Chapter 4 - The Dead Limb
A dangerous murmur rippled through the crowd of stranded guests.
Scott stepped back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.
"He is lying to save his own skin," Scott insisted.
Georgia did not care about Scott's lies anymore.
A sudden, blinding spike of agony shot from her left ankle all the way to her hip.
She gasped, falling back against the stretcher as black spots danced in her vision.
Ruth abandoned the interrogation and rushed to Georgia's side.
The nurse pulled out a pair of trauma shears and cut away the soaked fabric of Georgia's pants.
The flesh of Georgia’s thigh was stretched taut, shining and turning a sickening shade of purple.
"Compartment syndrome," Ruth diagnosed, her voice tight with real fear.
"The internal bleeding is building pressure inside the muscle fascia."
Scott hovered nearby, trying to look like a concerned husband.
"Give her some painkillers," Scott ordered.
Ruth ignored him and looked Georgia straight in the eye.
"The pressure is crushing your arteries, Georgia."
"If I don't relieve the pressure right now, the tissue will die."
"You will lose the leg, and the toxins will stop your heart."
Georgia gritted her teeth against another wave of searing pain.
"Do it," Georgia whispered.
Ruth opened her emergency medical kit with shaking hands.
She pulled out a sterile scalpel.
"I don't have local anesthesia," Ruth warned.
"Just cut," Georgia demanded.
Ruth pressed the edge of the scalpel against the swollen purple skin.
Just as the blade pierced the flesh, the massive industrial generator in the corner sputtered.
May you like
It coughed twice, choked on a bad fuel line, and died.
The barn was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
