Scorched

by Britt Ringel

  “Doctor Reynolds’ assistant,” Kat answered while bending over a man lying on the ground. His moans were barely audible.

  “Thank God,” the resident doctor said with sincerity. “It’s been just me out here.” He reached inside a bag draped over his shoulder and pulled out a handful of flimsy cards. He stuffed them into Kat’s hands and then pulled a stylus from his coat pocket. “Assess them and mark them,” he ordered while offering her the writing implement. “We’re overloaded inside so make sure Immediates are really Immediate.” He turned to Reynolds and said, “I’ll get you a bag, Maggie.” The man began to trot away but Kat heard him say into his mic, “John, send a runner with a triage kit out to the quad for Doctor Reynolds and see if you can scrounge up a first responder’s kit for her assistant.”

  Kat watched the man jog back to the patients nearest the hospital doors. She felt Reynolds pull her to the ground next to the moaning man. “Kat, write what I say,” the doctor instructed, pointing at the cards in her hands.

  Kat examined the top card. It was a long rectangle of shiny plastic. The back had a thin covering that could be pulled away to expose an adhesive strip. On the card’s face was a myriad of checklists and boxes. At the top was a serial number and the acronym “RPM” with a choice of two checkboxes following each letter. A sketch of a human body came next, with “Blunt Trauma, Burn, C-Spine, Cardiac, Crushing, Fracture, Laceration and Penetrating Injury” as options to check. The final entry was “Other.” Further below was a section for vital signs and a space to write any medications administered.

  The bottom third of the card contained large, color-coded stickers, each bearing the card’s serial number. The topmost sticker was black and said “MORGUE.” Next came a red “IMMEDIATE.” A yellow sticker declaring “DELAYED” and a green sticker stating “MINOR” completed the card.

  Reynolds was listening to the man’s breathing through her stethoscope and holding the man’s wrist. “At the top, next to R, check yes. P, check the minus two seconds box. Skip M.” She ripped open the patient’s shirt and found severe bruising covering his chest. “Make an X next to Blunt Trauma… make checkmarks next to C-Spine and Fracture. Scribble over the chest on the body outline.” She quickly inspected the man’s extremities. “Scribble over the lower right arm. Vitals are pulse ninety-five, respiration twenty. Pull off the yellow sticker marked DELAYED.” She reached out for the sticker and pressed it to the man’s forehead. “Peel the back off and hand me the rest of the card. Shove the peelings in a pocket, Kat. I can use them at the clinic later.” Reynolds stuck the card to the man’s chest and looked around the quad. A hospital attendant was racing toward them.

  The man skidded to a stop and handed Reynolds a bag similar to the one Kat had seen over the other doctor’s shoulder. He then tossed a smaller bag to Kat. She took a moment to look inside and found an assortment of applicators and bandages.

  “Here!” Reynolds beckoned from ten meters away, kneeling at another patient.

  Kat raced to her side as the triage process began again. By the end of the procedure, the unconscious woman on a stretcher had a bright red sticker on her forehead.

  Reynolds pointed at the hospital entrance just meters away. “Go inside and get two litter bearers to bring her in now!” she commanded.

  Kat was off like a bolt of lightning. At the door, she was stopped by a security officer. “You can’t come in here,” he told her. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “I need to see your visa.”

  Kat fished out her visa and handed it to him. “I’m working for Doctor Reynolds. She sent me in to get two litter bearers.” Kat pointed back toward the old woman kneeling over a different patient.

  The officer seemed unimpressed. He held Kat’s visa between a thumb and index finger and squeezed while looking at the metallic strip. His eyes flittered from the stick to Kat’s face before returning it to her. He raised a handheld device. “Give me your wrist.”

  “She’s CINless, dammit!” Reynolds screamed from over her patient. She pointed savagely at the woman with the red sticker. “That woman is going to die while you play cops and robbers!”

  “Present your wrist for your corporate identification number,” the guard insisted while flaunting the device.

  Kat’s stomach flipped at the implications. If I was a cop, I’ll be chipped, she thought with dread. Her heart skipped a beat. But I’ll learn my identity! She offered her wrist to the officer while surreptitiously scanning for a scar. She didn’t see one.

