More Than Eyes Alone Can See
2
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Don’t go
anywhere. Where does she think I’m
fucking going to go? Not only can I not
see, but I think I’m finally feeling the affects of
losing so much blood. My head is
spinning and I haven’t even stood up in the past half hour.
And the pain.
chipping away at his control. He’d never
passed out before in his life, but now he would be more than willing to.
was willing to beg for the pain to leave, but he knew it wouldn’t be too
long. Just as he knew he’d kill anyone
who witnessed such an indignity. Or perhaps
he’d just shoot himself, but he doubted that.
He’d lived this long; he wouldn’t roll over and die quietly now.
Even as he thought
that, another wave of pain crashed over him, stealing his senses from him.
taste or feel anything but the pain.
Couldn’t smell anything but his own blood.
gripped him in much the same way that sadistic bastard of a doctor’s instrument
had gripped his eyes, tearing at him.
feeling hollow and raw. Left his lungs
and his muscles burning from a lack of oxygen, his mind reeling, his senses
muddled and confused. And cold.
He leaned against
the wall and waited for his mind to return to normal, afraid it never would,
afraid that the pain and the dark would warp his sanity until he screamed for
death. Can’t let that happen. Won’t let
that happen. I’ll blow my brains out
before that happens. With that
promise, he could feel his mind and his perceptions returning to normal for the
time being.
With the return of
his mental facilities, he heard a tapping where he assumed the doorway to the
room was. It was hard to tell.
and hollow rings. He was assuming that
it was loft-like in design - high ceilings, uncarpeted floors,
. taptap . . . tap . . . t-tap. . . .
was localized. It wasn’t getting any
closer or farther away. He listened
harder, concentrating, determined to figure the puzzle out.
boots. The floors here were
hardwood. What is that?
He suddenly
relaxed. It was the sound of nails
against a hard surface. Apparently his
hostess was waiting for ss ass awkward moment to walk into the room.
long she had been standing there – if she had stood and stared at the eyeless
man in the throws of pain.
Dangerous time to get angry. Not
enough control. Her only sin is being
softhearted enough to take in an injured man.
she’s standing outside doe door, she’s waiting for me to let her come in.
intelligent woman I’ve even met.
his experience it was rare to find a human who was willing to let someone deal with
pain on their own without butting in or goggling.
knew that. That could be a problem later.
Intuitive people were often more trouble than they were worth.
disorder. Look at what he did with the
information he gathered about how peopled acted.
could read other people in the same way drivers read street signs.
become a liability. And liabilities were
always disposed with.
much.
***************************************
<
<
Tess returned with
the promised blanket to find her patient in the throws of another pain
attack. Perhaps the most awful thing
about it was the way he refused to make a sound.
long, how much pressure until his jaw breaks?
something for the pain, but knew she couldn’t.
Knew that Dr. Guevera favored the use of this particular pain altering
drug because it interacted with any other pain-killer in such a way that the
heart often stopped. She wasn’t prepared
to kill just to stop pain. Not when she
still had other alternatives.
watched for several moments before turning her back on Sands.
knew she had stood and watched him suffer.
She had known him less than two hours, but she knew that he’d rather
suffer alone than endure any attempts she made to ease his pain.
matter how much her guilty conscience cried out for her to do something to let
them off the hook. No matter how much
the doctor within her screamed to alleviate pain in any way she could.
not impose anything else upon this man.
He has lost enough today. Let him
keep what is left of his dignity.
So she stood, a
stranger in her own house, sharing perspersonal space with yet another stranger.
nervous habit – one of the few she hadn’t been broken of.
her nails pared down below the quick on several occasions, she had taught
herself to stop. It was no fun to go
around with bloody fingers, especially since any
schoolwork she turned in that was in anything less than pristine condition she
was punished for and made to do over.
But tapping nails was acceptable.
Tess had no idea
how long she stood in the corridor outside her room waiting for some signal
that it was okay to enter. A lazy breeze
moved past her, ruffling shouldergth gth waves of brown hair.
should tie it back before I start stitching, she thought idly.
time to repaint them. She mentally ran
through her inventory of medications, antibiotics, bandages, and saline
solutions. It would probably be best to hook the man up to an IV, get some fluids
in him. All the while her fingers
went tap . . . taptap
. . . tap . . . t-tap. . . against the wall.
buzzed in a corner somewhere, the harsh breathing of her patient settled out.
She heard nothing
more for several minutes, until a question came from the bloody figure on her
bed, “Are you planning on freezing me to death?
Because if you are, I’d prefer you simply put a bullet between my
eyes. I’m afraid I don’t have the
patience for anything else today.”
