“What do you have there?” Even asked the motorist.
“I’m afraid he’s dead,” the motorist replied.
“He’s very much dead,” Lexx casually informed them.
Evan, Monica, and the motorist looked at Lexx with bewilderment and possible shock to her callous comment regarding the dead man.
“We picked him up at the hospital morgue an hour ago,” she announced.
Lexx indicated the writing on the back of the limousine. It read, ‘Davenport Funeral Home’. Through the open back door, the stretcher could be seen strapped down, although half-cocked, inside the back of the limousine. The motorist suddenly jumped away from the corpse and stared at the dead man with horror. As Evan rushed the stretcher toward the awaiting ambulance, a pedestrian caught Monica by the arm.
“There are people trapped in that car,” the female pedestrian cried out with alarm. “They’re bleeding badly!”
Monica nodded Evan onward with the stretcher and followed the woman to the smashed Buick. Monica opened the driver’s side door and immediately hesitated. Blood ran from Eric’s neck in a waterfall down the front of his shirt. Monica applied pressure to the wound and felt his wrist with her free hand. She immediately frowned then looked back at the man’s head. Upon closer inspection, it was clear his neck was broken. She removed her hand from his bleeding neck, allowing the blood to continue to pour from his jugular.
The female pedestrian appeared alarmed. “Aren’t you going to do something for him?” she gasped.
“He’s already dead,” Monica informed her then hurried around the car to the passenger side. The pedestrian followed her. She attempted to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Monica removed a tool that resembled a large screwdriver from her bag and rammed it into the door near the lock. With a couple of good thrusts, she was able to jolt the door open. Monica threw open the door and immediately checked Ava’s pulse. She was still alive! She had several deep cuts and two broken arms that Monica was easily able to identify visually. She immediately applied gauze to the more severe cut on her head and looked around while holding the pad to the laceration.
“I need a stretcher over here!” Monica cried out.
Chapter Three
Emmerich General Hospital was alive with activity and chaos in the dreary evening. News vans appeared to blanket the front of the building in what was possibly the worst accident in the history of their quiet town. Ambulances impatiently sounded their sirens at the news vans blocking their paths to the emergency room. Police cars were scattered throughout the area surrounding the hospital in an attempt to reign in busybodies lurking on every corner and control the media scattered about. The emergency waiting room was filled with anxious family members and those with less serious injuries seeking medical attention. It was going to be a long night for staff and patients. The nurses already appeared worn and frazzled, since most had been at the end of their twelve-hour shift when all hell broke loose. Those already working were forced to remain and help the evening shift.
Lexx paced the waiting room while clutching her wrapped wrist. She’d received her sprained wrist as a result from her CPR on Brandon and not from the crash itself. She knew it was only a sprain and had wrapped it herself with supplies from her own medical bag. Apart from a slight concussion, she walked away nearly unscathed. Considering how many times the limousine rolled, her lack of injuries was a miracle. She didn’t understand how her injuries could be so minor while her uncle seemed to be clinging to life and undergoing emergency surgery. She watched several stretchers being rushed through the waiting room and into the emergency room through the double doors. Several men and woman on the stretchers were covered in blood with injuries Lexx could only imagine were life-threatening. She knew there were other family members within the waiting room awaiting word on their loved ones the same as she was, but she couldn’t even think about them. She was too worried for her own uncle. A man in his late twenties, Carson Davenport, entered the emergency room. He scanned the crowded room, saw Lexx, and hurried to her. She’d held it together fairly well until she saw her brother, Carson. As he pulled her into his arms, a flood of tears streaked her face and she sobbed uncontrollably.
“Lexx, are you okay?” Carson asked while clinging to her. He was obviously more worried about his little sister than he would ever lead on.
She reluctantly pulled away from her brother and attempted to wipe her tear-drenched face with trembling hands. “They took Uncle Brandon into surgery nearly two hours ago,” she said while sniffing and tried to control her emotions. “I don’t know if he’ll be okay. He looked really bad.”