  The man waved the device over her and it failed to respond. “CINless. Go in,” he said gruffly.

  The depth of disappointment washing over Kat surprised her. She moved inside the hectic reception room thinking glumly, Not a cop. Maybe I really am just a nobody. She spied the man who had brought her the first aid kit typing furiously behind a long counter. Kat brought a hand up, placed fingers into her mouth and let loose a piercing, shrill whistle. “You,” she said as she pointed. “Two stretcher bearers outside for an Immediate.”

  The man reacted with a nod and grabbed a second attendant from behind the counter as Kat returned to the courtyard.

  The afternoon passed in a bloody blur as Kat rapidly settled into her role as Reynolds’ assistant. The first wave of casualties had obviously contained the victims of the initial explosion. Injuries ranged from “Minor” concussions to gruesome “Morgue” fatalities. Next came the burn victims, terrible, excruciating traumas that caused their recipients to scream in agony. Kat clung to her mentor’s advice and disconnected herself from the situation. Dispassionate, clinical eyes analyzed burns that had seared flesh, blackened bone and stank with the putrid smell of scorched meat.

  Kat lost count of the number of “Immediates” and “Delayeds” but she remembered each “Morgue” with crystal clarity despite her strongest desires. The flow of patients gradually dwindled from a flood to a stream. Eventually, the stream became a trickle.

  Chapter 10

  The early evening sun was barely more than two hand-widths above the horizon. The large VTOL flatbed vehicle was returning from another run to the mine, roaring as it slowed to begin its descent. Kat knew there would be more injured on its bed and quickly trotted to a clear area in the quad to help guide the pilot to the ground.

  The vectored thrust tore at her, scrambling the locks of her dark hair as she motioned the driver downward. She had lost her hat to such a downburst much earlier in the afternoon. After the heavy construction vehicle finally landed, its turbines skipped idle and shut down completely. Kat could see the pilot through the windshield pull off his headset and slump over the controls.

  Doctor Thomas, the other medic that had worked triage with Reynolds, was already at the bed of the vehicle, lowering the tailgate. “Just two walkie-talkies, Maggie,” he cried out. “I can help them.”

  Kat looked to Doctor Reynolds, who was sitting with the last two “Delayeds” in the quad. When the doctor acknowledged the man with a wave, Kat’s eyes returned to the pilot. He was still slumped forward, arms folded over the controls in his cockpit. Concern got the best of her and she walked to the side of the VTOL vehicle. The Porter Mining logo decorated its door. She pulled herself up onto the running board and rapped lightly on the side window with a knuckle. “You okay?”

  The man flinched. He looked up and straight ahead before turning his head toward Kat. Deep, green eyes highlighted a heavily tanned face under a messy shock of brown hair. He looked down briefly to press a button and the window lowered. His emerald eyes washed over her but steadied when they reached Kat’s own. “Are you with Porter?” he asked curiously.

  Kat felt herself blush under his gaze and her heart quicken. “Uh…,” she mumbled before her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh! No, I don’t work for Porter Mining. I’m a doctor’s assistant.”

  The man offered a lopsided smile that took years off his sun-weathered face. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve realized that. You guided me down a few times this afternoon.” He looked shyly
away. “You’re just, um, dressed a lot more like a miner than a doctor.” His head jerked back to her. “I didn’t mean it like that’s a bad thing! You look like an angel of mercy...”

  The pilot abruptly cut himself off as he caught sight of three men exiting the hospital. His eyes narrowed and the man’s voice became cruel. “Excuse me. I need to get out.” He pawed at a control and the gull-winged door cracked open.

  Kat hopped down. The pilot was right behind her. He practically ran toward the hospital doors and stopped just centimeters from a man flanked by two larger men. The sudden transformation from bashful gentleman to enraged antagonist shocked Kat.

  “You son of a bitch, Daniel!” she heard the pilot scream. “I told you that mule was on its last leg and you still had them operating it in a robbed out area!” He raised a pointed finger but a meaty hand from one of the lumbering hulks stopped him short. The giant grabbed the pilot by the shoulder and smashed a fist into his face, ending the man’s tirade as he stumbled back two steps and landed on the seat of his pants.

