Story code: ST-000755
Part 2: Arterial Spray and Ice
Leo snatched the vibrating phone from the stainless steel prep table, ignoring the smear of grease his fingers left on the screen. “Dad, I have to go,” he interrupted, forcing his voice to sound tight but academically focused. “My study group is calling in. Big review session for the practical.”
“At this hour?” his father demanded, the tinny audio barely cutting through the relentless pounding on the back door.
“Board exams don’t sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Leo didn’t wait for the inevitable lecture on time management. He stabbed the red icon, severing the connection, and shoved the phone deep into his apron pocket.
“Leo! Open up!” The voice from the alley was muffled by the reinforced steel, but the jagged, frantic edge to it was unmistakable. It was Dante.
Leo froze, his eyes darting down to his own white leather sneakers. A single, dark crimson droplet sat perfectly round on the toe of his left shoe. He quickly wiped it away with the edge of his apron, smearing it into a faint, rust-colored stain, and stepped into the heavy shadow of the doorframe. He slid open the rectangular metal peephole cover with a quiet metallic scrape.
Through the distorted fisheye lens, Dante’s face was warped and sweating. The neighborhood enforcer was a hulking presence, shifting his weight from foot to foot under the flickering amber glow of the alley streetlamp. His right hand was shoved deep into the pocket of a dark canvas jacket, weighing it down with the obvious shape of a heavy-caliber pistol.
Leo disengaged the primary deadbolt but kept the heavy iron security chain securely in its track. He cracked the door open exactly three inches. The night air rushed in, carrying the damp, rotting scent of the alley’s dumpsters, momentarily slicing through the suffocating cloud of burnt vinegar and capsaicin.
Dante immediately jammed the steel toe of his work boot into the gap, hitting the wooden frame with a solid thud. He leaned in, his eyes red-rimmed and darting around the sliver of the kitchen he could see. He immediately started coughing, waving a thick hand in front of his face. “Christ, doc. What the hell are you burning in there?”
“Black vinegar and Tien Tsin peppers,” Leo said, his voice flat, leaning heavily into his practiced persona of the exhausted, untouchable academic. “Deep cleaning the range. Father’s orders. The health inspector is doing rounds in the district tomorrow morning.”
Dante squinted through the acrid smoke, trying to peer past Leo’s shoulder. The harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen cast long, sharp shadows across the stacked chairs and bulk rice bags. “You seen my cousin? Manny?”
Leo kept his face perfectly still. He let a calculated look of mild annoyance wash over his features. “I’ve been in here reading about renal failure since midnight, Dante. We’re closed. The security gates have been down for hours.”
“Manny got cut,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, ragged whisper. He pressed his face closer to the gap, ignoring the burning smoke. “Two streets over. Little idiot got into it with the Eastside boys. Someone said he was headed this way, looking for the clinic.”
“The clinic is locked up,” Leo said smoothly. “And if he came here, I’d know. I have the alley cameras on the office monitor.”
“Let me in, Leo. I need to check the back rooms.” Dante pushed his weight against the door. The iron security chain groaned, pulling taut against its heavy screws.
Leo didn’t yield an inch. He planted his foot against the bottom of the door. “I can’t let you in, Dante. You know how my father is. If I let anyone from the block inside after hours, he’ll check the camera logs in the morning and I’ll be answering for it until graduation. I have chemicals everywhere. It’s a hazard.”
Dante’s jaw clenched. The mention of Leo’s father-a famously stubborn, fiercely protective fixture who had screamed at every gang leader in the district over his thirty-year tenure-made the enforcer hesitate. But the desperation in Dante’s eyes didn’t fade. “He’s bleeding out, doc. He was wearing a blue puffer coat. Sliced up near the neck. You’re a doctor. You know how fast that goes.”
Leo’s stomach tightened into a cold knot, but he forced his brain to access the clinical detachment his father had paid so much tuition to build. “If the laceration hit the carotid artery or the jugular vein, he wouldn’t have made it two streets over,” Leo said, his tone shifting into an authoritative, medical cadence. “Did you see arterial spray where it happened? Bright red blood, pumping in bursts?”
Dante blinked, temporarily disarmed by the clinical interrogation. “I… no. Just a trail. Heavy drops on the pavement.”
“Then it’s likely a venous bleed or a severe muscular laceration,” Leo lied flawlessly, using the jargon as a shield. “Dangerous, but he has more time. If he shows up here, I’ll pull him inside and patch him up. I have a trauma kit in the office. I can stabilize him before you take him to a real ER. But he isn’t here right now.”
Dante stared hard at Leo’s face, searching for a fracture in the facade. Leo held his gaze, channeling every ounce of his golden-child reputation. He was the neighborhood’s designated survivor, the one boy deemed off-limits by the local crews because he was actually going to make it out.
Slowly, Dante pulled his steel-toed boot back from the threshold. “I’m parking my SUV at the mouth of the alley. Blocking it off. If he shows, you come get me immediately. Don’t call an ambulance. You get me.”
“I’ll watch the monitors,” Leo promised.
Dante stepped back into the gloom. Leo shut the heavy steel door, throwing the deadbolt with a resounding clack. He engaged the secondary lock and leaned the back of his head against the cold metal, his breath hitching in his chest. His lungs burned from the vinegar, but the adrenaline masking the pain was beginning to wear off.
Dante was parked outside. The only exit was completely cut off.
Leo opened his eyes and looked slowly across the length of the yellow-tiled kitchen. Past the still-smoking wok, past the deep sink where the bleach had washed away the pink streaks, his gaze locked onto the heavy, industrial door of the walk-in freezer.
The mechanical hum of the cooling unit continued its steady vibration.
Then, a sharp, metallic rattle echoed through the kitchen. It wasn’t the compressor.
The heavy brass padlock hanging from the steel hasp swung abruptly to the left, striking the metal door.
Leo held his breath.
From deep inside the sub-zero darkness of the walk-in, a muffled, desperate fist slammed weakly against the inner wall. The boy in the blue puffer coat was waking up.