“Not enough,” said Bingwen. He took the digital device from the pouch and approached Mazer. Everyone was crowding around the travois. The old woman’s husband was holding a lantern.
“Back up,” the old woman said. “I need space.” She bent down, pulled the lantern close, and poked around, lifting the corner of the bandage and looking at the many wounds. “This is bad. Very bad. More than I can do. I can’t help him.”
“You have to,” said Bingwen.
“Boy, you did a brave thing to bring this man back, but he is beyond help. He won’t live to see morning. He’s lost too much blood. His wounds are too many.”
“Then we’ll give him a blood transfusion. We’ll find a match among one of us and give him blood.”
The old woman laughed. “And how do you propose we do that?”
“With this,” said Bingwen, holding up the device. He turned on the screen and selected BLOOD EXAM. It asked him if he wanted instructions. Bingwen selected YES. The machine started to talk in English. It startled everyone.
“What is that?” said the old woman.
“A medical device to tell you how to treat someone.”
“That sounds like English,” said the teenage girl.
“It is,” said Bingwen. “I know English. I can walk us through the steps.” He didn’t wait for them to object. He listened to the recorded voice. It was female, calm and soothing, the kind of voice you would want to hear in a traumatic situation. The device told Bingwen to pull certain items from the med kit. Bingwen obeyed. He used the tiny tube he found to extract a drop of blood from Mazer. He put the drop on the corner of the device’s screen where it indicated.
“Type O positive,” the device said. “This blood is only compatible with types O positive and O negative.”
“What is it saying?” asked Grandfather.
“I need to prick my finger,” said Bingwen. He dug through the supplies until he found another thin straw and finger pricker.
“Test mine,” said Grandfather, offering his hand. “You’re too small to give blood.”
“You’re too weak,” said Bingwen.
“I know my strength better than you do, boy. Prick my finger.”
Bingwen wiped Grandfather’s finger with the gauze, pricked it, and tested the blood. When the results came back he said, “It’s a match.”
Grandfather nodded, pleased with himself, as if he had accomplished something. “Then let’s get a move on.”
“We need to stitch him up first and remove the shrapnel,” said the old woman. “But I think it’s a waste of time. This man isn’t going to live. You’ll lose blood for nothing, blood you have no business losing at your age.”
Grandfather frowned. “My grandson risked his life to bring this man to us. And this man risked his life to save us. We are going to save his life and you are going to help.”
The old woman’s husband stepped forward. “Watch your tongue, old man. You don’t command my wife.”
“I’m doing it because you’re not,” said Grandfather. “She’s duty-bound. She owes this man. We all do. And if Bingwen says we can save him, then we can.” He turned to the old woman. “You’ve stitched up women before. This is no different.”
“This is plenty different,” said the old woman. “The shrapnel wounds are simple enough. It’s the man’s stomach that I can’t fix. I don’t know what’s injured inside. His organs could be all cut up. It looks deep. I’m not a doctor.”
“The device will tell us,” said Bingwen, not knowing if it were true. “Let’s at least try.”
The old woman hesitated, looked into the face of her husband, then sighed. “Fine. What do we do first?”
Bingwen wasn’t sure. There was a button for help. He pushed it.
“State the problem,” said the device.
“His stomach is cut and was bleeding a lot. Maybe his organs are cut, too. We’re not sure.”
“Have you stopped the bleeding?” asked the device.
“Yes.”
“Have you washed and sanitized the wound and your hands?”
“No.”
“Let’s do that first. Do you know how?”
Bingwen knew how to wash his hands certainly, but there might be special instructions so he said, “No.”
There were special instructions. There were chemicals to use and gloves to wear and sterile gauze to unwrap. Bingwen and the woman did what they were told. They cleaned the wound and stanched the blood. They wiped down and sterilized the device as well.
“Now I need to scan the wound,” said the device.
Bingwen held the device over the wound for several seconds.
“I detect serious trauma,” said the device. “A portion of the small intestines has been severed. This requires immediate surgery. Is there a qualified doctor available who can perform a small bowel resection?”
“No,” said Bingwen.
“What’s it saying?” said the old woman.
“Let the boy listen,” said Grandfather.
“Can you transport the patient to a hospital where a qualified doctor can be found?” the device asked.
“No,” said Bingwen.
“Can you notify a doctor and have one come to you?”
“There are no doctors anywhere. We can’t move him.”