Unexpected Complications

-/ Country B /-

Three weeks later.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the surgical wing burned Cora’s tired eyes as she pushed through the heavy doors. She had been on her feet for six grueling hours, carefully navigating the intricate vessels around a massive brain tumor. Total exhaustion sank into her bones, accompanied by a hollow hunger. She peeled off her bloody surgical gloves and mask, tossing them into the red biohazard bin before turning down the corridor.

“You were amazing in there, Dr. Vance. The surgery was a complete success,” Nadia, her assisting nurse, called out as she followed her into the hall.

“Thanks for the backup. But I don’t consider a surgery successful until my patient actually wakes up,” Cora replied, offering a tired but genuine smile.

“Understood, Dr. Vance,” Nadia said respectfully.

“Just Cora, please. The formal title makes me feel ancient, and I’m barely twenty-one,” Cora told her, waving a hand dismissively.

Nadia chuckled. “I’ll try to remember that, Cora. Our shift actually ended two hours ago, so I’m going to head out. See you tomorrow.”

“Sure, get some rest,” Cora said, waving back as the nurse headed for the exit.

Cora retreated to her private office and headed straight for the attached bathroom to shower. The hot water washed away the physical residue of the surgery, but as she stepped out, the room suddenly spun. She slapped her bare palms flat against the cold tiled wall, shutting her eyes tight. She forced herself to take slow, measured breaths, standing perfectly still for a full minute until the violent vertigo finally passed.

The dizziness was happening far too often lately, right alongside a ravenous appetite she couldn't seem to satisfy. She mentally bumped a comprehensive checkup to the top of her priority list. Pushing away from the wall, she dressed in a fresh set of clothes, grabbed her bag, and walked down to the hospital cafeteria for food.

She ordered her usual late-night meal and sat in a secluded corner, eating in total silence. The devastating betrayal Dante had put her through had completely rewired her social instincts. She kept her circle tightly closed now. Nadia was the only colleague she actually allowed herself to befriend. Everyone else in this new city remained strictly at arm's length.

Thirty minutes later, she dumped her empty tray and walked out of the cafeteria. Checking her phone, she noted it was well past midnight. She stopped by the main lobby to sign out for the day before making the long trek across the dark campus to the parking lot.

By the time she reached her car, the dizziness had returned with a vengeance, bringing a brutal wave of nausea right behind it. She swallowed hard, blaming the sketchy cafeteria food for disagreeing with her empty stomach. Getting behind the wheel, she started the engine and drove off into the night.

Just a few blocks away from her apartment building, her stomach violently rebelled. She slammed the brakes, threw the driver’s side door open, and stumbled out just in time to empty the contents of her stomach directly onto the concrete sidewalk. She knelt there in the shadows, gagging and spitting, desperately hoping she could just hold the rest down until she made it upstairs.

Before she could even wipe her mouth, the chaotic shriek of burning rubber tore through the dead silence. A vehicle was skidding to a halt in the dark alley just up the road. Cora froze in her crouched position, staying completely out of sight.

Two deafening gunshots cracked through the air.

Pure panic spiked through her chest. Cora scrambled backward on her hands and knees, throwing herself into the cramped space of her backseat and hiding in the pitch-black darkness.

Seconds later, the roaring engines of two separate cars sped right past her parked vehicle. She waited a long moment before peeking over the window trim to ensure the street was empty.

Dreading the idea of driving and drawing attention to herself if the gunmen doubled back, she decided to abandon the car. Relying on her dark clothing to blend into the shadows, she started walking the rest of the way home.

As she approached a narrow, unlit alley merely two blocks from her building, a low, wet groan echoed out from the darkness.

She stopped in her tracks. Since the alley was completely pitch black, she couldn't make out a single thing. Pulling out her phone, she turned on the flashlight and slowly moved toward the sound to investigate.

Cora jumped back in sheer fright. A man lay completely motionless on the pavement, severely beaten and bleeding out from massive gunshot wounds. A dark pool of blood was spreading rapidly from beneath his torso.

Those men from the screeching cars had clearly dropped him here to die. Getting involved in whatever criminal underworld this was would completely destroy her quiet life. She turned her body away, fully intending to walk right out of the alley.

She took one step, then stopped, glancing back at the man barely holding onto his life.

What if he was just an innocent guy who met a terrible fate?

He’s dying right in front of you, her medical conscience argued. Make up your mind and save him before he bleeds out. You took an oath to save lives.

Cora dropped to her knees and checked his pulse. It was dangerously weak, but still there. She didn't have time to run back for her car, which meant she had to carry him.

It wasn't a completely foreign concept. She had spent years hauling Dante's dead, drunken weight off the floor and dragging him to bed. But this stranger was unconscious and incredibly heavy. With a strained grunt, she hoisted his massive frame onto her back and began dragging him out of the alley.

It took everything she had to make it to her building in the Gale Haven district. Since the night watchman was fast asleep at his desk, Cora carefully dragged the bleeding man into the elevator. When her uncle had arranged her move, he booked a massive apartment, but she had secretly rented this small, single-room unit instead to save her deposit money.

She unlocked her door and dumped the heavy stranger onto her narrow sofa, unable to offer him the actual bed.

Operating on pure adrenaline, she filled a bucket with water and strong disinfectant. Grabbing a mop, she rushed back out, furiously scrubbing away every single trace of blood from the hallway, the elevator floor, and the lobby.

Returning to her apartment, she heavily disinfected her own hands and laid out her sterilized medical tools. She grabbed a pair of trauma shears and cut his ruined shirt open. The damage was severe. He had sustained multiple gunshot wounds, including one perilously close to his heart. Cora immediately started the operation.

For two agonizing hours, she kneeled on the hard floor beside the couch. She successfully extracted the bullets, cleaned the dried blood from his skin, attached an IV drip, and injected a heavy dose of antibiotics.

The second she finished and tried to stand up from her prolonged kneeling position, the edges of her vision turned completely black. She fainted dead away onto the floor.

Six hours later, Cora groaned, her skull throbbing with a blinding migraine. Her head felt incredibly heavy due to the severe lack of sleep. Realizing she had spent the entire night passed out on the hard floor, she slowly sat up.

She stretched her stiff limbs, taking a deep breath before finally standing on her feet. She walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back to let the morning sun flood the room, then headed straight to the bathroom to wash up.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged wearing a simple gray sweater, black jeans, and white sneakers. She walked into the small kitchen and prepared a quick breakfast.

Before heading out the door, she checked on her patient. She ensured his bandages were perfectly dry and carefully replaced his depleted IV bag.

Grabbing her bag, she left for work, her body still plagued by an overwhelming sense of physical weakness and profound exhaustion.