Baz steps in front of me, swaying a bit on his feet. He takes a deep breath and pulls it together, then takes my hand. I drop the rifle to my side and prepare to run.
“Ready?”
“Always.” I nod, and we take off into the woods.
We run until the two-door truck comes into view. And just as I sigh with relief, bullets ricochet off the trees. Shit, another one.
Once we reach the truck, I let go of Baz’s hand, but instead of jumping into the cab, I scale into the bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Baz snaps.
“Just drive!” I bark, opening fire in the direction of the gunshots.
“Fuck!” Baz climbs into the driver’s seat, and the Sienna turns over. A bullet sparks off the metal next to me, and I go down.
“Stevie!” Baz bellows as he peels out all over the soft earth. I stick my thumb up.
The gunshots quiet in the distance as we escape, pulling onto a paved road less than ten minutes traveling through the woods. I lie in the bed a while longer just to make sure there aren’t any more surprises waiting for us.
Luckily, there aren’t.
When the coast is clear, I crawl through the rear window and settle in the front seat. I look over at Baz, who is fading fast.
Flimsy fucking bubble, I grumble.
“Fuck, that stings,” Baz hisses as I apply some alcohol to his wound.
“I know.” Straddled over Baz’s lap, I pat around the hole with some gauze, cleaning off the blood. I press a square bandage over the bludgeoned skin and secure it with tape. We randomly turned off Route 812 S and followed the signs for fuel until we finally found a gas station with a halfway decent store.
Baz was smart, stashing an extra set of keys and some cash in the truck just in case. It helped save our asses today.
Medical supplies were in thin supply, but I was able to purchase the necessities. Including a clean T-shirt for Baz that reads Empire State College.
All I keep picturing are all the ways I’m going to torture and kill Regina once I get my hands on her. I think I’ll torch her closet first and make her watch all her stupid vintage Valentinos turn to ash.
“You look very serious right now,” Baz comments as I apply the last strip of tape.
“How am I supposed to look?” I glare at him as I begin to salivate for blood. “We were just fucking ambushed. Now we’re hiding out behind a ghetto-ass gas station while I clean out your bullet wound. I’m going to kill Regina.”
“I believe it. You’re nasty with an AK. What other talents are you hiding from me?” He tries to tickle me, but I push his hand away.
“Are you seriously trying to be cute right now?” I’m pissed. I’m so pissed, and mad, and fuckin’ shaken up. Watching Baz fall to the ground like that? For a split second, I thought he was dead, and I was overcome with incomprehensible loss for the first time in my life. Not even Benny’s death lanced me with the kind of pain I felt fearing Baz was gone. That’s an eye-opening realization. A life-changing experience.
“I almost fucking lost you.” I clutch his face. “And I was helpless.”
“You weren’t helpless, Stevie. You fired back ten seconds later.”
“If that asshole hadn’t missed, those ten seconds would have been too late.”
“He did miss. And it wasn’t too late.”
“We should have been more careful.” I slide off his lap and back into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel as I start to shut down. Maybe Benny was right. Maybe happiness is a farce because it’s something you can’t hold onto. It slips through your fingers like sand, providing just an illusion and a tease of what you can’t permanently have.
“Stevie,” Baz whispers my name. I can hear the concern, but I tune it out.
“We have to figure out our next move. We can’t stay in the truck forever. You need a doctor, and we only have a limited amount of cash, and they’ll keep—”
“Hey.” Baz grabs my wrist, but I can’t look at him. I don’t want to burst into tears. I’m suffering from a bout of PTSD for sure. “We can go to Gianni’s.”
