Changing the Future

Chapter 39

Finding Cleo hadn't been a challenge. She was in the infirmary, taking her anger out on one of those realistic, anatomically correct bodies, cracking its ribs with a rib spreader. Some of the other campers that were stuck in beds looked like they wanted to throw up at the sound of ribs cracking. But it was just a model, so the most harm Cleo was doing was bending plastic.

Luke had been next to Cleo, appearing kind of green himself. He had a hand pressed to his sternum, like he was making sure that it wasn't him on the infirmary bed rather than a fake cadaver.

"Is that what happened when you operated on me?" Luke asked, tracing the scar that ran the length of his sternum through his shirt.

"Not exactly." I then told Luke the watered down version of how we basically removed most of his ribcage, which only made it sound worse than it actually was.

"Oh, gods," Luke groaned, clutching his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not in here!" Cleo scolded, looking up once the rib spreaders were as wide as they could go. "I just mopped!"

I handed Luke a barf bag, which he gratefully accepted before rushing off towards the front door. He could deal with burns, cuts, and poison, but surgery scared him? I guess that's normal; but who was I to say what's normal?

"Welcome back from the Land of the Dead," Cleo said, making sure to roll her eyes at me before picking up a scalpel and delicately dragging it across the dummy's lung.

"Aren't you supposed to heal those hurt?" I asked, wincing as fake blood started oozing from the punctured lung.

"I am." She set the scalpel down and picked up a suture kit. "But this is a good way to practice without having to use real cadavers or people."

"Did she say she's going to cut into us?" one of the campers shouted.

"Oh, Hades no! I won't become some med-toy today!"

"Calm yourselves," Will snapped at the three campers. "We practice on fake cadavers, not real people. It's how we train."

"Weirdos," the third one muttered.

"I wouldn't call them that," I said, stepping out from behind the gray curtain that separated where Cleo was from the rest of the infirmary beds. "When you're bleeding out, they're the ones making sure you live to see the next sunrise. Watch what you say about the children of Apollo."

"Exactly!" Will said, nodding enthusiastically. It was kind of dark, actually, to think that an eleven-year-old had more training in saving lives than first year med students, who were usually around twenty-eight-years-old, but such is the life of a demigod.

And that was the end of that argument, allowing for Will to finish filling out charts while Cleo worked in silence.

Cleo would stick out her tongue in concentration as she passed the suture in and out of the laceration, not even fazed when a squirt of blood got her right in the neck. "Oops," she said, gently prodding the lung with her finger. "Looks like the heart got cut, too."

Seeing that I'd been trained in this type of thing by Apollo, I gave Cleo tips whenever she got stuck, which she greatly appreciated. It was nice doing this. It was almost like a normal day at camp. If only it wasn't for the fact that Cleo was going to die within the next few weeks, I'd feel more comfortable about the sheer normalcy of it all.

Luke, who had only recently come back from wherever he'd gone off to, immediately fainted at the sight of Cleo cutting into the dummy's sternum with a bone saw. I managed to catch him before he landed on the floor, Cleo, Will, and I all laughing as I did so.