  The figure in the middle barked loudly at the stricken man. “They had a choice, Sadler. Every one of them knew all they had to do was say ‘No.’”

  Sadler pinched his newly split lip but the intensity of his words carried past his hand. “Sure, they say ‘No’ and they’re back in Shantytown hunting rats.”

  “It’s a tough job market,” Daniel admitted indifferently before walking around the bleeding man on the ground. One of the hulks held open an extravagant aircar’s door and Daniel disappeared into the depths of the luxury vehicle while reporting, “Just eight dead, Mister Porter, plus the ones that got crushed when the spur collapsed.”

  Sadler watched the aircar lift off before standing. He brushed the dust from his bottom while still pinching his lip. Finally, he removed his hand from his mouth and stared angrily at his fingers.

  Doctor Thomas was helping the last Delayed patient shamble into the hospital. As he passed by Sadler, he looked over his shoulder and asked, “Kat, can you use your kit to see to our prizefighter here?”

  Kat approached Sadler while trying not to stare. For a pilot, his clothes were very dirty. Thick, sturdy overalls covered his fit frame and were soiled with black dust and grime. The shirt underneath, formerly light grey, had long since been stained an irreversible charcoal. He cut a rugged image softened by unruly, brown hair that partially concealed his ears and framed profound, green eyes which may have been playful on any other day. Realizing she was indeed staring, Kat diverted her gaze to her responder’s bag and fished through it for another pair of thin, blue gloves and a square of cotton.

  Despite his height, she had something close to parity with him. She smiled awkwardly under his regard and simply said, “This will hurt.”

  A flicker of a smile played over Sadler’s mouth. “I see why Thomas keeps you outside with that bedside manner.” His grin stretched his lower lip, reopening the thin cut.

  Kat growled as the wound bled insistently between her fingers. Focusing her concentration, she pinched his lip with the cotton patch while pulling an applicator of coagulant from her bag. “I’m kind of new,” she confessed. She released her pinch and sprayed the cut. The light mist stemmed the blood flow. “And I’m not Doctor Thomas’ assistant.” She found herself inspecting his lips. Unlike his clothes or the black smudges on his face, they were soft and inviting. She shook her head and tucked the applicator back into her bag. “You’re cured.”

  “So whose assistant are you?” Sadler pressed. “Or did I have it right before and you just appear to treat the wounded like an angel?”

  Kat felt heat rise to her cheeks. Is he flirting with me? Her eyes dropped away from him and caught on her own attire. She had left her gown turned overcoat in Rat’s alley today. Her oversized brown shirt was now smeared with red. Similar splotches and splatters tracked down taut pants. I’m a walking nightmare, she critiqued. She self-consciously swept at her hair, trying to pull the left side tightly to the back to help balance the shortness of the right. “I work for Doctor Reynolds.” She turned and pointed. The good doctor was watching the exchange ten meters away with an amused expression. “Just… part-time though,” she corrected.

  “Well,” Sadler said with a sigh. He frowned slightly. “There’ll be a bunch of new job openings at the mine tomorrow if you’re looking for something that will fill your days.”

  Kat snorted lightly. “I don’t know anything about mining.”

  He reached out and touched her shoulder gently, dipping his head to ensure he had eye contact. “Hey, nobody does when they start. We lost a lot of laborers and a couple drymen today. It’s hard work but anyone can do it.”

  Kat shook her head while answering, “I can’t leave Doc—”

  “She’ll take the job!” Reynolds called out loudly behind her. “I can’t employ her full time, not because she isn’t smart enough or a hard enough worker but because my business just can’t afford it.”

  Kat turned toward Reynolds with a shocked expression. The older woman ignored her. “Help her out, Mr. Pilot,” the doctor ordered lightly. “She’ll end up being your best employee, I promise.”

  Kat looked back to Sadler. A woman could lose herself in the green of those eyes.

