When the rains may come (Science Fiction)

47. The Good Doctor

The line of black cars rolled into the driveway of the emergency ward. The trauma surgeon, Dr. Raymond, was both terrified and star struck to see the party spokesperson bleeding to slow death in his angelic white suit as he got out of his car.

"I-It will be an honor to treat you, Mr. Hod–"

"We need the best doctor you have on duty!" One of the personal guards said as he helped Hodges get on the gurney.

"That would be me," Clint said, stepping ahead.

Raymond looked at him sideways. "This is an emergency case. That's my department, Dr. Chambers."

Clint kept his expression straight as the nurses were rolling the gurney up the ramp. "Have you ever treated someone in the middle of a battlefield?" he said.

Raymond was caught off guard. "N-No, I haven't."

"I have." Clint followed the nurses as they rolled Hodges into the emergency room. "And I'm also your senior. If you have a problem you can ring the director and ask him who should be carrying out this operation while the spokesperson quietly bleeds away. Or you can clean his wounds and do an assessment for me while I prepare for the surgery." He said as he stepped into the room next to the operation theater. He took off his apron and his wedding ring, sanitized his hands, slapped on a pair of gloves and a surgical cap. One of the nurses helped him into the surgical gown.

On his way to the operation theater, Eli's personal bodyguards stopped him. "You better be careful with him, doctor. If any mishap leads to hurt him, the consequences for you will be dire."

"I think I know how to do my job, sir. Now, please step aside," Clint said. "I have a job to attend to."

The guard set his jaw and made way. Clint stepped into the operation theater. The nurses closed the door behind him. The red bulb over the door lit up. Then the surgery began.

#

When Clint came out, Eli's personal guards hadn't moved from their spot near the door. Even though they all wore dark sunglasses, he wondered if they'd even blinked under those. "How is Mr. Hodges now?" one of the guards asked.

"He is out of danger," Clint said, pulling off his face mask.

"Would you elaborate further, doctor?" another guard asked.

"We took out the bullet, administered five sutures and put a cast on him," Clint said. "His shoulder sustained a fracture from the impact of the bullet."

"Would he fully recover, though?"

"He will." Clint nodded. "It will take time because of his age but he'll be fine in the next two months."

"We would like to have that bullet you recovered from his wound," the first guard said.

Clint called for one of the nurses to bring over the bullet. She brought the recovered cartridge in a metal tray. The head of the bullet was slightly dented and the rest of it was caked in dried blood.

The guard tumbled the bullet in a plastic bag and slid the bag into his coat pocket. He nodded at his partners and the doctor and left the hospital. "What's the next step for Mr. Hodges, doctor?" another guard asked.

"We are moving him into the V.I.P room for the day and monitoring his health for today," Clint said. "If everything remains normal, you can take him away tomorrow."

Once he was out of his surgical attire and back in the doctor's common room, one of the nurses came and told him that Hodges had been moved to the V.I.P room. It was then half past nine. Everything was going according to plan.