She heard running feet, then a thud. Luca tensed. “Stop!”
A bullet fired in their direction, and she felt Luca brace. The shot embedded in the wall to her right. He fired, and there was another thud.
“Clear!” Luca’s yell echoed through the house.
“Clear!” The yell came from upstairs, followed by “We’ve got an officer down!”
Kira let go of Luca’s belt. She spotted the man he had shot, a bullet in the center of his forehead. Lying in the hallway, jeans and a dirty white tank. Tattoos and a chain around his neck. Gang members like him came into the emergency department often, so she’d dealt with his type plenty of times.
Not men who looked the part but held down jobs and took care of their kids. This one was the kind who was angry at the world, dealt drugs, and didn’t care who he hurt.
She raced up the stairs after Luca and saw the residents of the shelter huddled in a wide room with double doors, the main bedroom, which had bunk beds all around. Between the beds, a collection of women and a few kids stood in a group, huddled together. Fear stark on their faces. She spotted Frankie, but there wasn’t time to talk to her now. That would have to wait until later.
“Is anyone else hurt?” She crouched beside the officer with blood on the left side of his chest. She did a quick assessment.
The other officer, kneeling on the other side of his friend, had sweat running down the sides of his face. “No, no one.”
“You called it in?”
He reached for his radio, but his fingers slipped. Luca crouched by him. “I’ve got it.” He squeezed the sides of the radio and called for an ambulance while she studied the patient.
“We need to put pressure on this.” She looked at the residents. “Frankie, I need a towel!”
The young woman broke off and raced out of sight.
Kira leaned down and listened to the officer’s breathing. One side, then the other. “His lung collapsed. The bullet let air in outside his lung that is crushing it.”
“Here.” Frankie shoved the towel at her.
“I need a straw.”
“What?” Frankie didn’t move.
“And a knife. Can you get me both of those?”
Luca pulled something out of his pocket and flipped it open. The blade of the knife glinted in the light.
“I need a straw. Something sturdy.” She looked at Luca. “And some tape. Duct tape, electrical tape, anything like that.”
“How about physical-therapy tape?” A young woman held out a roll of athletic tape. “Would this work?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Kira leaned down and listened to his breathing again, then she used Luca’s knife to cut the man’s shirt open. “That needs to be cleaned now.”
Luca stood in one fluid movement and headed into what looked like a bathroom. She heard him rummaging in the cupboard.
Kira pushed back the sides of the shirt to reveal his chest, the officer struggling to breathe. Air bubbles escaped the wound, red with blood from the gunshot.
He stared at her, blinking. In shock and unsure what was happening. She looked at his name badge.
“Officer Walters, I’m Dr. Kira Yassan, and I’ll be treating you today.” She smiled at him. “We’re going to stabilize you so you make it to the hospital. They can fix you up and put you back together. All right?”
He nodded, a jerky movement.
“This isn’t going to be the thing that kills you.”
The residents huddled at the door. Beyond Luca and the cop on the other side of the injured man, she saw another gunman lying dead on the floor.
These two officers had walked into an unknown situation and put their lives on the line for strangers.