Chapter 202 by TheOptimisticDuck
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Chapter Twelve - Not Letting Go
Hands, wrapped under your shoulders.
Shouts, echoing along the bay.
Sirens, far too late in the distance.
You groan softly, but the arms don’t stop dragging you. Then you’re hefted up onto a hard wooden surface, and a blurry face stares down at you.
‘James! James? Stay with me, stay here, eyes open, all right? Is that a bullet wound?’
You try to speak, but blood trickles out of your mouth instead.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ The face disappears, and then you gasp with pain as sudden, strong pressure is applied to the hole in your stomach. Your legs writhe involuntarily, but there’s another hand on your knees, pressing down.
‘Stay still.’ It’s not a request. Something clinks above you, and you blink, vision still blurred and black at the edges. Metal glints directly over your face.
For a moment, you think it’s a knife – you think it’s -Soo’s knife, that he’s come back, somehow, to finish the job –
But then the metal clinks again, and you realise it’s dogtags, army dogtags, swinging on a long ball chain, and the strength and steady hands of your rescuer suddenly make sense.
‘How the hell did you manage to get shot out here?’ Alan’s voice grunts, still applying steady pressure to your wound. There’s a brief respite as he lifts a hand off your leg to grab something – then your back arches as something padded is stuffed against the bullet hole. ‘For fuck’s sake, man! This isn’t a warzone! It’s meant to be paradise!’
You can’t speak, eyes streaming with the pain.
‘And where’s Emma?’ The voice sounds urgent, suddenly. ‘She okay? Where is she?’
‘Safe,’ you manage, spitting out blood. Even the effort of forcing your tongue around that word sends a nauseating spike of pain through your skull.
‘Better be.’ Is it your imagination, or are the sirens getting closer? ‘Fucking Yanks and your guns, I swear. Just stay with me. You’re not done yet.’
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Updated on Dec 18, 2019
by TheOptimisticDuck
Created on Sep 7, 2018
by TheOptimisticDuck
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