Chum

Devonte twitches and groans as we lay him haphazardly across a spare shitty twin bed, blood tracing lines down his flank onto the fabric as we do. I can smell the copper of it staining the air, and I can feel my heartrate rise to the occasion, swelling in my chest. It's thick, life blood, from arteries and veins, not just capillaries. The deep crimson of it glows in my mind's eye, outlining his entire vascular system, every inch and centimeter of it. "Akilah! Get over here!" I shout out, watching as he tries to curl up, clutching his side. He's mumbling something, but I can't make out the words. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do! "Tasha! Get Tasha!" Her mom's a nurse. She'll know.

"What happened?" Tasha asks, skidding on her heels as she flings herself into the common area with the rest of us.

"Dumbass went off on his own and got himself shot while we were trying to figure out what the Kingdom was up to. You know. The usual," Akilah growls, her tone an even mixture of bitterness and barely hidden concern.

Connor, Maggie, and Jordan hover nearby, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion. Derek's already halfway out the door, muttering something about needing to get home before sundown. Nobody gives him guff about it, although I can see Akilah staring blankly at the back of his radioactively orange head. I don't blame him - the last thing we need right now is a werewolf loose in the Music Hall on top of everything else. I've seen what he can do firsthand.

"Sam, you've got blood sense. Tell me where he's hit," Tasha commands, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands as she starts ripping open gauze packets. "Akilah, you did first aid training too, right? With the Young Defenders? I need you on this with me."

"On it," I say, moving to Devonte's side and placing my hands on his chest. I let my eyes fall closed, focusing inward, feeling the flow of blood, visualizing it in the same part of my brain that processes space. What was it again? Proprioception? The splatters and droplets dance before my mind's eye, each one a glowing ember in the darkness.

I can see it now, clear as day. The grazing wound across his side, the thin, barely-there slice - no more than a papercut - carved into his scalp, the chunk torn out of his ear by a bullet that came far too close for comfort. "He's got a gash in his side," I report, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "About a third to half an inch deep. Didn't hit anything vital, I don't think, but it's bleeding a lot. And there's damage to his ear too. Looks like it went right through the cartilage."

"Holy shit. That was way too close," Tasha murmurs, her brow furrowing in concentration as she starts packing the abdominal wound with gauze. "Let's hope his eardrum's not ruptured. Keep an eye on that ear, okay? Check his hearing once he's conscious again. For now, just focus on keeping him stable until the ambulance gets here."

I nod, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The coppery scent of blood fills my nostrils, thick and cloying. It's almost too much, the way it seems to coat the back of my throat with each inhalation, but I force myself to push through it. This isn't about me right now. "Akilah, can you hold this in place while I check his other injuries?"

She nods, her jaw set in a grim line as she takes over applying pressure to the abdominal wound. I turn my attention back to his ear, gently probing the ragged edges of the injury with a wince. The bullet carved a furrow right across the top of his ear, taking a not-insignificant chunk of flesh with it. Blood oozes from the wound steadily, trickling down the side of his neck and staining his shirt collar with each passing second.

"There's so much blood," Maggie whispers, hugging herself tightly like she's trying to ward off a sudden chill. "He's not... there's just a lot of blood everywhere." She's right. It's not exactly a pool but it's dripping from his wounds, every passing second, onto what I can only pray is one of the least comfy beds we have in this place. The more blood outside his body the less is inside. Stupid. Stupid!

"Head wounds bleed a lot, Maggie," I say, trying to sound reassuring even as my own heart races in my chest. "It looks way worse than it is, I promise. He's gonna be okay." He has to be. He *has* to be, you hear me, G-d?

"What about his hearing?" Connor asks softly, gnawing on his lower lip with worry. "That's gotta be really fucked up from having a gun go off that close to his ear, right?"

Akilah shakes her head, her eyes never leaving Devonte's face as she keeps steady pressure on his side. "We won't know for sure until he wakes up. But yeah, it's definitely a possibility. Gunshots are loud as hell, and that was point blank range. Even if his eardrum's intact, he's probably got some serious hearing damage."

I run through a list of possible symptoms in my head, trying to remember everything I learned from Gossamer as she passed down her first aid knowledge to me. No, fuck, focus, Sam! Tinnitus, vertigo, pain, bleeding from the ear canal. All signs of potential inner ear trauma. We'll need to keep a close eye on him for any of those once he regains consciousness.

"Alright, this wound's as packed as it's gonna get," Tasha announces, sitting back on her heels with a sigh. "Let's get him into a more comfortable position and elevate his feet. Gotta keep that blood flowing to his brain."

Together, we maneuver Devonte into the recovery position, careful not to jostle him too much in the process. Akilah slides a pillow under his head while I grab a spare blanket to drape over him, trying to stave off the beginnings of shock. His skin feels clammy to the touch, his breathing shallow and rapid. Not good signs, but not unexpected either, considering the trauma he just went through.

Maggie hovers nearby, chewing on her thumbnail as she watches us work. "Should we, like... call his mom or something? Let her know what happened?"

Akilah grimaces. "No. That's not a good idea. Devonte and his parents are not exactly on great terms, and his dad would probably consider him getting shot a sign of weakness. Definitely not a good idea now, maybe later," she says. In my head, though, I'm thinking that Maggie's not exactly wrong either. She deserves to know her son's hurt, even if we can't give her all the gory details.

