Chapter 9 #4
She just laughed, watching it all with deranged glee. Naoki was already more purple than a beet and starting to lose consciousness—we'd never make it to the hospital in time. In my desperation, I remembered a maneuver Selene had taught us in college. It was risky, but it might work.
“A pen?!” I asked, looking at the boys' desperate faces. “Any kind of tube could help.”
They exchanged glances and shook their heads, but Ethan rushed to the left corner of the clearing. A pile of mats sat there, and on top of it, he lifted something that looked like a notebook. It was the attendance sheet—the trainer had left it for us to sign.
“Here!” he shouted, running back with a pen. “Found one.”
“And a knife? Anything sharp.”
Adrian patted his pants pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. I opened the blade and checked if it was sharp enough. It wasn't a scalpel, but it would do.
“You're going to cut him?”
“It's the only way.” I opened the bottom of the pen and removed the ink cartridge.
I held the transparent tube that would be my main instrument, then felt along the front of his throat, searching for the thyroid cartilage first. Next, I moved my fingers down to the cricoid cartilage.
It wasn't hard to find—it's more circular and firm than the others.
I counted the spaces between the cartilaginous discs and located the ideal incision point, between the second and third ring.
I needed to be quick: hit the trachea, fit the pen in, and keep blood from flowing into the lungs.
Naoki was already unconscious, which was a mercy—he wouldn't feel the pain.
I took a deep breath, calmed my mind, and drove the blade into the spot, cutting through skin and tracheal wall no deeper than two centimeters.
I heard Adrian vomiting somewhere nearby as the blood flowed.
Then I pushed the tube through the hole and, like a miracle, Naoki's chest inflated.
It took half a minute for him to react before his eyes flew open, wild with panic.
I grabbed his hands to keep him from pulling out the tube.
“Easy. You're going to be fine—just breathe. Help will be here soon.”
His grip relaxed, but he kept holding my hand.
I used the gift to heal the skin around the tube and stop the bleeding.
The hemorrhage ceased, and skin sealed around the edges of the tube.
I'd created an alternative air passage since the main airway was blocked.
This way, the lungs and diaphragm would keep working normally while air entered and exited through the pen tube.
It was just a makeshift solution until Naoki could have surgery to clear the obstruction.
I sighed and let my head fall back in relief, gazing at the sun piercing through the leaves of the giant trees.
This was madness. What I'd just pulled off was the biggest medical improvisation of my life and could earn me a suspension for using my gift without a supervisor.
But worse was risking myself for someone who didn't deserve it.
The gods knew how unworthy Naoki was of my help, for more reasons than I could count on both hands.
Yet I was an elmedic, and my oath of honor didn't distinguish good people from bad.
I didn't distinguish good people from bad. Medicine was medicine, period.
I heard sounds from the forest—twigs snapping under heavy footsteps. Then the trainer arrived, running alongside the director and Aish.
“What's happening here?” the director demanded, gasping for breath from the run.
Adele stopped laughing and put on her best innocent expression.
Adrian, Ethan, and Miverik looked green, so tense they could barely breathe.
Naoki lay on the ground, covered in blood, and I had a blood-covered pocketknife in my right hand.
Everyone stared at me. But before I could open my mouth, Adele gave voice to my greatest fear:
“It was Kyller. She stabbed him.”
I shot to my feet, horrified, and threw the pocketknife to the ground.
“Liar! Everyone here saw what happened. Adele closed Naoki's airway, and I had to open it or he would have died.”
The director kept looking at the five of us while Naoki watched the scene with bulging eyes, the pen tube trembling with each breath. He needed to get to the hospital for antibiotics since the surgery had been done with contaminated material. The director approached Adrian, his son, and asked:
“What happened here?” His voice resonated like a drum—loud and powerful.
Adrian's gaze shifted to me, then to Naoki and Adele. But when he opened his mouth, Ethan and Miverik beat him to it, speaking in unison:
“It was Kyller. We saw everything.”
My eyes went so wide that for a moment I was afraid they'd pop out of my head.
“That's a lie! You've got to be kidding me!”
“Who was responsible for this, Adrian?” the director demanded. His face was red, veins bulging in his neck.
Adrian’s confused gaze swept over me, Adele, and Naoki. Then, taking a deep breath, he told his father:
“It was both of them.”