The Scream of Tribulation

Chapter 12

-Day 9/10
(Jackie Andreaux)

"Get any med kits you can find!" I urge Bernie and La'Shawna, waking them up, while Garret tirelessly gently sets Sandy on the ground. She moans as she grabs her side, where one of her major cuts are. "Hang in there sweetheart." I comfort her, whilst rapidly rummaging though bags and crates.

"How did y'all get here? It's the middle of the goddamn night!" La'Shawna blurts at me.

"Rigged up a torch, what the hell you think?" I snap back at her, set on edge over stress, "Now find that fucking med kit!"

"Ooh wee!" She coos, her voice booming across the acoustic beach. "Something crawled up your cunt in them woods!" Followed by a sequence of tsk', she obliges, throwing bags here and there, spilling all of its holdings.

    "Found one!" Bernie stumbles over to me with the smallest medical kit Iv'e seen. "Will this do?"

    "We're not sewing up a gerbil, are we?" I shut him down without even looking in the box. I snatch it from him and sling the plastic kit open. Nothing but bandages, alcohol soaked pads, and The weakest pain pills I've ever seen. "It'll do for now. Sleep looking."

    I press myself to get to work. I snap open the first alcohol pad, such a satisfying sound. Reminds me of work back home. Unfolding the thin cloth, I rub away all the bacteria near and on the small cuts that I can see. "Take your shirt off honey, I need to get to all the cuts."

    "Excuse me?" She scoffs, appalled.

    "Honey, I'm just asking you to take your shirt off, and nothing else."

    "Please, tell me you're kidding."

    "Do you want to keep your so called 'dignity' or do you wanna die of infection honey? Your choice!" I finally burst out, running out of patience.

    She does as told and takes her thin shirt off, as if we couldn't see the shape of her body before. I worked with stubborn people like her all the time back home, she's no more different than any of my patients back in Cuba.

    No, I wasn't a doctor. The doctors I worked for made all the nurses do the hands-on work while they sat back in their offices, did "paperwork", cat call the nurses like me, and help some women with financial issues, "pay off their bills", if you catch my drift.

    I treat the wounds as if I'm just dry bathing her skin. She winces at every cut I sterilize, but I'm sure she would rather this, instead of a gradual killing infection. Though the only way for this lady to appreciate my help is if she were to have an even worse infection than she does now. I can already see some of the bigger wounds giving off a more... dead, tint. Carefully, I rip open bandage packages, and gingerly treat the wounds, making sure I peel the plastic covers off the bandages without touching the alcohol cloth or the adhesive.

    "Here's another one." Ollie hollers, waddling near me with a large red cross crate, almost as big as him.

    "Oh thank you dear, I'm sure this will be a big help." I credit Ollie. Unlatching the crate, my eyes witness days, weeks, even months of medical supplies. "This is gold!" I mumble in Cuban.

    "What was that?" Sandy asks, dumbfounded.

    "I said take two of these." I grab a bottle of fever reduction pills, and shake exactly two pills into the lid. "This will help with the fever and some pain."

    She just looks at me, like a greedy valet, silently asking for a tip. "Oh for Christ sakes." I sigh. " Someone get this girl some water!"

    "Damn, sorry I don't want a bitter taste all night! And it would be nice to have some clean water for once in six fucking days." She mouths back, afterwards, coughing up a fit.