said. 'He's dead either way.'
'Bring him into the break room,' Needles told Beeks, ignoring Souther. 'We have to move fast.'
Beeks cradled the boy in his huge arms and followed Needles. 'What're you gonna do with him in there? ' he asked.
'I'm a doctor. What do you think I'm going to do with him?'
'What the hell you talkin' 'bout? You ain't no damn doctor.'
Souther stepped out onto the sidewalk and rolled the big steel door closed behind him.
Chapter 39
Souther walked four blocks east along the waterfront before turning two blocks north. He arrived at a small, gray, two-story building with no windows and a single royal blue entry door. Above the door was a small black sign with white lettering that read BLACK EAGLE STUDIOS. The door was secured with a hasp and heavy padlock. Souther removed a small brass key from his briefcase and unlocked the lock. Then he stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.
A pair of shiny black sedans were parked nearby. From the first car emerged four beautiful teenage girls dressed in provocative attire; from the second stepped a striking redhead in her middle twenties. She tossed her long flaming hair back from her face and checked the street. Then together the ladies followed Johnny Souther inside and closed the blue door behind them.
Avery, John
Three Days To Die
Chapter 40
The thugs slammed through the door into the cannery break room.
'Over here,' Needles said, clearing the large wooden table with one long sweep of his arm.
Beeks laid Aaron gently down on the makeshift operating table. Needles lit a gasoline lantern, placed it for optimum light, then checked the unconscious boy's pulse.
'I think he's dyin',' Beeks said.
'I'll be the one that says who's dying,' Needles said. 'Boil some water.'
'What? How much?'
'A pot full, you idiot. Don't you watch any movies?'
'More than you, motherfucker,' Beeks said. He found a pot and set some water to boil. Needles positioned two more lamps.
'Where the hell did Souther go?' Beeks asked.
'How should I know… home to Brandy Fine, I suppose.' He paused. He hadn't seen Souther's girlfriend in over a year and was curious as to why she suddenly came to mind. 'Who gives a damn, anyway?' he said at last.
'Well, excuse me for makin' conversation,' Beeks said.
Needles yanked open a cupboard and slid out a large shoebox. He spread out a clean towel, removed the lid from the shoebox, and dumped the contents. Out spilled an array of surgical equipment: scalpels, scissors, forceps, clamps, suturing materials, sponges, masks, miscellaneous bottles, bandages and hypodermic needles.
He sorted through the items. 'Did anyone ever tell you you talk too much?'
'No… maybe you, I guess,' Beeks said.
'Well, you do.'
'Fuck you.'
– Needles unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages, unzipped Aaron's jumpsuit, and tore open his sweatshirt and shirt. It was an upper-chest wound, the bullet having passed through Aaron's body just under his left collar bone. Fresh blood pooled on the wooden tabletop and dripped onto the white porcelain floor tiles.
Needles carefully rolled Aaron up onto his side then grabbed some clean paper towels and applied pressure to the wounds.
He saw Beeks's stomach lurch. 'What's the matter, Beeks?' he goaded. 'You've seen blood before.'
'I seen plenty of blood,' Beeks said. 'More than you, I'll wager.' He paused. 'Well… maybe not more than you… but I seen a lot.'
'So, what's your problem?'
'What's your problem?'
'I'm not the one with the problem.'
'Fuck you.'
– Needles got Aaron's bleeding under control and was encouraged to see that the bullet had entered and exited his body relatively cleanly, with little apparent damage to the underlying tissue. He splashed antibiotic solution over the wounds and covered them with sterile gauze.
He checked his watch. 11:30 a.m. Then he looked at Beeks impatiently. 'Well?'
Beeks looked back at him… puzzled.
'My water…?'
'Oh…' Beeks said. He checked the pot. There were small bubbles forming in the bottom. 'It's comin'.'
'Well, hurry it up.'
'How the fuck do you hurry water?'
'How should I know,' Needles said. 'Figure it out.' He scrubbed up in the sink. 'Wash up. I'm gonna need your help.'
'No way, bro,' Beeks said, raising his big hands in the air in protest. 'You know I don't know nothin' about no medical shit.'
'Do you see anyone else in this room that hasn't been shot?'
'Kiss my ass.'
– Beeks washed up, then checked his pot of boiling water. 'I think we're good here,' he said, and Needles came over and plunged his tools into the bubbling liquid.
He spread some clean towels out on the table next to Aaron then selected two surgical masks from the shoebox pile.
'Put this on,' he said, handing one to Beeks, 'and if Aaron wakes up… hold him. You got that? You hold him good!'
Beeks pulled on his mask and adjusted the undersized nose piece. It made him sound like he had a cold. 'If he does wake up I hope he don't see you first.'
'And why is that?'
''Cause you're so damn ugly… you'd probably scare the poor son-of-a-bitch to death.'
Needles had to laugh. 'Good one, friend,' he said.
He found some surgical gloves in a Ziploc bag and looked doubtfully at his assistant's enormous hands; still Beeks somehow managed to pull on a pair without ripping them to pieces.
The big black man walked over and stood next to the mutilated boy; the kid seemed so small lying there on that big table. 'I gotta bad feelin', bro,' he said.
'Let's just get on with it,' Needles said. He prepared a shot of morphine and set it aside.
'You got morphine? Shit, man… boot him up!'
'Thanks for the expert advice,' Needles said, 'but I want him to be as awake as possible — too much
