I roll over, clamping my teeth together and ignoring the pain in my arms and shoulder and my side.
She peels up my shirt, which was glued to my skin with blood, then gets to work.
“You need to hurry, Ash.”
She glances up. “I’m trying. I’m not a nurse and my hands are bound.”
There she is. The fear is gone for the moment. She’s usually calm and gives as good as she gets. She’s the only other Aussie on site and it’s nice to hear a familiar accent.
I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing. I’m so fucking thankful. I wait to feel better. Colt’s a fucking liar, because I don’t feel any different.
I’m aware of her hands on my skin as she stuffs me with gauze and then sticks the bandage over, sealing the edges. It hurts, but if it stops bleeding, I’ll be happy.
“Roll onto your other side.” She gives me a push.
It’s nice to roll off my arms.
“It came out the side. So it’s mostly at the front.”
I nod. “How big is the hole and how much is flowing out?”
“Not a gush.”
If it was a gush, I’d be unconscious or dead.
“A little trickle?”
It could be worse inside, but I don’t feel faint. So maybe it’s not as serious as it seems. Blood makes a mess and when it’s my own, it’s always more of a concern than if it’s someone else’s. She presses on the bandage.
I can’t see her, but the plastic rustles. “Put the unused things back in my thigh pocket and put the rubbish in the lower one.” I don’t miss my chance as she puts her hand in my pocket this time. “I little higher, please. It’s not that long.”
Her hands pause.
I turn my head so I can see her. “I had to say something.”
“Thank you?”
I roll my eyes. She sounds like Colt. “Check my right boot for a knife, but don’t pull it out if it’s there.”
“Inside?”
“Yeah, you’ll need to stick your fingers right in.” It’s small, which is why I’m hoping it was missed when they searched me for weapons. They took the obvious one strapped to my left ankle.
“There’s something small and hard in there.”
“No one has ever said that to me before.”
“Seriously?”
I lift my eyebrows. “I’ve been shot. I’m not dead.”
Yet.
Ashley sucks in a breath, and I realize that was the wrong thing to say. She’s not ex-military and death hasn’t followed her around, snatching away friends and colleagues, or helped me end the lives of others. Every soldier knows they are getting into bed with death. Most of us hope that we’re using enough protection that we can walk away with only a few scratches.
I fucked up.
“So what now? Are we going to break out?”
