by N. C. Reed
And his lungs were sure to pop any minute. Just burst open, and not work anymore. They now burned as much as his legs did, and his breathing was labored.
On top of that, this couldn’t be doing James any good. Jesse could feel something sticky seeping into his shirt along the shoulder, and knew that his field dressing had either come undone, or was soaked through. But there was no way he could stop to check it. If he did, he’d never find the strength to get James back on his shoulder. Or even get himself off the ground.
Despair was slowly creeping into him now. He wasn’t going to make it in time. All of this would be for nothing. A young, promising life, wasted. Jesse thought about what James had said. He had known he was going to die and he was okay with it. No one his age should ever have to think like that.
Jesse hated the world he lived in because of it. Because there were people who would shoot children as easily as they would a dog. Because there were people who would imprison innocents for their own amusement.
Because he couldn’t kill them all.
He didn’t realize how long he’d been thinking about that when he noticed he was out of the brush, and had been for at least a full minute. There in front of him, such a beautiful sight, was a battle scared, ugly-ass OD Humvee. Jesse’s anger had fueled his final burst of energy, and there he was.
By the time he reached the vehicle that energy was gone. Opening the passenger door, Jesse managed to lever James into the seat without banging him around too much. He checked the wound, and saw that the bandage had indeed slipped. He put it back in place, and retied it as tightly as he dared, then checked James’ pulse.
Nothing.
Panicked, Jesse felt frantically for anything. Finally, at the edge of desperation, he felt it. Weak, a bit unsteady, but still there.
Strapping him in, Jesse tossed their gear into the back, except for his rifle. He turned away to close the door only to see the Lab sitting on the ground, watching him.
“You're going you better get in,” Jesse ordered, pointing to the open back door. In a flash the dog was inside, sitting behind James. Jesse slammed the door and climbed wearily into the driver’s seat. As he threw the Hummer into gear, he reached for the radio. One thing was certain.
James was going to need medical help sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Jesse to Base, anyone listening?”
Roland almost leaped at the radio.
“This is Roland, Jess. What’s the story?”
“I’ve got James, but he’s bad off, Ro’,” Jesse’s voice was strained. “He took one in the leg sometime this morning, maybe, and he’s lost a lot of blood. Angie needs to be ready the minute we roll in, and I. . .I’ll need help standing by to get him out.”
“You okay, Jesse?” Roland asked, suddenly worried.
“I’m just wore out, brother,” Jesse replied. “I don’t know how far I carried him, and I’m about done.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“There’s a nurse in that bunch that James rescued. If they’re there, might have her be ready to help, too.”
“They’ll be here any minute,” Roland assured him. “I’ll get on it right now. Also, I’ll contact Tom, see if there’s a doctor around.”
“That might be a good idea,” Jesse agreed. “I’ll be there as fast as this thing will travel.”
“Blow it up if you have to,” Roland told him. “I’ll steal another one.”
-
“Tango One, you up?” Angie took the call.
“Tango One,” she replied.
“Expedite,” Roland’s voice was tense. “Jesse is on his way in with James. Kid took a round to the leg and lost a lot of blood. We’ll need you here when he arrives.”
“Roger that,” Angie replied, already going over in her mind what she might need. “You know his blood type?”
“Negative,” Roland replied.
“Ask around for O-Negative blood type,” she ordered. “Have Maria boil water for me, and make sure the clinic room is cleared for action. We’re. . .” she looked at Mack, who flashed five fingers twice, “ten minutes out.”
“Roger that. Jesse says there’s a nurse in the group you’re transporting. Any idea if she’s in any shape to help?”
“Negative, but we’ll check,” Angie promised.
“Base clear,” Roland called.
“Tango One, clear,” Angie replied. She looked at Mack.
“Fast as we can safely go,” she ordered. “I need to be there ahead of him, if possible.”
“You got it.”
-
“What’s wrong, Roland?” Maria asked as soon as she saw the look on his face.
“James is hurt, pretty bad,” he told her. “Jesse's bringing him in right now, and Angie is on her way, and there might be a nurse in the group James found that can help. Angie needs you to get some water boiling, I guess for sterilizing stuff. I need to get her clinic room ready. Oh, and get one of the others to see if anyone’s got O-Negative blood and are willing to donate. Mine’s O-Positive, or...”
“I understand,” Maria interrupted him. “You care for him deeply. And I do as well,” she admitted. “He no longer seems. . .creepy,” she smiled slightly. “He is a good man, and he has had a good teacher.”
“Thanks,” Roland murmured. “Well, let’s get to it. We don’t have much time.”
-
Roland checked the clinic and found it squared away. Angie was very meticulous about it, anyway. With that done, he ran back to the radio room and called Tom Wilson.
“What’s up, Roland?” Tom answered right away, thankfully.
“We’ve got a gunshot wound on the way in, Tom,” Roland replied. “Is there a doctor anywhere close by that we might get to come see us? I mean, we’ll provide transport and all, but one of my boys is hurt bad.”