“He’s tough. He’ll be okay,” Carson assured her while keeping his hands on her shoulders. “Rolan is waiting downstairs with the hearse. Why don’t you let him take you home?” His look was oddly tender and sympathetic compared with his usual brotherly attitude. “I’ll stay here and wait for word on Uncle Brandon.”
“No, I’ll wait,” she replied softly. “You’ll need to help Rolan unload our friend back home. I won’t be able to lift much anyway.” She took a deep breath and grimaced slightly. She didn’t want to ask the delicate question, but she had to know. “Did you get a look at our client? How bad was he?”
“We’ve restored worse,” he replied with a tiny, reassuring smile. “I’ll return as soon as we’ve put him on ice.”
Carson gently kissed her on the forehead and looked into her eyes. “Uncle Brandon’s going to be okay, I promise,” he assured her.
Lexx nodded so Carson wouldn’t worry about her, but she knew he was just saying those things to make her feel better. The ache in her heart and the lump in her throat had her convinced he wouldn’t make it. She fought the tears waiting to be set free. She couldn’t imagine life without her uncle. She’d never known a more levelheaded man. Strict and straight as they came, and yet he enjoyed corrupting his niece and nephew when they least expected it. Taking them to their first rated ‘R’ movie, giving them their first alcoholic drink, and buying her that trashy romance novel her mother wouldn’t allow her to read. For Carson, it was cigars, beer, and girly magazines. After allowing Carson to overindulge, her brother successfully stayed away from tobacco and booze. A night puking his guts out cured him indefinitely. Unfortunately, there was no cure for Carson’s insatiable appetite for female companionship. It was his one vice, and he intended to make the most of it.
†
It was nearly midnight by the time Brandon was out of surgery and in the recovery room. Surviving the surgery was the first of many major hurdles for her uncle. Lexx sat in the chair alongside Brandon’s bed while holding his hand and stared at the monitors and tubes. He remained unconscious the entire thirty minutes she’d been allowed to be by his side. He appeared slightly mangled but peaceful. The steady beat of his heartrate machine comforted her, reminding her that he was still alive. A man in his late forties wearing a scrub suit and lab coat, Dr. Gunther Sharp, entered the room with a clipboard in his hand. He saw Lexx by Brandon’s bedside and offered a gentle smile.
“You must be the niece,” he announced. “I’m Dr. Gunther Sharp, Chief Surgeon.”
“Are you the one who operated on my uncle?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Your uncle sustained several hairline fractures along his ribs, clavicle, and sternum. I suspect some of those injuries happened during CPR.”
Lexx shifted with discomfort.
“It’s common,” he assured her. “He has some swelling in his brain from the contusion but no hemorrhaging. The next twenty-four hours are critical in these cases, but I’m optimistic about his recovery.”
Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. It was the first optimistic statement she’d heard, and she couldn’t deny it made her feel much better. “So you think he’ll be okay?”
“Once he wakes, I believe he’ll make a full recovery,” Gunther announced with a hopeful smile. “He may be comatose for a couple of days, but with his head injury, that’s not surprising.” He sa
w her wrapped wrist and the bandage on her temple. “Have you been checked over?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied and quickly brushed off any concern for her condition.
She couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t want to tell him that she had checked over herself. She didn’t want him sending her for x-rays or tests. Lexx just wanted to remain by Brandon’s bedside as long as they’d allow her to stay with him.
“Well, I’m going to prescribe home rest for you for the rest of the night,” he announced sternly then offered a warm smile. “Go home. We’ll look after your uncle.”
“I think I should stay.”
“We’re moving him to ICU and you won’t be allowed to visit for much longer anyway,” he gently informed her. “Come back in the morning.” His smile was charming but stern. “Doctor’s orders. I insist.”
