Page 4 of Freedom to Love

Chapter Two

“What’s her name?” Kat Vander turned her head and opened her eyes. There was noise all around her, and she wanted to fall back to peaceful sleep. A sharp pain in her shoulder made her want to cry out, and her chest and abdomen felt as though they’d been punched with brass knuckles. A woman in blue scrubs was holding her hand and touching her face, asking her to focus. She tried to look warm, but Kat could see the deep lying seriousness.

“Vander…uh…Sergeant Vander,” someone said to her left. Kat moved her eyes to the woman gripping her other hand.

“Williams?”

Brynn Williams, who was covered in blood, nodded.

What was a Williams girl doing here?

But there was no time to think or remember, for the woman in scrubs was tapping her cheek.

“Sergeant, Sergeant, look at me.”

Kat did.

“That’s it. Focus on me, okay? My name is Harriet. I need you to try and stay awake.” Harriet was joined by others dressed similarly, and they moved like bees swarming a hive. Kat realized she was the reason why.

She watched in silence as they stripped her and searched for other wounds. They were talking, shouting, poking, and prodding. Bullets, bullets, bullets. That was all they cared about.

Blood. It was all over her. Blood, they were shouting for it. Blood, it was brought in in a clear bag and hung on a pole. They poked. Blood in to replace blood out.

She wanted to tell them her blood type, but she was too weak to think, to talk. She looked back to Williams who had released her and was backing away. She held her gaze, wanting her to stay. Something about the look in her eyes. A focus, a determination. A will and a deep compassion. She never would’ve expected to see such a look on a Williams. Was she dreaming? Had she passed out? Regardless, she needed that look, those eyes, that tender hand. But someone escorted Williams through the curtain and she vanished.

Kat felt them lift and turn her to look for an exit wound in her shoulder.

More words and shouting. She felt cold now and tired. Warmth from somewhere deep was promised to her if she closed her eyes. She did so despite the voices asking her questions and giving her demands. The warmth came, gentle, soothing. The voices faded. Darkness closed in on the image she wanted to keep in her mind. The one of Brynn Williams willing her to live.

* * *

“Kat, Kat?” Kat opened her eyes and winced in pain. Her shoulder felt like it had been knocked out of place. She moaned and tried to speak, but her throat was dry and sore.

“Here.” A cup of water was pressed into her palm. She took hearty sips through a straw and shifted. She was uncomfortable. Numerous pillows were shoved behind her shoulder, putting her at an odd angle. Had someone mangled her shoulder? Were her bones out of place?

“Move the pillows,” she managed, wincing again. “My damn shoulder hurts like hell.”

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness overtook her. Nausea beckoned but passed.

“Kat, look at me.”

Kat opened her eyes. This time she focused. Dave Murphy, a close friend and fellow cop, was sitting by her side along with his wife, Margie. Kat’s heart pounded. Something was wrong. She only ever saw Margie at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And Murph, he looked scared shitless.

“What is it?”

Margie patted her leg. Kat looked down and saw that she was covered in a baby blue blanket. Another quick look around to her sides showed that monitors were keeping track of her vitals. She again looked to Murph.

“You’ve been shot,” he said.

“Shot?” She swallowed hard. “Shot?”

A woman came in, wearing purple. She pushed buttons on a machine. “It’s not unusual for her to be confused for a short while after the anesthesia. Don’t be alarmed.” And then she was gone, breezing through a curtain.

Margie took her hand. “You’ve just come out of surgery.” Cream. Margie always reminded her of cream. Her skin was flawless and soft and shiny. Just like cream. The scent of White Diamonds permeated the air, and Margie pressed lipstick-covered lips together as she fought off tears.

“Shot?” Her slow mind tried to race, but it was moving through the sluggish marsh of what she could only guess was medication.

“In the shoulder,” Murph continued. “But you’re gonna be fine.” He offered a smile. “You lost a lot of blood, but thankfully, you got here in time.”

---