"Not kits- room." he gasped. He stumbled along with her, down the shadowy hall, and into a room full of machines that looked as if they were for torture. "In the cabinet behind you-" he grimaced "there is a syringe, some cloth, gauze, and needles and thread..." his vision blurred. "The syringe is filled with antibiotics- use the cloth to pull out the knife..." he trailed off, his consciousness fading as he laid back onto the operating stretcher, the cold steel of the table greeting him.