The Inventor

Chapter Seven; "Bloody murder"

You shuffled around the med hut to the seven gladers sitting on cots, all waiting, none of them patient.

"You got your hands full," Gally noted dully.

"Yep," You finished bandaging his hand, "Come in for a bandage change at dinner, got that?"

"Got it," He nodded, "Can I?"

You looked around at the noisy grumpy boys, all shouting complaints and you purse your lips, "Knock yourself out."

He grinned and took the megaphone you had made and put it here in medical, bringing it up to his mouth before shouting, "Slim it you buggin pieces of klunk or you can go fix your own problems!"

You were already taking care of the next person but no one replied to him.

"Good that?" He yelled.

"Good that," They all mumbled.

"Can I borrow this?" Gally asked, "The builders have been-"

"Go ahead," You said absentmindedly, checking a boy's temperature before saying, "You're not sick, you're fine, don't worry. What did you eat today?"

"Not much just snacking on the new cheeses Frypan let us have," The cook said.

"My best guess, you're lactose intolerant, don't eat dairy in large amounts," You said, "You're probably going to have a stomach ache, stick around here, drink water, go to the bathroom, you'll be fine within the hour."

"I like dairy though," He complained.

"My guy, if I see you in the medical hut again because you ate more dairy purposely, I will put fire ants in your pants," You told him.

He easily agreed after that and sat quietly on his cot while you ran around to everyone else.

Minho entered then, coming directly over to you while you examined a boy's broken arm.

"You have a minute?" He asked.

You looked at him, then at the boys causing a ruckus in the room, then back to him, "Do I look like I have a minute?"

He looked around too, "I guess not."

"Just, give me two minutes, wait outside, I'll be right there," You told him.

Minho nodded and did as he was told and you scurried around the room like a mad rabbit, putting a boy's arm in splints, bandaging a sprained ankle, diagnosing people with things that you could only give homemade remedies for. But they cleared out, even the boy with the stomach ache who had left for the bathroom and hadn't come back for seven minutes.

You pulled Minho inside the hut, walking over to the back bed with a jar of a questionable looking brown coffee that you drank by the dozen on days of little sleep.

You turned to him, shotgunned the remaining half, set it aside and folded your arms, "Go ahead."

He gave the empty jaw a strange look, "That doesn't look healthy."

"Most of the things I take part in can be applied to that sentence," You said, "What do you have?"

He took out five parts, showing them to you, "These are all right, right?"

You examined them, half on autopilot from lack of sleep but shrugged and said, "Looks good to me."

You waited for him to say something else because he just continued to stand there expectantly.