Lexx eyed her uncle, considered the doctor’s comment, and reluctantly nodded. It wasn’t what she felt she should do, but she was physically exhausted and feeling extremely sore from the minor injuries she’d received from the accident as well. She uncertainly stood and headed for the door. She paused within the doorway to take one last look back at her uncle. She saw Dr. Sharp injecting something into Brandon’s IV tube. It was curious, she thought. Most times, the nurses gave injections and medications. Of course, with how hectic the evening had been, she assumed they were shorthanded. As long as Brandon was recovering, she’d worry about minor details in the morning.
Chapter Four
The elegant, three-story Victorian home was in pristine condition and almost mansion-like with beautifully landscaped grounds. There were flowers, shrubs, and a small fountain to the front of the home set back on its large parcel of well-groomed land. Several gorgeous weeping willow trees lined the long driveway to a large, covered carport. The home would undoubtedly cause envy at first glance. Upon closer inspection, an elegant sign out front with the words, ‘Davenport Funeral Home’, dissuaded any envy. It was nearly two in the morning, yet several lights remained on within the mansion-like funeral home giving it an eerie glow. The large basement prep room resembled a sterile hospital morgue. An old-fashioned, gate-style elevator showcased the room just near the main door and stairs, giving it an old-world, country mansion charm. Lexx sat on a rolling pub stool and stared off at nothing in particular. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t manage to sleep. She had too much on her mind. It had been a while since she had spoken and the silence was becoming uncomfortable. Lexx took a deep breath and finally spoke.
“I can’t believe there were four fatalities and another dozen or more in critical condition,” she announced softly and shook her head at the thought. “I’m really worried about my uncle, you know. He’s been more of a father to me than my own father.” She hesitated and shifted with discomfort. She didn’t like how that sounded, even if it were true. “I mean, I love my father, don’t get me wrong, but he was never really equipped to handle having a daughter.” She drifted out a moment and finally looked up. “You know, I never told anyone that before, but I know you won’t repeat it.”
Lexx stared at the corpse of the young man lying on the metal prep table. It was the same young man, Roger, who had been ejected from the limousine during the accident. A sheet was pulled up to his neck, leaving only his head exposed. She sighed deeply and stood.
“Let’s see what sort of damage we’re looking at.”
She pulled the sheet back, exposing his chest. He sustained postmortem and perimortem injuries to his chest, arms, and shoulders. A gaping wound had been crudely sutured on his chest. There were several scrapes and abrasions on his arms as well. Those injuries were from the car crash that originally claimed his young life. He had clung onto life for a few hours after the crash, surviving major surgery, but his injuries were too serious. He passed away yesterday morning. Lexx and Carson had heard about the crash on the news the previous night.
With the image they’d seen of the wreck, it was surprising he was in as good of shape as he was. The young man was no more than twenty-one years old. From a wealthy family, he was denied nothing, including the very expensive sports car he promptly wrecked three days after receiving the keys. His blood alcohol level was through the roof. A few bad decisions and his life was over before it really began. Lexx studied the dead man a moment longer. He was so close to her in age; it gave her chills. She needed to stop thinking about that. She picked up a scalpel and gently but with precision sliced into the jugular vein on his neck. There was minimal blood, and what blood there was, was thick and dark. She removed a large, metal device with a sharpened end. It resembled the most terrifying needle one could fathom.
She looked at the young man’s face, sighed deeply, and then inserted the sharpened end into the incision in his jugular vein. It required some pressure to place it perfectly into the jugular but not so much as to shred through it. The other side entered the opposite end of the open jugular. She connected the plastic tubing to the huge needle sticking out of his neck and a second that ran down the side of the table. Lexx flipped a switch on the nearby machine. The machine hummed as embalming fluid was pushed through the plastic tube. She gently tapped the line. As the embalming fluid was forced in, the thick, dark coagulated blood was pushed out through the second tube, which emptied into a biohazard container beneath the table. She gently massaged his limbs to break up the rigor mortis, allowing the embalming fluid to push the old blood more easily through his body. As the machine hummed while gently doing its job, Lexx pulled back the sheet to expose the lower half of the young man’s body. She groaned softly with distaste.
