up. I open my eyes to see I’m still attached to a monitor, but the drip has been removed. Tse is sitting by my side, studying something on his laptop.

  The nurse finishes what she was doing, and quietly leaves.

  “Tse?”

  His face when he smiles is gorgeous. Putting aside his laptop, he pulls his chair closer, taking hold of my hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a train?”

  “Doc says everything looks good. They were worried about infection, but your temperature’s normal.”

  “When can I get out? I want to see Drew…”

  “Drew’s coming in later. Blade’s bringing him along. You’ve been in and out of it for a couple of days.” He studies me for a moment. “You look more with it now.”

  Two days? My mind is blurry, vague memories of Tse leaning over and pushing the
pain med pump. I try a glare. “Think that might have been you pumping me full of morphine.”

  He grimaces. “Don’t like to see you in pain. How is it now?”

  I reach my hand down, but withdraw it when I touch the bandages. “Sore, but bearable.”

  “You hurt? You take something for it, okay?”

  “I had some weird dreams.” I had. I could swear there’d been a horse standing beside me. I remember reaching out to stroke its nose, but only hit air.

  “That’s the morphine, darlin’. It can do that.”

  I decide there and then I won’t be using it, except as a last resort.

  “Mariana, darlin’, I know you’re probably still a bit woozy, but I need to know some things. You know where your driver’s licence and social security card are?”

  Why does he want to know that? Why’s it the first thing he’s asking me? He’s right, my head does still feel fuzzy. Rather than dwelling on the why, and probably receiving a convoluted response, it’s easier just to answer his question. “My licence was in my purse, I suppose the cops took it. The social security card is in a box in the trailer.”

  “Hmm.”

  He seems disappointed with my answer. “Do you know your social security number?” He doesn’t sound hopeful.

  “I do.” I was proud to get it, to be able to work, to pay my taxes.

  His eyes light up. “Then it seems fairly simple to get a replacement licence. There’s a form to fill in online.” He starts tapping. “What’s your date of birth?”

  I tell him and give him the other information he needs. Including my address at the trailer park. I can’t wait to be back there with Drew.

  The pain in my leg is worsening. Tse’s brow furrows as he shows me the pain pump but I’ve been sleeping so long I don’t want to use it. For now, I’ll try to put up with it. Gingerly I go to pull myself up, Tse’s there immediately, raising the head of the bed.

  I don’t understand why he’s completing online forms for me. “Tse, I don’t even have a car. Why would I need a driver’s licence? I can replace it eventually.” As long as I’m allowed to stay in the US.

  His face softens as he tells me, “So we can get married as soon as possible.”