“Doctor Kingston is still around somewhere in town, last I saw her,” Tom came back. “I’m in town now, so I’ll see if I can round her up. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help, if I can find her. I’ll bring her out myself, since it sounds like we need to talk.”
“Sooner would be helpful,” Roland told him. “Tell her I’ll do whatever I can for her, in return.”
“I’ll get back to you,” the Sheriff promised. Roland sat back for a second, sighing. He’d done all he could...
He shot up as he heard the sound of the deuce-and-a-half returning. They would need to see to the people that the truck was bringing, and find that nurse.
-
“Who’s the nurse?” Angie demanded as she and Mack helped the people in back unload.
“I am,” Melissa said. “Why?”
“Come with me, please, if you can,” Angie said in way of reply. “We’re expecting a wounded man, soon. I’m a combat para, but a real nurse would be a great help.”
“Is…is it James?” Melissa asked, hurrying after the female soldier.
“I forgot you’d know him, wouldn’t you,” Angie sighed. “I’m sorry. Yes, it is James. He took a round to the leg, and has lost a lot of blood. We’re asking for O-Negative donors, since we don’t know his blood type.”
“I’m O Negative!” Tom Mackey shouted from behind them.
“You’re too...” Mack started.
“I’m as healthy as a horse!” Tom shouted him down. “And I owe that kid my life, just like everyone else here.” With that he took off following the two women.
“Mack, get them inside since we’ve had a change of plans,” Roland ordered. “We’ll get them something to eat, and let them get cleaned up. I think we can round up some clothes for ‘em, even if it’s just BDUs for now. We’ll try and do better for them later on, if we can.”
“I need someone to check my feet,” an older woman informed him.
“What’s wrong with them?” Roland asked before Mack could intervene.
“They’re sore, that’s what!” Shirley Pippins exclaimed. “I need something for them.”
“You’ll b
e fine with some rest, I’m sure,” Roland managed to reply politely. “Meantime, our medical person is prepping to treat someone, so they can check you over once they have time.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping us?” Shirley demanded.
“What do you mean?” Roland asked, trying valiantly to keep his temper.
“You’re from the government, right?” she almost snarled. “Well, I’m a taxpayer!”
“When’s the last time you paid any taxes?” Roland snarled back, furious. “And no, we ain’t from the government. We’re helping you outta the goodness of our hearts, which you are straining at the moment. Now shut up and do as you’re told, or start walking outta here on your tired, sore feet. We’ve got a man incoming who’s been shot. Same one that helped you out, in fact. And your feet can rot off as far as I’m concerned, until that boy is out of danger.” He leaned in closer.
“I’m off my meds, lady,” he whispered. “You really don’t want to push me. Understand?”
For once, Shirley Pippin thought before she opened her mouth. The look in Roland’s eyes was murderous to say the very least. It slowly began to dawn on her that this man might just rather kill her than put up with her crap.
“I understand,” she replied softly. “I’m sorry about the boy. I hope he’s all right.”
“So do I,” Roland sighed, easing out of his mad spell. “Now, we can get you some hot food, and then you can get a shower and some fresh clothes. Food’s plain, but it’s hot, and filling. Any of you need medical attention, I promise you’ll get it as soon as we can.” He looked at Mack.
“Find Deena, and you two can handle this.” Mack nodded, and waved for the group to follow him. Roland stayed outside, waiting on Jesse. He didn’t have long to wait. No sooner had the group entered the building than Roland heard the Humvee coming up the road, engine wound tight.
As he watched, Jesse came roaring around the corner, maybe a quarter mile down the road, almost on two wheels. The Humvee went into a slide as Jesse applied just enough brake to be able to turn into the school without tipping over and then slid to a stop just outside the front door, less than five feet from where Roland stood.
Roland had the passenger door open before Jesse could shut off the engine. James was pale, sweaty, and for a second Roland couldn’t tell he was breathing. James took a ragged breath, finally, and Roland felt relief flood through him. James was still alive, for now.
Reaching into the vehicle, Roland hoisted the boy into his arms, careful of the wounded leg. James actually regained consciousness for a few seconds. He looked up at Roland and grinned.
“Hey, Roland!” he smiled. “Whaz happeninin?” he slurred.
“Morphine,” Jesse told him, crawling out of the Humvee and almost falling with the effort.
Roland nodded, and then ran for the door. He nodded to whoever was holding it open, not bothering to see who, and shot down the hallway to the room Angie Martens used as a clinic. She and Melissa were waiting.
“On the table!” Angie ordered. Roland complied.
“Out!” Angie ordered. “I’ll call if we need anything. Melissa is Tom ready to go?”
“Yes,” the nurse replied.
“Let’s get started then. Prep James’ arm, and start giving him blood, while I see to the wound. We have to get him stabilized as soon as possible. Why are you still here?” she demanded, and Roland realized with a start that the question was aimed at him.
“Sheriff said there was a doctor still in town,” he told the paramedic. “He’s looking for her, and if he finds her, will bring her out.”
