“You were shot.”
“I was shot? Well, that can’t be right.”
Each step shoots fire down my leg and boils my stomach. We approach an embankment near a stone footbridge where accumulated snow, protected from the sun by a canopy of trees, piles up about a foot or two. Taylor shuffles me down until we are beneath the bridge, hidden among the snow and mud. I lie flat on my back, and try to will my breath to be lighter as the stomp of boots grows closer. Taylor shucks off her bag beside us and flattens herself on top of me. Her left hand covers my mouth, the other presses against my wound.
“Stay quiet.”
This is the second time within twenty-four hours she’s been on top of me, and, even though I’ve been shot, this time sucks less.
“I know it hurts, but stay quiet, okay?” Her voice is low. Calming, even. “Nod if you understand.” I nod, and she lifts her hand off my mouth, cradling my cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch. She pulls back to examine my face and then dips to speak directly to my ear. “Breathe. Deep breaths in through your nose, out through your mouth. You will be fine, I promise. I’ve got you.”
“Okay.”
“I am going to treat your wound. It will not be very painful, but I need you to focus. Don’t worry about the guards. I will keep you safe.” Her voice breaks when she adds, “I will always keep you safe.”
“I know. I trust you.”
Taylor rummages in her bag with one hand, the other still trying to stem the flow of blood from my hip. The soldiers have passed by, leaving us in the deadly quiet of the woods. Taylor removes an object that looks like a thick syringe from within the bag and places it to the side, using both hands to unbuckle my pants.
I lift my eyebrows. Pain will not hold me back from sass. “If this is your idea of a date, it is not going very well.”
Taylor shakes her head, looking both extremely frustrated and adorably embarrassed. “You are impossible. Be quiet.”
“If I had known, I would’ve worn something easier to take off.”
“Lucy,” she growls. “Please. I am trying to concentrate.”
“Right, sorry. Distraction, I remember.”
Astride my legs, she shimmies my pants down enough to reveal my wound. I don’t look at it. “This will inject foam into the wound, absorb the blood, and temporarily stop the bleeding. It will also release a dose of pain reliever. Fortunately, you are not bleeding as much as I thought.” Despite that statement, her entire right hand is covered in my blood. “Take a deep breath.” I suck in a deep breath and a painful pressure invades my hip. “Almost done. You’re doing great. Okay, let me get pressure on this and we will get you to the hospital.”
“No, no hospital.”
Carefully, Taylor wraps my wound with a bandage tight enough it feels like a hand gripping my hip. She rubs the adhesive in place. “This is only enough to get you ambulatory. We need help.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“This is not a negotiation, Luciana,” she snaps. When my bleary eyes focus on her, a real undercurrent of anguish floats beneath her stern glare. She stands, a pistol in her bloodied hand, and peers into the trees. “I think we lost them. The nearest hospital is about five miles from here. Too far to walk. Those soldiers must’ve arrived by vehicle—they got here fast. They probably left them back near the road.” She gazes down at me, and then crouches in the snow. “I am going to retrieve one of their snowmobiles and bring it to you. You stay here. Don’t moveuntil you hear my voice.” Taylor slaps her pistol into my hand. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”
“Wait,” I call, and Taylor stops on a dime. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please.”
I’m sure I make a pathetic picture, covered in blood and snow and mud, tears tracking down my face. Taylor pauses, then hangs her head. She silently acquiesces and plops down into the snow next to me, then flips open her watch. “Okay.”
But it’s not okay.
“Eos to NWHQ.”
The watch crackles. “NWHQ here. What do you need?”
“I have a soldier down. Nonfatal bullet wound to the torso. Need an evac to the nearest medical center.”
That’s me. I’m Nonfatal Bullet Wound To The Torso, nice to meet you.
“Is the soldier stable?”
Physically? No. Mentally? No. Emotionally? Also no. But Taylor says, “Yes.”
“Current protocol states only soldiers in critical condition can request evacuation. If your soldier is stable, there is a clinic three miles northeast of your position.”
