“What we see are hundreds of very small hairline fractures running from his ankle up to his hip. The entire bone is covered. All started from the original wounds. Not all of them, but where the bullets penetrated. Could the bullets have had some kind of coating—”
“Don’t speculate,” Trap snapped. “Give me facts. The fractures started around the original wounds, but not all of them. What does that mean? I’m sending to Wyatt as well. He might have some questions after.”
Malichai found that he could breathe again, and his heart slowed. He wanted to hear as well. Trap reduced everything to possibilities. Rational ones. Ones that meant things could be fixed given the mind of the man working the problem. Wyatt too. Wyatt was at home, guarding the fortress, but he still took the time to be in on the consultation in order to try to save Malichai’s leg.
He had good friends. Good family. He looked at his woman. Her expression was every bit as focused as those of the men around her. He had a good woman, a partner, as well. He let out the last of the fear and relaxed into the pain. He had to do his part without freaking out at the thought that like so many other soldiers, he would lose a limb. Like Jerry, who had thrown himself at a grenade to protect his squad, losing both an arm and a leg. So many good men, and he was about to join those ranks.
Ezekiel put a hand on his shoulder but wasn’t looking at him, just moved even closer, half sitting on the bed with his hip, his concentration seemingly on Rubin, Joe and Amaryllis.
“The fractures seemed to begin around the larger, deeper wounds, the ones that originally did the most damage, the ones that should have killed him,” Rubin said. “His artery was torn. I had to go in while I hauled his ass to the helicopter and hold it together to keep him from bleeding out. At that time, I observed that the wounds were reacting strangely, almost bubbling blood from each of the sites. I had a hell of a time keeping him alive just on that run to the chopper.”
Amaryllis gasped and jerked her hands away. She breathed deeply, looking as if she might faint.
“We need that light,” Joe snapped.
Malichai opened his mouth to protest the way Joe was talking to her, but Amaryllis simply opened her palms over his legs and whispered a soft apology, shedding that heat and that burning light right through his skin and muscle to his bones.
“What do you mean by bubbling? There was no mention of that, Rubin.” Trap sounded more annoyed than ever.
“I was running with Malichai on my shoulder, trying to hold his artery together to keep him from bleeding out and observing the wounds all while running up a very rocky hill. I didn’t have much time to observe each wound individually, Trap. I just noticed that the way the blood was coming from several of the wounds was different from normal. It stuck somewhere in the back of my brain.”
Rubin sounded the same as always, unruffled, but Malichai knew him. There was just a small underlying warning note, so low one might not hear it, but Ezekiel and Malichai had grown up with him. They exchanged a long look. He was upset, and that meant he was upset on Malichai’s behalf. Malichai’s stomach did another slow drop. This was bad. His alarm had gone off for a reason.
“Can you tell me how it appeared differently to you?”
“Blood can spray, or ooze, or just leak, pour, stream, but actual bubbling is something I’ve not really witnessed, not like that, where it was copious amounts.” Rubin, again, sounded matter-of-fact, but Malichai knew he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Interesting,” Trap said. “Did you get that, Wyatt?”
“Yes, and it was as much blood as you would expect from a bullet wound of that size, Rubin?” Wyatt asked. “Even with the field dressing?”
“More. And presenting in a very strange way. Almost like a fountain of blood bubbles.”
“You would have thought you would have mentioned that to me,” Trap groused.
“He told us when we asked,” Wyatt pointed out. “Joe, keep going.”
Joe didn’t hesitate, sensing the brewing volcano in Rubin. Rubin was a man who was extremely quiet, but if he exploded, he could take the entire team down with him. “There are no fissures starting from any of the lesser wounds. The cracks certainly are throughout the bone, including where those wounds are, but they didn’t originate there. In the larger damaged areas, where the bullets tore everything up, there are the beginnings of the fractures in the pitting—”
“Stop,” Trap said sharply. “You didn’t mention any pitting.”
“Sorry, Trap. Around each of those wounds in a large circle—”