"Let's wait until he's on his way to the hospital," I suggest, trying to find a middle ground. "We can have Connor call her from the road, give her a heads up so she can meet us there."

Maggie opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but Akilah cuts her off with a sharp shake of her head. "Sam's right. His mom's gonna freak out no matter what, but at least this way, she won't be getting in the way of the paramedics. Trust me."

Maggie doesn't look entirely convinced, but she nods anyway, settling back against the wall with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to process everything that's happened in the last...god, has it really only been like ten minutes since Devonte basically fell through our front door? Feels like a fucking lifetime.

"Jordan, call 911," I say, almost absentmindedly.

"Been on the phone with them for the past seven minutes, girl," Jordan calls back from the other room.

"Should we be stitching him up?" Akilah asks, mostly to me, but a little bit to Tasha, too. "Is he dying? How panicked should I be?"

She sounds almost eerily calm. I don't need to close my eyes to see. It's still stuck where it should be, somewhere above my eyes and a little backwards, behind my field of vision, sort of like it's getting projected backwards. His heart is still beating and his blood is still moving around. Small clots are forming and collecting, slowly glomming together into bigger clots. "His blood flow is steady," I report after a moment, my brow furrowing in concentration. "Not as strong as it should be, but not getting any weaker either. I think the pressure we're putting on the wounds is helping a lot."

Tasha shakes her head. "No stitching. Just keep it compressed. Normally we should've cleaned the wound out too, but I think we're all a little panicked. If there's any saline in that first aid kit, let's get him a little clean, and then put some fresh clean gauze in and keep his feet elevated. Ambulance should be here any time soon," Tasha explains, glancing towards me. "Right, Jordan?"

"Yeah, they said ETA is 15 minutes," Jordan confirms with a nod. "Sam said it was like a third or half inch deep - not too bad, but they definitely need to get him to a hospital. Stop that bleeding for real."

I nod absently, my attention still focused on the invisible web of arteries and veins weaving through Devonte's body. As long as that network keeps intact and the blood keeps flowing, he should be okay. "We got this. He's gonna be alright."

The minutes drag by in tense silence, broken only by the occasional murmur or groan from Devonte as we work to keep him stable. My hearing is laser-focused, straining for any sign of the ambulance's arrival over the howling winds outside. Part of me can't help but wonder how it all went so wrong so fast.

Was he following up on a lead? Investigating the Kingdom's activities all alone? It wouldn't be the first time he did something stupid like this. Still, this is a new level, even for him. Getting *shot*? What the hell was he thinking, stirring up that kind of heat?

The sharp squeal of tires on pavement snaps me out of my thoughts. I whip my head around just in time to see the distinctive red-and-white blur of an ambulance pull up to the curb outside. About damn time! "They're here!" I shout over my shoulder. "Someone go let them in!"

Connor is already moving, fumbling with the locks as he rushes to throw open the front doors. A pair of EMTs burst through, their faces grim and professional as they take in the scene before them. One of them, a woman in her thirties or so, starts barking out rapid-fire questions as she sets her kit down beside Devonte's prone form.

"What happened here? How long has he been unconscious? Any allergies or medical conditions we should know about?" Her eyes flick over to the ragged gash in his side and she curses under her breath. "Jesus, what happened?"

"Gunshot wound," Akilah reports stoically, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. "He got shot around twenty minutes ago by some drive by fuckers. Lost consciousness shortly after."

The paramedic's eyes narrow, clearly picking up on the implication that this wasn't exactly an above-board situation, but she doesn't press the issue. She's a professional – this probably isn't the first shady injury she's dealt with working in Philly.

"Any other injuries we need to be aware of?" she asks instead, already starting to cut away Devonte's shirt to fully expose the extent of the damage beneath.

"Grazing head wound too," I chime in, keeping my voice as level as I can manage despite the anxious flutter in my chest. "Took a chunk out of his ear and might've ruptured his eardrum. Potentially some hearing damage as a result."

The second EMT, a thickset Black guy who looks like he could probably bench-press a truck, winces in sympathy. "Damn, kid had himself a night, huh? Alright, we'd better get him loaded up and to the ER stat. Could be some inner ear trauma or skull fractures underlying all this."

I nod mutely, fighting the urge to bite my lip as they transfer Devonte's dead weight onto a gurney with practiced efficiency. The logical part of my brain knows they're the professionals and he's in good hands now. But a smaller, more primal part of me can't help but instinctively recoil from handing over someone under my care, however briefly. Still, I force the feeling down with a tight swallow.

"I'll go with him," Tasha volunteers, already slipping into a jacket a little too big for her frame. Her voice is steady, focused. I have no doubts she'd make a hell of a first responder or nurse herself one day. "You guys hold down the fort here. Let the DVDs know what's up, if you can."

Connor nods. "Yeah, I'll tag along too. Get him checked in at the hospital and all that." He pauses, his expression twisting with uncertainty. "Christ, how are we gonna explain all this?"

"Leave that part to me," Akilah says with a humorless snort as the paramedics wheel Devonte towards the exit. And just like that, he's gone, disappearing into the night amidst a swirl of flashing lights and howling wind.

Shit.