  “Do you want to apply?” he asked. “Like I said, it’s hard work and neither of those jobs, laborer or dryman, is glamourous but once you get settled, I can help you move to a more appealing position.” His mind replayed his words and he cringed visibly. “Oh,” he said with a shudder, “that sounded creepy.” After another wince, he smiled sheepishly and clarified. “I meant to say you can strike for another job once you understand what’s what.”

  Doctor Thomas emerged from the hospital doors, chuckling.

  “She’ll do it,” Reynolds stated.

  Kat nodded doubtfully at first but soon a smile spread over her face. “Okay, I guess I’ll apply. It probably won’t lead to anything anyway.” She looked down at her attire and pulled at her shirt to get it to sit straight. “I’m just a nobody.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Sadler answered earnestly, then let his assertion sit for several silent moments. Finally, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okay. I’m assuming you aren’t a citizen…”

  “No CIN,” Kat confirmed, shaking her head.

  “No problem!” Sadler stated cheerfully. “Give me your name and when I get back to the mine, I’ll submit it to Human Resources and they’ll push a visa through to Waytown’s gates. The mine normally doesn’t run on the weekends but the main office works Saturdays. Can you apply tomorrow? The jobs will go quick.”

  Kat gestured back toward Reynolds. “I was going to—”

  “She can do it,” Reynolds assured.

  Sadler nodded toward the doctor and flashed Kat a broad smile. “Wonderful! The visa info will get you through any checkpoint but the office is kind of far. You might have to use an autocab.”

  “I won’t mind the walk,” Kat stated confidently.

  “Really? Wonderful.” He touched her arm lightly again. “What’s your name?”

  She felt herself blushing. The natural reaction only exacerbated her embarrassment. “It’s Kat. Kat Smith.” She inwardly groaned. Seriously, what a fake-sounding name.

  “It’s been wonderful to meet you, Kat.” His jawline became firm as muscles tensed. “I’m gonna stop saying ‘wonderful’ now. It’s been nice to meet you. Better than nice.” His infectious smile reappeared. “Kat, if I were you, I’d apply for a dryman position. Drymen basically keep things clean. It’s difficult, physical work but not as bad as the laborers.” He tapped his chest. “My name is Sadler Wess. On the application, there’s a spot to write down someone who recommended you. Put my name there. It will push you straight to the front of the line.” He fingered his lower lip and brought his hand away to inspect for blood. “I’ve been healed so I guess I better get going. Now that all the injured have been ferried, they’ll be screaming for the flatbed back at the
mine.”

  “You’re its pilot?” Kat assumed.

  He barked a short laugh. “No, I’m an assistant foreman and hopefully, your next boss.” He threw her a carefree wink and stepped toward the bulky vehicle.

  It was airborne minutes later and Thomas, Kat and Reynolds stood together watching the transport streak to the east. After the din of the turbines had faded away, Thomas pulled a small, flat stick from his pocket.

  “You did a good job today,” he said, extending the stick toward Kat. “You worked from thirteen forty-five to eighteen hundred hours. Maggie negotiated ten credits per hour for you so forty-two credits are loaded on this.” Thomas shrugged slightly and the stethoscope around his neck rose with his shoulders. “It’s corporate so they round down when it favors them.”

  Kat took the credit stick and eyed it curiously. The black surface glowed with the number “42” on both sides. It was otherwise featureless. She unwrapped her first responder’s bag from her shoulder and handed it back to Thomas.

  “There are exchange shops near each checkpoint that convert credits into silver.” Thomas looked at Reynolds. “What’s the going rate now?”

  “Still ten credits for a large. It’s pretty much settled there. She’ll get four large plus a small for that stick.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Maggie, I need you to hang around for a little paperwork inside but you’re free to go, Kat,” he said. “It was nice working with you.”

  After a handshake, the man nodded and walked off.

  When he was out of earshot, Kat turned to Reynolds. “Why did you push so hard for me to apply at the mine?”

  “Because it’s what you need,” Reynolds answered resolutely.

  “I…” Kat faltered. “I thought you liked having me around.”

  “Kat,” Reynolds said, looking at her insistently, “how much money have you saved this week?”

  The answer was a simple one but Kat still had trouble responding. “None,” she said sedately.