Page 49 of Dark Side of the Cloth

“Father O’Sullivan, I’m sorry to bother you, but we need you out at an accident. It’s not looking good, and the young man says he wants his last rites. I wouldn’t bother you at this hour if it weren’t life and death.”

Yasmine looked at the time and realized it was close to eleven.

“Yes, of course, Sheriff. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be down.” Dean released the little button and sighed. Wandering back over to where he’d left her, Dean tucked a piece of her wavy hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, but I must go.”

“I know. I should probably get going anyway.” Yasmine moved out of his hold and retrieved her coat.

“You could stay here if you like.”

“No, I think it’s best that I go. Maybe this was a sign, you know?” She nodded toward the cross on the wall. “Thank you for the lovely meal and the company.”

Giving Dean a small smile, she started to walk by him, but he grabbed her arm. Yasmine couldn’t stop herself from looking into the intense stare that she felt like drowning in.

“We’re not done with our conversation, my sweet Yasmine. You’ve made me cross a line twice now that I don’t want to come back from.”

He kissed her hard and fast, her head spinning. He marched out the door ahead of her, and she was left staring after him, her heart stuck in her throat.

The Sheriff hadn’t exaggerated. The car was mangled beyond recognition and was trapped between a transport truck and a tree. The stench of sulfur, rain, and gasoline permeated the air. The paramedics said he wouldn't have much time as soon as they pulled the young man from the wreck. Dean didn’t need any medical training to know the truth of their words.

He gripped the young man’s hand as he spoke words of comfort that needed to be heard. The man clung to the front of his raincoat, his young face too white, eyes wide with dread. It was a look not unlike the soldiers he had comforted over his time. The last man he held like this had been his best friend. He blinked as Perez’s face took the place of the young stranger.

The man was no longer in pain, the paramedics made sure of that, but the inevitable was going to happen. Dean remained quiet as the man rambled on about everything he wanted to do or could have done differently.

Guilt blanketed death in its embrace. So rare had he seen a death that was not filled with remorse. Tears and blood smattered the young face that held so much promise. Dean watched as the light dimmed even as he fought to hang on, and then he was gone. Like a switch being turned off, and he was no longer of this world. Dean didn’t know where they went, but there was no Heaven. He was sure about that.

Dean slowly stood, giving way to the arriving coroner to pronounce the young man’s death. The lightning was relentless, flashing across the darkened sky in bright sheets. More thunderous cracks had him jerking with the deafening sound.

Another flash hit, and another image of Perez’s face coated in blood, missing his body from the hips down, appeared.

No, not now.

Dean stepped away from the now lifeless body, and pain stabbed him behind his eyes.

Thump, thump, thump, the helicopter blades were loud in his ears. So many dead, so many body parts, it was a sick game of ‘Humpty Dumpty the soldier back together again.’

“Come on!” Someone yelled and grabbed him by the pack on his back. He was dragged away from Perez, his eyes never leaving his friend's face. He shook himself out of the dazed state, realty sinking back in. He turned so he could run properly, but Morry refused to let go of his pack. Her hand was clenched tight on the material. Dean pulled Morry to a halt, and before she could ask what he was doing, he bent over and picked up a hand. Dean recognized the watch as Ringo’s.

Loud whizzing sounded above, and he clutched the severed hand to his chest as the two of them jumped to take cover. A vehicle was the target this time, the metal screeching as it was ripped apart, debris flying in all directions, lodging in walls, and narrowly missing their hiding spot.

“Shit! That was close.”

He looked at Morry, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Her eyes were wide with fear. Blood poured out of the side of her face. A piece of debris that nearly took her head was lodged in the wall behind her.

“No, don’t touch it.” Dean grabbed her shaking hand. “It’s a clean-cut, lots of blood, not life-threatening.” He made sure his voice was strong and assertive. He had no idea if she’d survive, but he was damn well not going to put that in her head. “I need to keep it clean until you can get it sewn up.”

Morry nodded, and he pulled his pack off to grab what he could to wrap her jaw.

“Dean.” Morry grabbed his arm. “Don’t let me die out here,” she mumbled.

Dean stumbled away and gripped a nearby tree, hanging onto the rough bark to stay upright. More lightning rippled across the sky. The bright white light was blinding, and his head was pounding.

“Are you okay, Father?”

“Yes, I will be fine, just a headache. Thank you.”

Dean didn’t look at the sheriff. He staggered to his BMW and flopped inside. The rain that had relented for a short period now fell from the sky in torrents, blinding him to anything but the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. He yelled from the physical pain, so real as more memories ripped from his subconscious.