Do No Harm

He turned around and examined the patient. The fact that the scrub top had remained between the alkali spill and Clyde's flesh had really limited the damage. The irrigation was coming along nicely-there would be some painful blistering and a few cuts, but nothing too serious. Morphine would have helped Clyde's pain, but he'd reacted violently earlier when David had mentioned giving him a shot, and David didn't want to risk agitating him again now that he'd calmed down.

David stepped forward, again careful to avoid Clyde's eyes. Clyde's lips were moving slightly, and David realized he was counting backward from three, over and over.

"We're just spraying the alkali off you," David said. "We're trying to make the burning stop."

Clyde's lips stopped their quiet chant for a moment. "Thank you," he said.

"We have some questions for him," Yale said.

"Uncuff him and let us treat him," David said over his shoulder. "You can question him in an hour."

Jenkins grabbed David's shoulder from behind. "This guy fucked up two of your nurses-"

"A nurse and a doctor, and we don't know the patient is responsible."

"Why don't you stop worrying about him so much and let us get what we need. We brought him in here."

David stared down at Jenkins's hand until he removed it from his shoulder. He looked around for Blake, his sole ally among the cops, but he'd left the room. "That was your legal responsibility," David said. "Not a favor."

"He is not the victim here," Jenkins shouted through clenched teeth, jerking a finger violently in Clyde's direction.

"We need you out," David said. He turned to Yale. "I need him out. He's agitating the patient."

"We'll get the suspect secured, then give you a little space," Yale said.

Dalton returned with the leather restraints. He walked behind Clyde's back, circling the gurney, and Clyde grunted and whipped his head around, trying to keep him in view. Carson and the nurse and lab tech were startled back a few steps. Jenkins grabbed Clyde's legs roughly, and Clyde thrashed as Dalton undid the handcuffs. The two quickly had Clyde flat on his back, strong leather restraints binding his ankles and wrists to the metal rails of the gurney. David directed them to bind one of Clyde's hands up and the other to the railing down by his waist so if something went wrong, they could turn him on his side to minimize the risk of aspiration.

The skin on Clyde's chest was raw and shiny where it wasn't raised in blisters, but it looked as though most of the alkali had been flushed off. He was in a much better position for Carson to access the burns on his chest, and the four leather cuffs held his limbs tight enough that the others weren't afraid to work more closely on him.

"All right," David said. "That's enough. He's not going anywhere. I can take it from here."

"We'll be outside," Yale said.

"Have fun," Dalton added. He had to grip Jenkins's forearm to move him from the room.

The room hadn't been prepped for a potentially violent patient, so David removed both IV poles, sliding them out into the hall and leaving the door slightly ajar. He found some scissors near a bag of O-negative blood that had been left on the counter from the previous trauma, and slid them into his pocket. The lab tech wore a shirt and tie, having not yet changed into scrubs for the day, and David pulled him aside and whispered to him to take off his tie before going near the patient. He caught Carson's eye and gestured for him to remove his yin and yang earring.

"Stand back from the door," Clyde was muttering when David turned his attention back to him. "Stand back from the door." He kept his eyes closed, as though he were praying. His hands were puffy, perhaps swollen from the cuffs.

He repeated certain phrases like mantras, David realized. The recitations seemed to have an obsessive-compulsive element to them; maybe they were uttered for the same reason some people with OCD wash their hands forty times a day-to reduce anxiety.

David crouched so he wouldn't have to lean over Clyde in threatening fashion. "We're going to remove your gloves now-"

Clyde screamed, balling up his hands into fists behind his back.

"Okay, okay," David said. "We'll wait till later. We'll take the gloves off later. How's the pain? Is it better?"

Clyde nodded. "Still burns but it's done eating its way through me. I know. I can tell when it's done."

"Do you want some pills for the pain?"

"I told you, I don't take pills." His crying and screaming had finally stopped, though he was still breathing hard. A small wedge of Pyrex glimmered in a cut near his left armpit.

"I'm going to reach across you," David said. "And I'm going to use these forceps to remove a sliver of glass from one of your cuts."

"Okay," Clyde said.