Page 104 of Bloom: Part 1

Each time they asked for a brief about the man lying unresponsive on the operating table, I fibbed, but how long could I fake it? He’d gone into cardiac arrest again, and we’d barely managed to “save” him. At least our captor seemed to be grateful for our efforts and sent for food for us. When we went to the bathroom, someone escorted us, but for the most part, we were left alone with Two Fingers, who seemed to be in charge.

I loathed sleeping in the same room as someone so despicable, but because of Bloom’s restlessness the night before and the stressful situation, I nodded off while I sat on the floor. Theothers had already taken terms napping. I kept jerking my head up, trying to stay awake. Bloom seemed to be sleeping already, with his knees tucked up to his chest. I couldn’t sleep. I had to watch over him, ensure those assholes didn’t touch him.

In the middle of the night, a boot kicked my foot. My eyes flew open. Two Fingers crouched over me, his face white. “Something’s wrong. Get your ass over there and help.”

What else could I do? I’d known this was coming. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the table. We didn’t have enough people in the OR assisting, but I refused to request assistance. Not when they would only walk into a hostage situation.

The chaotic rhythm on the ECG monitor confirmed the worst—ventricular fibrillation. We worked with an efficiency that was fueled by the knowledge that if we fucked up, we were dead. But that pressure couldn’t fix the low cardiac output signs, the low blood pressure, and pulse irregularities. Despite putting in everything that we could into saving the patient, I had to call his time of death, knowing what it meant for us. There was only so long we could carry out the resuscitation protocols.

“No, don’t stop!” Two Fingers cried out. “You keep going until you revive him.”

“It’s too late. He’s dead.”

A gunshot rang out as Two Fingers shot Manny in the chest. The anesthesiologist fell to the ground, body convulsing. “Maybe you’ll take me more seriously right now. Resuscitate him!”

I needed to save my coworker. The man on the table was dead, but there was still a chance for Manny. The two nurses huddled into each other, sobbing.

“He’s dead. Let me save Manny, please—”

He swung the gun around to the two nurses. “I’ll try again. If he dies, don’t think any of you will get out of here alive. This man is the blood of our organization. Now fucking save him.”

I returned to carry out CPR on a dead man while Manny took his last breath.

The flat line echoed around the room as I mechanically performed chest compressions. A cold shudder ran through me.

Our time’s up. I can’t revive him.

I flicked my gaze to Bloom, and my heart faltered. He had unplugged a power cord attached to one of the monitors. Two Fingers was so agitated, his whole attention on the man on the table, he hadn’t noticed.

Oh god, please don’t let him get hurt.

Two Fingers stood with his back partially turned to Bloom. In one fluid motion, Bloom wrapped the cord around his hands to form a makeshift garrote. He approached like a tiger stalking his prey while Two Fingers urged me to keep resuscitating the dead man.

I have to help him.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone. There’s no use doing this anymore.”

Two Fingers’s face turned purple as he raised his arm. Bloom sprang, looped the cord around his neck from behind, and pulled tight. He gasped, clawing at the cord, but Bloom was relentless, even when a fist clocked him across the jaw. Bloom wrapped his legs around the man’s waist. The gun went off. Two Fingers stumbled back into the wall, slamming Bloom against the hard surface. My little demon still hung on for dear life. How could I let him fight alone?

I grabbed a scalpel, rushed forward, and did the one thing I’d taken an oath not to do. I drove the scalpel deep into his neck, right where his carotid artery lay. Bile rushed into my throat as he choked on his blood. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor, the gun clattering to the floor.

Unfazed by what had just happened, Bloom climbed to his feet, scooped the gun up, checked the clip, and searched the man’s pocket for extra ammunition. His eyes were hard,purposeful, the softness I’d experienced as he lay in my arms, gone.

This was the killer I always knew existed.

I swallowed hard, my hand numb from clutching the bloody scalpel. My breaths came in gasps, each intake of air echoing loudly in the deathly silent room.

“B-Bloom,” I stammered, “are you… are you all right?”

He barely gave a nod. “They’ll have heard the gunshots. More than likely others will come. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what about the nurses…” But the place where they had stood when pandemonium struck was empty. They must have run out when Bloom struck.

“Logan, let’s get moving now. Stay behind me.”

“Two Fingers, we heard—” A man stood in the doorway, staring in shock at us.

Bloom blew a hole in his face that made my stomach curdle.

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