***************************************
Patching Sands up
was a long, tedious, and painful experience for both patient and surgeon.
topical Novocain to lessen the bite of needles and antiseptics.
sure that the bigger pieces of cloth and thread were removed from the
wounds. This involved painstaking care
and the constant swabbing of blood. But
luckily the Novocain had been enough to dull that pain to a level where she
could work on him without too much guilt.
Still worse was the
need to wash out the wounds. She used a
syringe much like those given to people who had had wisdom teeth removed to
flush the injuries with saline solution.
She heard “Giovanni” grit his teeth, but never mentioned it.
occasional question if more of the numbing salve was needed.
slathered in antibacterial ointments, Tess wrapped them in several layers of
gauze to keep them undisturbed for the time being.
long night, and she’d like to do all she could to keep her stitches from being
ripped out.
The only moment
that was not so grim came after Tess managed to get Sands’ jeans off him.
observe anything. It was beyond her why
men or women felt the need to squeeze
themselves into tight pants. She knew
why, but her intellect still declared it was stupid.
pr
probably be easier to cut them off, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to
replace these. I’d rather he have pants should the need arise.
Finally getting the
black denim off, she looked up to see if she had caused too much pain and saw
the pattern on his boxers. They were
black cotton with yellow smiley faces.
That just figures, doesn’t it?
“Look, I know the
view is admirable, but when it’s cold, it’s really not worth the attention
you’re giving it. If you wouldn’t mind?”
Tess looked up
guiltily, before realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing,
or not doing for that matter. Still, her
cheeks were lightly flushed. To recover
her composure, she quipped, “You know, I had you figured as a boxer-brief kind
of guy.”
He looked puzzled
for a moment, but then his forehead cleared of the baffled lines.
those today.” He laughed bitterly.
boxers. Fat lot of good they did
me.” After that, the mood in the room
stayed oppressively somber.
Finally, Tess could
do more. There was nothing left to tend
to but Sands’ face, and all that entailed.
This was most likely going to be one of the hardest things she had ever
done. And it would be no easier for
him. He had kept his sunglasses on as if
to deny his injury, which was ridiculous.
The blood now dried and caked on his face and throat told its own story.
She sat on the
bedside for several minutes praying for fortitude for them both, and a light
touch for her. In the hour she had been
tending his other wounds, Sands had had four more pain attacks, each one coming
closer together with more intensity.
There was no way she was going to be able to do this without causing
more pain, and she hated that. Hated how
helpless it made her feel. She was a
doctor – she was supposed to make pain go away, not incite it.
numerous painkillers on hand, and not one she could safely give him.
system.
Staring at her
hands she asked, “You know I’m going to have to tend to all your wounds,
right?” His right hand was just visible
from the corner of her eye. She watched
it curl into a fist in her bedding. “I
nee cle clean up your face, and then . . . and then take a look at . . . at the
. . . the injuries. And I’ll probably
need to flush them out in the same way I did your bullet wounds.”
“Now, Novocain
isn’t going to do much to dull the pain, even if I gave it to you in injection
form. It’s just too mild a
painkiller. But there is one possibility
to make this more . . . more comfortable . . . physically comfortable. I
can give you another shot of the same stuff that the cartel gave you.
would make it seem more distant. Less of
a threat. The cartel must have overdosed
you severely, but I could avoid doing that. spanspan>I think. I have no way of knowing
how much is still in your system. But
it’s up to you. I won’t give you
anything without your permission . . . unless I feel that doing otherwise would
be putting your life in danger.” She had
to be truthful with him. This was going
to put him in an incredibly vulnerable state, one that he would most likely
hate her for.
Hate her for perpetuating.
“Why can’t you put
me under?” The question was strained
even if his face was emotionless.
“Because of
Guevera. He knew what he was doing when
he gave Barillo’s henchmen that medication.
It’s a type of neural suppressant that interacts badly with any kind of
painkiller or narcotic. Ten percent of
patients who have a reaction slip into a coma.
But seventy percent die because their heart stops.”
did seek out help, it would only kill you.
I always knew there was a good reason I hated them all.”
handle the pain of actually cleaning the blood off your face.
actual wounds, the pain will probably be so great that it will overcome the
last of the drugs in your system, and you’ll pass out.
Tess let Sands
think. She was offering him a hell of a
choice. Incredible pain and oblivion in
which he would be defenseless, or more of a drug that had left him defenseless
enough for this to happen in the first place.
Ten minutes or so
went by as he weighed his options. “Is
this drug habit forming? Am I going to
walk out of here as messed up as an opium addict?”
