January 24, 2363 AIA

Ionu

Dr. Nathaniel Davis’s cane clicked as he limped down the hall. The dim lights made the floor tiles appear off-hue. The whole medical facility looked ill. Despite the fact it was inevitable for his shift, he’d never gotten used to it; he was always acutely aware of the quiet of the night, the dismal building, and the echo of his own cane.

He stopped at the door to the trauma wing and took a breath to collect himself. Then he pushed into the room.

Jun Fenn was sitting upright on the back table. He was already stripped down to his boxers. Even from the door, Davis could see the bruising.

“Damn you,” Davis said.

“Good evening, Doctor,” Fenn said.

“What was it this time?” Davis maneuvered into the room.

Dr. Davis was the bane of the day crew. The two shifts were engaged in a never-ending war over where everything should go. Their position on the matter was driven by the need for convenience—his, by the need to get around. But tonight he didn’t have to dodge much, which meant that Wyss had already moved most of the carts aside.

Yes, there she was. At the side table, fixing up the idiot deputy.

Wyss was a good nurse. She didn’t deserve this.

“It was a gambling bust,” Fenn said.

“And how did that go, Sheriff?”

Fenn didn’t seem to hear the mocking tone in the doctor’s question. “Not as well as I had hoped.”

Davis stumbled closer and squinted at some of the damage. “Those are lacerations. Wyss!”

The girl didn’t even look up from the work she was doing on Creed’s hand. “Yes, Doctor?”

“What’s this?” He motioned to the sheriff with his cane.

“He insisted on it, sir.”

“You throw a few butterfly bandages on them and think that will do?”

“I insisted,” Fenn said.

Davis rounded on him. “Since when do we listen to lunatics?”

Wyss answered, “When they have a good reason, Doctor.”

“What’s your reason, Fenn?”

“I need you to take down evidence for me.”

“You need treatment!” Davis cracked the end of his cane against the floor.

“Evidence first.”

“What evidence?”

Fenn held his arms straight out to the sides. Several blue and purple blooms showed where his ribs were fractured. The cuts were cleaned, but many of them were deep enough the sheriff had to move carefully or risk reopening them in spite of the bandages holding them together.

“This is what they did to me. I need you to make a record of the injuries.”

Davis took another deep breath and looked down at the sickly tiles. “Fenn, I’m not a medical examiner.”

“You’re a fully licensed practitioner—”

“I don’t know how.”

“I can talk you through it. Miss Wyss was kind enough to get a spare phone ready. It has a recording application and a built-in camera.”

Davis turned to glare at his nurse, but she was still bent over her work.

When the doctor turned back, Fenn said, “Start at my head.”

“This is medically irresponsible, Fenn. You have the right to refuse treatment for yourself—that’s up to you—but Creed, at least—”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“My deputy is already being treated.”

“More butterfly bandages?”

“No, Doctor,” Wyss assured him. “Full treatment.”

Davis noticed that Creed was watching him. The deputy’s face was grave. The doctor turned back to Fenn. “Why does he get to have injuries, but all you have is evidence, Sheriff?”

“Mine will be enough, Davis.”

Davis closed his eyes and scoffed. His head bowed as he leaned over his cane.

The sheriff’s voice broke into the doctor’s reverie. “If you want to get to treating me, the fastest way will be to follow my instructions. We’ll start at my head.”

“Damn you.”

Davis reached out and picked up the phone. For a while, the room was filled with the phone’s occasional flash and the sound of the doctor’s dispassionate voice as he recorded a clinical description of the damage. When the documentation was done, the doctor used his cane to pull over a cart and sat down on a nearby stool.

“We could get x-rays, Fenn. That would add to your collection of evidence.”

“No, thank you, Doctor.”

“I could try to hide it—”

“Davis, your testimony will be enough.”

Davis nodded, then pulled out a bleed-kit.

He and Wyss worked mostly in silence, but the doctor would occasionally call her over to be the extra pair of hands he needed while sealing up the worst of the gashes, or if his limited mobility made it difficult for him to reach something. Whenever she was summoned, she would look up at Creed. The deputy would hold her place in the procedure until she got back.

When Wyss returned after the fifth time she was summoned, Creed whispered, “I’ve got this. You can stay over there.”