Postmortem scraps and torn flesh covered his legs and torso. His left leg had been broken and set from the accident that killed him, but his right foot sustained a compound fracture from the second accident. The broken anklebone protruded through the skin, leaving his foot severely twisted inward. Once again, there was very little blood with the postmortem injury. Lexx took a deep breath, grasped the leg and foot, and with a firm thrust, she reset the bone. The sound of grinding bone went straight through her. Normally, she received bodies from the hospital and they would take care of those sorts of injuries, but since this happened on her watch, it became her problem. She was slightly sickened. It was never the sight that bothered her, but the sound sent chills down her spine. She leaned on the table with both hands and inhaled deeply. Once the feeling of nausea passed, she straightened and concentrated on her job. She again looked at the young man’s pale face.
“Don’t worry about the scrapes from the accident,” she informed him. “I’ll have you as good as new for the funeral.”
There was a soft tap on the door, startling her. Lexx looked across the basement prep room to a tall, lanky man in his late twenties. Rolan Falcon stood in the doorway not far from the elevator while watching her. His look was solemn but exhausted, and he looked as if he’d rolled out of bed.
“Do you have any idea what time it is? You should be getting some sleep,” Rolan said gently.
“I can’t sleep,” she informed him. “If I don’t keep busy, I’ll go insane.”
He folded his arms across his chest and casually leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Sounds like you’re halfway there already.”
“That was a private conversation between Roger and me.”
Rolan straightened and studied her a moment. His look was sympathetic. “Want to talk about it?”
“What’s there to talk about?” Lexx replied matter-of-fact without looking at Rolan. “We won’t know anything until he comes out of the coma.”
“Nothing to talk about?” Rolan gasped with surprise, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. “The man you idolized since you were in diapers died in front of you and you brought him back to life by cutting a hole in his windpipe.” His look was stern. “You can’t just keep that stuff inside.”
“I’m pretty sure I can.” Lexx returned to her work.
“Lexx--”
“Good night, Rolan,” she chirp
ed without looking at him.
Rolan frowned and left the room. She knew Rolan was well-meaning. He was a good man and a good friend. Carson and Rolan were roommates in college. Although they didn’t exactly hit it off, a forced friendship was formed. When her brother introduced him to her, she and Rolan instantly connected. There was never anything romantic between them, but they shared a close friendship. Rolan was rarely ever serious, which balanced Lexx’s excessively mature and serious personality. Basically, he forced her to act her age once in a while. When she needed an assistant to help with the ‘behind the scenes’ work, as Carson called it, she insisted they hire Rolan. His live-in status was a mixed blessing. She was thrilled; Carson was not. Lexx snapped out of her trance and again looked at the gaping wound left by the compound fracture on his ankle. She took a deep breath then reached for her medical sewing kit. If she wanted something to keep her busy and get her mind off her Uncle Brandon, her young client would do just that. He would require some major reconstruction. Thankfully, none of the damage was done to his face. She promised his mother an open casket, and she didn’t want to disappoint the already grieving woman.
Chapter Five
Emmerich General Hospital was oddly peaceful in the early morning hours. Considering the chaos just last evening, things were unusually quiet. Two ambulances were parked out front while awaiting emergency calls. The news vans were gone, for the moment, and there were few visitors in the early morning hours. The fourth floor ICU was almost peaceful with barely a soul around. Lexx stood before the UCI nurse’s station and casually leaned on the tall counter while flipping through her uncle’s chart. There weren’t any nurses around or near the desk, and Lexx was tired of waiting for answers to her simple questions. She still wanted to know what that injection was her uncle received from Dr. Sharp, the man claiming to be Chief Surgeon. Doctor’s didn’t typically give shots, so it still bothered her that morning. With last evening’s massive wreck, the nurses were undoubtedly swamped caring for critical patients and couldn’t be bothered taking time out to answer her insignificant questions, at least that’s how she felt.
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