“Not after just one
more dose. Anything past that, and yes,
addiction is a possibility, especially if you’re addicted to anything
else.” Tess just trailed off.
“I’d ask you to
simply shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery, but I suspect you’re
getting tired of cleaning up my blood.”
“No, I wouldn’t ask
that if I were you.” She felt cold at
how casually he spoke of murder and suicide.
If she hadn’t been able to tell that he was a natural killer upon first
seeing him, she’d be able to now. She
wasn’t even sure why she was helping him.
She’d watched him gun down people today with no remorse.
for him. But she had been around enough
men like him to know that killing men gave him no more pause
to stop than killing anect.ect. She
wondered if her own quest had driven her mad as he.
surely, he didn’t deserve this. If it’s
in your power to help, hadn’t you do so?
yourself. Beyond that, you’re out of
your depth.
“Give me the
drug.” Tess was startled out of her
thoughts, and grateful that it had happened before she had given herself a headache.
decision. This way he would at least be
aware of what was happening around him.
“Okay,” she
whispered. “Just give me a moment to
prepare a dose.”
***************************************
It was simple and
easy to fill an unused syringe with enough of the medication to cirent
ent
Sands’ nerve endings. Tess even used a
little less than a full dose to make up for what was still circulating through
his veins. She came back to the bed,
needle and a jar of cotton swabs in hand.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “You’re going to want to
lie down for this. When we’re through,
we’ll sit you back up because it’ll probably be more comfortable to sleep in
that position for the time being.”
hadn’t said. Slowly, he started to lower
himself onto the bed.
She started to help
him, but then realized just how unwelcome that move would be, so she kept her
hands to herself. She supposed his
silence was gratitude enough for that.
Once he was laying down, she set the syringe on
the nightstand, and opened a drawer. She
removed a handgun from it – a simple revolver.
Her first weapon. The gun she had
learned to shoot with. Carefully, she
placed it in his hand.
***************************************
“What’s this?”
knew it. Sands knew what a gun felt
like, no matter what his state of mind was.
“I thought you
might feel better if you knew that I knew that you could do me some lasting
harm should I overstep my boundaries as a physician.
if you have even the slightest suspicion that I’m betraying your confidence.”
The woman was
crazier than he was. He was beginning to
doubt if she was really even a doctor.
What made her think that he could keep from firing the next time the
pain got the better of him? What made
her think he wouldn’t kill her as soon as she was done to keep his whereabouts a
secret? “Excuse me for asking, but are
you insane?”
“No,
Simply trying to level the playing field.
“The gesture.
“Oh no, I assure
you that there are six rounds in that weapon.
I simply know that I’m such a good doctor that you’ll have no need or
cause to fire it.” Tess reached for the
pitcher of water, the wastebasket, and her cotton swabs.
satisfaction, she reached for the syringe.
“I’ll explain the steps I take as I take them, so you know what’s going
on.” She primed the injection.
sn
style='mso-spacerun:yes'>
She gave the shot
quickly and efficiently. “Now, I want
you to tell me when things start getting blurry, when reality seems to be hazy,
distant.” While she waited for the drug
to take affect, she pulled on a pair of latex glo
getting into the wounds.
Tess didn’t have to
wait long. After about ninety seconds,
Sands made a noise. It sounded like,
“I’m ready,” but she really wasn’t sure.
It was enough to be going on with though.
“Okay.
your neck and face.” Sands reached up to
remove his sunglasses, but she stopped him.
“You can wait until the last minute to remove those, ‘Giovanni.’
She was as gentle
as she could be as she cleaned the dried blood off his face.
but she was determined to remove the mask of gore that was doing so much to
keep this man a mystery. She had no
desire to know him intimately, but she needed to at least be able to read his
face if she was going to be able to tend him to the best of her ability and his
willingness.
As much as she
lingered over her task, all too quickly she reached the point where she would
have to ask Sands to remove his glasses.
She sed sed to do it herself.
Wanted to give him control over at least that.
I’ve cleaned as much of you as I can without removing your glasses.
them, or if you would rather do it.” She
waited for a response for several minutes, but got none.
Slowly, Sands
reached up and removed the shades that were hiding the worst of his
injuries. Tess waited until his hand was
back at his side before moving her eyes to her face.
she had been prepared for. While she had
seen doctors remove organs and tissue from the bodies of organ donors, this was
nothing like that. Involuntarily she
gasped, “Madre de Díos.”
Tess felt herself
shaking with both revulsion and nearly uncontrollable anger.
men who had ordered and carried this out.
They had done a piss pour job of anything.
they left this until the last minute and then had to rush through it.
butchery. They didn’t even complete the
procedure!
keep from gagging.
