The Cardinal Bird (1 of Cardinal Series)

Chapter 12

AN: Another update, to make up for the one I missed last week while I was gone :)

Chapter 12

"You've been shot. Twice." Brandon repeated, without any inflection to his tone. His eyes stayed on the one in my stomach. "Recently. Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

I didn't say anything.

"And then you were dropped in that tank of filth."

"Tank?"

Brandon didn't acknowledge Corey's question. His hand brushed along my stomach. "They're infected, shit. Corey!" He didn't say anything else besides his name, but Corey was jumping up and making his way out the back of the van.

"Wait! Corey!" I said. He turned back to me. I picked up the thumb drive, knowing he'd know how important it was. I held it out to him. "Will you keep this safe?"

Corey nodded and came back to get it before leaving.

Brandon capped the peroxide before swiping everything on the bench back into the first aid kit. He placed that on the floor next to him and put his hand on my shoulder. "Lie down."

There was no gentle guiding to his actions anymore. He was concentrated, and he was commanding.

I laid back on the bench, Brandon's hand a steady presence as he helped ease me back. Two elastic snaps sounded, one right after the other as the powdery and sharp scent of latex filled the space. Rubber gloves.

His quick fingers, now covered in gloves, rolled the shirt up and tucked it away securely as he got to work. The first aid box rattled around on the floor as he sifted through it. I tried to watch what he was doing at first but then gave up when I realized that it was out of my line of sight. Besides, watching Brandon work would be way too intimidating, so I didn't have many other options other than to stare at the ribbed ceiling of the van.

"Peroxide," he warned me. "Might be cold. Might sting."

It washed over me in an abrupt wave that lurched and ebbed away and down my sides. It pattered and dripped to the floor with a splash.

Well then. I guess we weren't dabbing and toweling anymore.

"Going to scrub some of the scum out. Don't have anything stronger than OTC painkillers. Want some?"

I shook my head, rolling it against the hard bench beneath it. Light shifted and danced from the back of the van. I pulled my head up a bit to look. Corey was back.

"Lean back," Brandon growled, scrubbing a wide area surrounding the wound. "You're putting tension on your stomach."

I dropped back down to the bench without too much of a fuss. I wasn't going to argue with him when he was helping me.

The van shifted just as Brandon pressed the cloth to the bullet hole, causing his hand to dig in. It was like he had pressed a live wire inside me. My body jumped involuntarily as the pain raced through me, sending messages along my neurons that had me sweaty and shaky in a flat second.

"Shit, Corey," he hissed. "A little warning."

"Sorry! I wanted to help. It looks bad."

Brandon swiped at the wound, deftly switching out the soiled, wet cloth with a new one. "I'm going to need some more rags." He dabbed at the wound, absorbing some of the moisture there. "Also, if you can handle it, you could start cleaning the one on her leg."

"I'll be back," Corey said quickly, quietly before he left.

It was maybe thirty seconds before the light shifted again, but it wasn't Corey that spoke up.