“I’m not going to leave you sitting there holding your own bandage, Deputy.” A wry smile appeared on her face. “I know you’re not as bad off as the sheriff, but Davis is good at his work. If I don’t hurry, Fenn will be patched up before you are.”

“If Davis doesn’t tear him a new hole.”

Wyss’s smile widened. “Yeah, well, Doctor Davis worries loudly. And he is worried.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“He thinks it’s his fault, you know.” Her eyes met Creed’s for a moment.

“Who? Fenn?”

Wyss shook her head.

The deputy looked over her shoulder at the doctor.

Davis was weaving a spider cast around Fenn’s forearm and wrist. When he spoke, his voice sounded tired.

“Sheriff, can’t you leave the gambling alone? They’ve tolerated your interference so far, but they won’t like it if you cut into their profits.”

“They’re breaking the law and taking advantage of a vulnerable group of people.”

“Those people choose to participate. They aren’t innocent.”

“No, they’re desperate. And you know it.”

“You can’t fix everything.”

“I’m not trying to fix everything. Only one thing at a time. We’ll see how far I get.”

Davis grit his teeth, then said, “One thing at a time? Then what were you doing up at the heap? Someone told me they saw you there.”

“Are you collecting informants, Doctor?”

“Jun, I warned you. That place is dangerous.”

“If they’re any good, would you mind sharing them?”

“They won’t talk to you.” The doctor leaned over to grab a pair of snips. “Why do you go up there?” He cut and sealed off the end of the cast.

“I don’t go often.”

“You shouldn’t be going at all! What good does it do?”

“It reminds me why I stay.”

“Jun Fenn, you will die if you keep going up there.”

“Nathan, I only go as close as Rolling Ridge. I’m keeping my distance, and the climate is on my side. What are you afraid I’m going to catch?”

“A bullet!” The doctor stood up, threw down the snips, and snatched up his cane. “Fenn, you’ve got to learn there are some lines you shouldn’t cross.” Davis hobbled out of the room, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

Jun Fenn gingerly pulled himself off the table and began the arduous process of getting dressed. While his back was turned, he said, “You heard him?”

Creed said, “It would’ve been hard not to hear him, Boss.”

“The man is smart. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“He does.”

Fenn finished buttoning his shirt and turned. “Miss Wyss, will you be much longer?”

“No, Sheriff.”

“Creed, will you be all right here?”

“As formidable as Miss Wyss is, I’m pretty sure I could take her in a fight, Boss.”

There was a snort from the nurse. “In your condition? Not likely.”

“I don’t know. You’re not that big—” His musing comment was interrupted by his own inarticulate shout.

“Sorry, Deputy,” she said. “I must have pressed a little hard there.”

“Be careful, Creed.” Fenn walked over to them. “Nurses are dangerous creatures.”

“And vicious,” Tyler noted.

“I hear they hunt based on sound. If you keep your mouth shut, you might survive.”

The deputy pressed his lips together and nodded.

The sheriff returned the nod. “Good. Now I’m going to go see a man about some painkillers.”

Wyss tossed away the backing to the last bandage and turned her attention to Creed’s injured eye. After a brief inspection, she groaned.

“That’s going to be ugly.” She had muttered it in a distracted voice, but then she stopped herself and folded her arms. “Or was that vicious of me to say?”

Pain shot through Creed’s chest when he laughed. Wyss put her hands on his shoulders to help brace him up.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she said. After he relaxed, she stepped back. “I’m afraid there’s not much we can do. You’ll have a black eye. You might have a fracture at the edge of the orbit, but I can’t tell without an x-ray, and there’s not much we could do for that either.” She turned to the cart and started cleaning up. “I can’t see any blood in your eye, but I’d appreciate it if you’d check the mirror often.”

“So I can see how ugly it is?”

“Exactly. Please let me know if you see any red at the edge or around the iris. If your vision blurs, doubles, or changes in any way, I recommend you come back in. You can use a cold compress to help keep the swelling down and make you more comfortable—”

“Wyss, I know how to take care of a black eye.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She sighed. “Well, I’m done with you. Do you need any help with your shirt?”

“I’ll manage. Thank you.”

After Creed was done getting dressed, he gently took Wyss by the arm. She looked at him, but he was checking the door. When he saw it was clear, he turned his attention to her. “Eve, are we still on for this weekend?”

A small smile ticked the edge of her lips. “I’m up for it. What about you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”