In that single
instant, she wished she had pumped both Barillo’s and Ajedrez’s bodies full of
lead. They deserved it for having
thought of this. And Guevera, well, he
was a dead man if someone else hadn’t already taken care of that.
who enjoyed pulling the wings off flies and the legs off spiders.
track him down and teach him the error of his ways.
had ever inflicted upon another living being.
It would be a long and painful lesson.
In that moment she
was supremely glad that she giv given her patient the nearly hallucinogenic
narcotic that was keeping his pain at bay.
Even with the drug, correcting this mess was going to cause enough pain
to make him lose consciousness. At least
his body wouldn’t go into immediate shock from the blood loss.
few days maybe, but he should stay alive.
And perhaps the greatest pain would pass by then.
“
Señor?”
face, trying to be certain that he was paying attention to what she needed to
say. Not that she could be certain. “
bit of . . . of housekeeping. I’m afraid
that Guevera left a bit of a mess behind when he was done.
as I can. If it gets to be too much, we
can take a break. Do you understand what
I’m saying?”
“The bastard did a
number on me?”
they were making their way out his mouth through a haze of pain and
befuddlement, but at least they were semi-lucid.
“Yeah, he did a
number on you. But I’m going to do my
best to keep that number as low as I can.
I’m going to start now.
Okay?” She was his jaw
clench. “Okay then,” she whispered.
started soaking up as much of the blood as she could.
***************************************
Sands was beginning
to wonder if he had really lost his eyes.
He could have sworn that he kept seeing flashes of color.
was caused by misfired neurons in his brain, but he wasn’t paying too much
attention to that. Instead, most of his
focus was set on keeping himself from screaming.
or two if he could have been sure that it would have sounded manly.
scream then it was going to come out as the girliest scream ever uttered by
masculine lips, and that after that he would start begging for the pain to
stop, for his tormentor to stop.
his hand, and the quiet, nearly incomprehensible murmurs of the woman tending
him.
No matter how
gentle she was being, though, it wasn’t enough.
It seemed as if the air itself was keeping the fiery agony blazing in
his eye sockets. On and on it went,
never letting up, never growing bad enough for his mind to simply shut down and
let him escape.
He had no idea how
long this lasted before one particularly deep touch set off an explosion of
light in his mind. His entire body
stiffened, his spine arching off the bed.
He managed to contain his screams deep in his throat, but he still heard
them in all their clarity. A muffled
voice cut through the pain and the light, “Shh.
I’ll stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry .
. .”
room. “Sorry baby, but I told you I
wasn’t interested in your scheme . . . Too small. . . .”
table, smirking at him. Some part of him
cried out that he had already killed her, but he must have been mistaken.
faint screams. Before he could shoot
again, blackness rushed up to claim him.
The last thing he heard was a weak moan.
He sincerely hoped that he had killed her.
***************************************
Tess was being as
careful as she could, but she knew that each touch, each wisp of wind stirred
by her movements was just increasing the man’s agony.
the drug? Surely it would have been
kinder to them both, but especially for him, if he had been able to pass out.
She had respected the wishes of a man near crazed with pain, and now she
was regretting it.
the first place? Regrets and guilt over
situations I can’t change or influence, yet feel responsible for anyway?
if you don’t try to make payment for the cartel’s acts, who will?
her to right all the wrongs made by one family.
A family she had never even truly been a part of.
you’re afraid that without some sort of penance, the blood of your father will
rise in your veins and you’ll find that you’re just as capable as he of doing
things like this.
I have other things to worry about right now.
Tess. One she repeated with herself
nearly every day. It didn’t always run
along those lines, but always on parallel ones.
It was enough to drive her mad, or it would be if she weren’t already.
the schizophrenia. Always there waiting
to drag you down. It wasn’t as
bad as that. True, she had been
diagnosed with the disease, but she had had one, one, episode since then. It
was extremely mild, and with regular medication it didn’t hinder her life at
all. Provide interesting voices to argue
with? Yes.
She was so focused
on keeping her touch light and her mind clear, that she didn’t notice when the
hand holding the pistol shifted to rest against her side.
was her patient’s spine nearly bowing his body off the bed, and a muffled
scream of pain. She responded instantly
by pulling her hands back and saying in a very apologetic and near desperate
voice, “Shh. I’ll stop.
revolver dig into her side, and heard Sands say, “Die bitch.”
The next thing she
knew, her side was on fire, the sound of a gunshot was ringing in her ears, and
the scent of gunpowder was filling her nose.
She stumbled back from the bed, a moan low in her throat.
that hurt! Flippin’ A!
brought it to her face. It was red.
nearby chair.
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