THREE
When we get back to the house and Estelle opens the door, her eyes flicker with shock at the sight of Mario drenched in blood and hanging off my shoulder.
“Get him inside! Hurry!”
I drag him into the living room and settle him down on the floor while she runs into the kitchen and grabs towels and bandages. He’s still mumbling incoherently, which means that whatever gas Naima used on him is still scrambling his brain.
As Estelle sets to work, I explain, “Naima called. She wanted to meet me. The Peace Hunters want to trade Edwin for our vials. But then stupid-ass here decided to tackle her. She shot some kind of gas at him from out of those damned gloves of hers and then sliced his ear, too.”
“It looks like he’s lost a lot of blood,” she says, dabbing at the wound with a thick gauze pad dampened with alcohol and some generic antibiotic. “He also still seems sort of out of it.”
“Yea, it’s from the gas I think ... He’ll be okay though, right?”
She shoots me an annoyed glance. “Why didn’t you come to me first?” she scolds, just as Mario lets out a scream of pain and digs his nails into my thigh. My own ears tingle at his scream, like the time I saw one of my classmates back in Nevada break his leg on the basketball court and my own leg went numb.
Estelle continues pressing the gauze against the wound. “Shhh ... there you go. You’ll be fine. Just hang in there a few more seconds.”
She braces his other cheek against her chest and pats his shoulder gently while he moans. After a few more dabs, she covers the ear with another thick piece of gauze and tapes it against his temple and jaw. But the gauze turns red immediately. The bleeding doesn’t seem to be stopping, although it’s slower.
Estelle sits back. “We need to get him to a hospital.”
“And what are we supposed to tell them?” I snap. “That some crazy lady who can time-travel cut off part of his ear?”
Estelle gives me an exasperated look.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She smiles, reaches out, and ruffles my hair. “It’s okay. This has been a tough day.”
I haul myself to my feet and start pacing the living room. “I wish Bud was here.” I can’t help bursting out. “He’d know what to do.”
“I wish so, too, sweetie. I really do...” She sighs and pats Mario again, who suddenly seems to come to. He lets out another agonized groan. “Jeanie—my aunt—she used to be a nurse! Take me home.”
“But...” I go back over and squat next to her. “The cops’ll probably be there taking reports on Edwin. If we show up there with him covered in blood, what do you think they’ll say?”
“Give me your phone,” Mario shouts. “I’ll tell them I found him!”
Estelle nods and I ask Mario for his aunt’s number so I can dial out for him. When the phone rings, I nervously toss it to him. “Here, it’s ringing.”
“Tia!” He moans, biting back the grunts and moans. “I found him. Call the police department and tell them it was a false alarm. I’ll explain when I get home. Just listen to me. Please—grunt—te quiero.” He hangs up. “Done. Now let’s go.”
Jeanie and Mario’s uncle, Ralph, are waiting on their front steps when we pull up in Mario’s Mustang. Delva, their feisty pint-sized housekeeper, is hovering right behind them.
