Madame Passemir hummed uncertainly as she looked over at Yaz’s leg. Carmen’s stomach clenched as she ducked her head down, her eyes sticking to the shiny blood on her shoes.
“I’d bring her down to the basement, dears,” she finally said, letting Sunan and Nicte move back to hold up Yaz again. “I’ll have them let you all in to ride with the courier, they’ll take you straight there.”
The man in Viktor’s group with his guts hanging out, or Sera and Pima, would all be in the courier. She could already feel the scent of blood clogging her nose and her stomach turned again. That was Yaz’s blood on her shoes, from a bullet in her thigh where there were arteries and veins and now there was a bullet that was meant for Sunny, kneeling down. Yaz’s hand brushed against hers again, and she sung her eyes up to meet Madame’s.
“Mr. Giuseppe, he’ll need to treat Yaz,” Carmen said brusquely. She felt a little like she was presenting facts to a distant audience, but she saw Madame’s eyes flash with something she couldn’t pin. “He came with us, and he’s been treating us-“
“In cases like tonight, I fear you might not be able to be treated specifically by Mr. Giuseppe, and possibly not with an injury like Miss Yazmin’s leg here.” Madame Passemir cut in. Behind her, a medic and Viktor were pushing a rudimentary stretcher from the courier van in their direction. Carmen stepped back as Sunny and Nicte eased Yaz up from the ground. The trials had seemed so simple, so easy for the two of them. Mr. Giuseppe had been their familiar face, who knew their medical history. The idea of some icy-eyed surgeon from the basement who they had never met pulling a bullet out of her sister’s leg made her vision tilt.
A warm hand gripped her elbow, steadying her. “I don’t mean to worry you dear, I promise,” murmured Madame, watching Yaz be slid onto the stretcher, and Carmen allowed herself to be guided by that firm hold towards the courier. Silently, Sunny offered his hand as Carmen pulled herself into the van after Yaz, and he followed. Viktor turned his head as Madame spoke up, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and jotting something down on it. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can ask for one of the surgeons specifically - I trust her, and her skills,” she handed the paper to Nicte as she hoisted herself in behind Viktor, and she passed the paper into Carmen’s hands. “She’s night shift, so when you get there you might be able to catch her before the rest of these sorry souls show up.”
