Last Surgeon by Michael Palmer Read Free Book Online Page B

patient.”
    “What you can do, Garrity, is what you should have done when that wretched fellow first walked into this sad excuse for a clinic-you should have called nine-one-one.”
    Nick took several steps toward the rear of the RV, then paused and looked back over his shoulder.
    “You know, that’s an excellent idea, MacCandliss. I’m glad my nurse did it as soon as we realized how bad off the man was.”
    At that instant, the heavy night was pierced by the sirens of an approaching rescue squad and police cruisers.
     
    “WELL, DOC,” Junie said, “these Steri-Strips will hold until we can get you to a surgeon-maybe even a plastic surgeon. That is some impressive gash you gave yourself.”
    “Nonsense. This mug needs a plastic surgeon like a warthog needs a beautician. Let me dismiss my class and check on the people who stayed around in the bus stop. Then we can talk about whether or not I need to be sewn up.”
    “It’s still oozing. Look, do what you want. There’s just too much testosterone floating around here for me.”
    As usual, the paramedic and EMT had done a stellar job under difficult circumstances. In what seemed no time at all, they had gotten Campbell onto oxygen, cleaned up his old IV and redressed it while simultaneously starting a second one, evaluated and dressed the wound in his side, and begun treatment to raise his blood pressure and oxygen saturation.
    “We’re not going to have to intubate him at this point,” the paramedic said. “I think you saved his life by getting the Narcan and flumazenil into him when you did.”
    “Aw, shucks,” Nick said.
    “And I agree with you that the wound doesn’t look too bad.”
    “Stand over here and say all that again,” Nick responded, gesturing toward the front of the RV where MacCandliss and Fielding were preparing for the arrival of a cab. “Nice and loud.”
    By the time the police finished at the accident scene and entered the van, the cab had arrived and the two men were gone. The cops, grateful that no one had been seriously hurt, and citing that they had more than enough statements to type up already, agreed to have Nick and Junie stop by the precinct house on their way to the hospital.
    The eventful stop at Jasper Yeo’s auto lot was almost over.
    The van would be significantly late for the last two scheduled stops of the evening, but their patients would probably be waiting.
    With no particular place to go, Nick’s three students, Thompson, McBean, and Riddick, sprayed and wiped down the interior of the Fleetwood while Nick and Junie worked their way through the patients who had chosen to remain in the bus stop waiting room. Outside, the rain had finally begun to taper off, and inside, the tension generated by MacCandliss, Fielding, and Campbell had begun to dissipate. Lost in the pleasure of taking care of patients, Nick felt the unique, almost indescribable rhythm of the van settle back in. Finally, with the last of the cases tended to, and Junie readying the exam room for the trip across town, he came up to the front and sat down with his class.
    “If we had tuition, I’d offer to refund it,” he said, pouring himself a mug of coffee.
    “If we had tuition, I’d double it,” McBean said. “It was worth the price of admission just to watch that jerk try and shake you down.”
    “Don’t ever underestimate MacCandliss; people who do end up with fang marks on their butts.”
    “No need to tell me. I know the man from way back.”
    Nick felt his interest immediately perk up. He knew that MacCandliss had not been the one who rejected McBean’s request for increased benefits.
    “What do you mean, Matthew?”
    “I had a buddy named Ferris-Manny Ferris. You might have run into him.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “I’m a little surprised because he had-
has
-PTSD like the rest of us. MacCandliss rejected his petition for an increase in his benefits. Ol’ Manny was depressed in the best of times. The ruling sent him onto the