Short Story FIRST AID

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVII, Issue 23839, 14 December 1940, Page 5 (Supplement)

Short Story FIRST AID

LEAVING the hospital that night, the doctor dropped in at the ■ local division police station for his last call of the day, said hello to Sergeant Rogers on the desk, and looked at the message coming over the teletype machine. "Bo on the look-out." lie road, "for throe mon wanted for the murder of Patrolman Carr and the armed robbery of Jackson's Spa at 11.05 to-night. Two of the men probably wounded. Canvass hospitals and doctors' offices. Number One about five feet three, one hundred forty pounds, dressed in grey soft hat and grey topcoat; Number Two, five foot eight, one hundred sixty pounds, dark topcoat, dark soft lint; Number Three, heavy, broad-shouldered, six feet, about forty-five, blue serge suit, no topcoat, grey soft hat. They wore in a hip; black sedan. No registration. Warning. Use caution. All are armed." Dr. Dennison shook his head. "Tough!" he observed. "You bet" the sergeant nodded, "You "can imagine how the boys on the street feel to-night with a gang of cop killers on the loose." The doctor drove home. He put up his car and went into his office. He was alone in the house. To make sure he would have an uninterrupted sleep,

he switched oif his telephone. If there were any accident cases to-night, young Dr. Dewey could take care of them. "Stick 'em up, doc!" Ho turned around slowly. Throe men had come in trum the porch. One was holding a blue-steel automatic, ''M.\ 'em up. doc." the gunman said. 1 bore s nothing else I can do, it seems,' said the doctor, looking them over. "Come here." he said to the gunman holding his right arm. Ho walked over. The doctor peeled off his coat and ripped off his shirt sleeve while the other two looked on. Ho examined the wound. "I'll have to give him ether." he said. "No ether," the leader said. "He's pretty close to death from loss of blood now. He mav need a transfusion. If this had boon the left arm it would be too late." "What do , you mean?" the third man spoke up; He stared at the doctor. "I got shot in the left arm." "I know it. I can see that." said the doctor. "The lott arm is too close to the heart and the heart: won't stand the strain. There'", nothing I. can do for you but call an undertaker. Sorry." The third man wavered a moment'. His eyes became glazed. His jaw dropped and he fell heavily to the floor. The doctor turned hack to the other. "Do you want to die that way?" "Save me, doc!" he pleaded, and both looked toward the- loader. "0.K.," ho said. '"(Jive him the ether." The doctor pulled over his operating table, placed the patient upon it, etherised him, applied upper and lower tourniquets, cleaned the wound with alcohol, applied pad. bandage and adhesive, and when lie had completed the job looked over at the loader, now seated in an office chair watching him closely. "And now," said the doctor, walking over to him. "I m ready to attend to you. Whore are von hit ?" The man blinked quickly and looked up at the doctor. "I wasn't hit. I'm all right." "That's what you think." the doctor said grimly. "Your eves are dilated. Yoitr_ lips are bloodless." He reached for his stethoscope. "Open up your vest and shirt." _ The gangster hold the gun in his right hand, unloosened tie, vest and shirt with his loft hand. The doctor applied his stethoscope, listened. "flow long have you had that heart condition?" ho asked.

By Joseph Dinneen

"What do you mean?" The gangster looked up. "How long since you've been examined by a doctor?" "Ton or twelve years." The doctor shook his head. "There's only one thing that will help you, mister —rest and quiet. How long you live depends entirely upon' yourself. To-night's excitement may lie the straw that breaks the camel's back." He pulled over another chair. "Put your logs up there and sit back and relax." "Do you fool any numbness in your arms ami logs'' ' the doctor asked. "No." said the gangster. His brow clouded. "I've got to get out of here, and you're going to get me out. You're going to drive mo and them." nodding his head toward the lifeless forms, "u here I toll you." "Not in your condition." The doctor shook his head. "You wouldn't even make the sidewalk now—not without a good big shot of adrenalin. That would keep you going until a doctor could go over you to-morrow." "0.K." The gangster nodded "Give me a shot and then come along and take care of me." The. doctor shrugged his shoulder. "•Just as you say," he said. He reached into his hag. brought, out his hypoderm ie needle, and filled it from his cabinet. "Let's have your arm " lie said, and gave him an injection. He went again to his medicine cabinet. "I'd better tiring all the stuff I need along with mo," he said. "You'll have to take those pil's with water every two hours." He took out two, handed them to the gangster, and got a glass of water. "Take those now," he directed. The gangster did so. "Now." the doctor advised, "relax and rest for ten minutes or so and we'll carry those two out." In a few minutes the gangster's arms dropped from the arms of his chair; the gun clattered to the floor and his head fell forward. The doctor switched on his phone and called police headquarters. Sergeant Rogers answered. "Hollo, Harry," said the doctor. "Those throe men wanted for the murder of Patrolman Carr are in my office now. Number One has a clean holo j through his right arm. He's out cold under other on my operating table. Number Two has a crease that's not ! much more_ than a scratch on his leftarm. He's in a dead faint on my office floor. Number Three is sitting beside mo with enough dope in him to keep him quiet for a week. Send up the waggon with a couple of men to shovel them out. I want to get to bed."