Alli had just finished shoving the last of her clothes into a suitcase, only leaving out one outfit to wear in the morning, when someone pounded on the door. It surprised her that they didn’t ring the doorbell. The wood took a horrendous beating. The sound alarmed her enough that she sprinted into the living room to unlock door, throwing it open.

“Come with me,” Rusty panted, out of breath and sweating as if she’d run a long distance. An emergency medical kit backpack had been slung over one of her shoulders. “The new doctor isn’t here and Trisha can’t be found. She and Slade went for a walk but we don’t have time to track them.”

“What happened?” Alli stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. It was obvious that someone must have been hurt if they needed a doctor.

“A fight at the men’s dorm. A male is down. Hurry.”

Panic gripped Alli as she ran after the fleeing Species female, whose legs were longer. It sank in that she hadn’t put on shoes when she reached the road, the unforgiving surface bruising. Obsidian had gone to visit the dorm. Was he the one hurt?

Oh god! She ran faster, ignoring the pain. It had to be bad for the usually serene Rusty to be so distressed. “Who?” It was tough to sprint and talk at the same time.

The Species female didn’t even glance back and seemed to ignore the question. An engine roared from behind them, grew louder, and Alli slowed, turning her head. The sight of the quickly approaching Jeep was more than welcome. Book stomped on the brakes.

“Get in.”

Alli collapsed onto the passenger seat while Rusty climbed into the back. The male punched the gas, taking off fast enough to almost cause whiplash but she wasn’t about to criticize him for his driving. It had to be a pretty grim situation, the injuries severe.

“Who is hurt?” She needed to know if it was Obsidian, obsessing on the worst.

“Destiny,” Rusty panted. “He was in a fight and he is having difficulty breathing.”

“He was punched in the throat,” Book filled in. “He might have a crushed windpipe.” His features were emotionless but his voice came out unusually gruff. “I think it was a training exercise gone wrong. Hang on.”

Alli barely had time to grab the handhold grips on the dashboard and above her by the roll bar before he took the turn really fast, nearly tossing her out of her seat. She clung, letting the details sink in. A training accident. Not Obsidian. Thank god!

Her mind shut down as she went into professional mode. Years of training came into play. She glanced back at Rusty. “Open that backpack the second we reach him. You’re looking for the light blue bag. Rip it open and flatten it out to give me access. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on,” Book warned again, locking up the brakes.

Pure adrenaline gave her the strength avoid smacking hard into the dash as the Jeep came to a violent stop in front of the dorm. Her hands hurt when she released the handholds and twisted, almost falling from the vehicle. Rusty just stood and jumped out, landing gracefully in front of her. Alli stayed hot on her ass as they ran, grabbing at one of the outside pockets of the backpack to snag a glove packet attached there.

Book stayed at their side. Someone from the building waited, the security doors held wide open to allow them faster entrance. The sight of Moon huddled over a male on the floor was the first and only thing she focused on.

She tore open the glove wrapper with her teeth as she assessed Destiny the second her knees hit the floor on the other side of Moon. His color was bad, stating his hypoxic condition, and pain hazed his eyes. Terror too. His pale, bluish lips were open, gasping in tiny amounts of oxygen, and she stared at his throat. A red mark identified where he’d been struck.

“Fuck.” She shifted, walked on her knees, to huddle over his head from a top position. It was unusually quiet, the way it got during a tragedy but Alli refused to allow this to become one. She stared deeply into her nurse’s eyes as she heard the sound of Rusty doing what she’d been told. “I’m here. Just try to remain calm, okay? You’re not going to die. I’m going to put in a breathing tube and help you.”

It was automatic to put on gloves, something she’d done countless times, not even giving it a thought. It tore her up inside to look away from him when he stared at her with absolute trust. He’d stopped struggling the second they’d made eye contact and the terrified look faded.

The kit was opened, laid out, and she went to work. “Gently tilt his head back,” she ordered Moon as she grabbed a Macintosh blade and moved up beside Destiny’s head. She inserted the large tool and pressed down on the tongue, keeping it flat. She started gently pulling back on the rigid instrument as she inserted it into his throat, opening his airway. If there was no crushing injury to halt its progress, it should do the job. “Hold real still, Destiny. I know you’ll feel like gagging but fight it. You mustn’t vomit. It’s almost there.”

She found resistance, swelling in the area where he’d been hit, and prayed as she gently wiggled the instrument. The alternative was to perform a tracheotomy. Punching a hole in his throat wasn’t her first choice, especially with him conscious enough to feel even more pain and fear. It would raise his risk of infection and complications.

The instrument slid past the affected area and she was in. She grabbed an endotracheal tube and inserted it quickly through the blade, being careful not to go too far. She didn’t want to collapse a lung. She glanced into his eyes. “Breathe.”