“Good. Now wait outside,” Angie ordered. “We’ve got to have room to work. Stay close, or have someone else do it. And find out if there are any other possible donors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Roland didn't think of arguing and departed.
“Oh, James,” Melissa said softly, inserting the needle for the transfusion. “Why didn’t you just stay with us?”
“No time for that now!” Angie insisted, already working on the wound. “Keep your head in the game, and worry about those things later. When he can answer you.”
Melissa nodded, and turned to Tom Mackey.
“Ready?”
“You bet.”
-
Roland figured Sheriff Wilson had come close to destroying the engine in his police car as he came sliding into the lot fifteen minutes later, a very scared dark-skinned woman in the passenger seat.
“You idiot!” she shouted, desperately grabbing anything she could to remain upright. “I have to be alive to help him!”
“Sorry,” Wilson muttered. “Anyway, we’re here.”
“Thanks be to God for that,” the woman shot back, getting out. “Where is he?” she demanded of Roland.
“This way,” he replied, leading her inside. When they arrived, Angelina was already debriding the wound, irrigating it with saline.
“What do we have?” Kingston demanded. “I’m Jennifer Kingston, by the way,” she added.
“Angie Martens,” the paramedic replied. “GSW to the lower right extremity, outside thigh area. No apparent bone damage, clean exit wound, primary problem at this point is loss of blood. Patient has received one pint of O-Neg blood, and we’re prepping another donor.”
“How long since his wound?” Kingston asked, looking.
“Unknown, but probably before noon,” Angie replied. “He was alone, covering a group of people rescued from a biker gang.”
“I see,” Kingston hummed. “I see no major blood vessel damage. I assume no sign of any arterial bleed, considering the timing.”
“None,” Angie confirmed. “We’re giving him fluids in addition to the blood, and I’ve started an IV drip of Levaquin at three per. I was completing the debride when you entered.”
“Good work,” Kingston remarked. “All right, let’s take a look at the wound. Continue the fluids for now, and the antibiotic was an excellent call, especially considering the time passed and the condition of his skin and clothes. Do we have any more donors lined up?”
“Two more, Doctor,” Melissa replied.
“Hello, Melissa,” Kingston smiled briefly. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
“I’m one of the people he saved,” the nurse nodded. “I’m sure I don’t look like I normally do,” she added dryly.
“None of us do, lately,” Kingston nodded, working on James’ leg. “All right, not knowing how much blood he’s lost, we’ll have to proceed carefully. I wish we knew his type, but I don’t have the equipment with me to check it.” She looked at Roland.
“I don’t suppose you know, do you?”
“No, ma’am, I don’t,” Roland admitted. “For any of the kids, for that matter,” he added. “They aren’t here at the moment.”
“I see,” Kingston hummed again. “All right, ladies, let’s be about it then. You can go now,” she added, and Roland realized this was for him.
“I’ll be right outside.”
He stepped out into the hallway, almost tripping over something. Looking down, he saw a chocolate Lab sitting by the door, looking into the room.
“Where the hell did this dog come from?”
-
“So, how did all this come about?” Wilson asked as he and Roland sat in the mess.
“Well, I decided to be pro-active and see if I couldn’t cut this bunch off at the knees,” Roland admitted. “I had another, more private chat with that Turner woman, after you left. She let go of where they were, so me and James set out to kinda get a look at ‘em.”
“Where is Turner?” Wilson asked.
“She ran off,” Roland said flatly. Wilson looked at him for a minute, then nodded.
“They’ll do that,” he said finally. “Anyway.”
“Anyway,” Roland got back to his story. “When we got there, we realized they were holding several people prisoners. That kinda threw a monkey wrench into our plans and we had to improvise a bit. James hid out and waited while I sprun
g the ambush on the bikers. They were loaded for bear, too. Likely headed here, or maybe up toward Turnbow’s folks.”
“I got several of ‘em, but not like I should have. I set the mines wrong, not realizing...”
“Mines?” Wilson blurted.
“Claymores,” Roland nodded. “Anyway, I had them set up to catch a bunch o’ bikers. You know, on bikes. Well they had bikes, but they also had three vans full o’ people and hardware. The mines took out all but one of the vans, but the other two absorbed a lot of the firepower. I think I wrecked more bikes than bikers, to be honest.”
“So I shot a few of ‘em, let ‘em see me, then took off into the bush. A bunch of ‘em chased me, using dogs to keep to my trail. I left a few dirty tricks for ‘em and stung ‘em a bit, but they kept coming.”
“Finally I laid an ambush, and I think I got one of their trackers. Whatever happened, they left off trailing me and I guess went back to their camp.”
“I can only assume what James did, since I haven’t talked to him. For that matter, I haven’t had time to talk to the people he rescued. Guess you might want to do that.”
“I will,” Tom nodded. “Well, it sounds like you stirred up a hornet’s nest, Roland. Any idea how many are left?”
“No idea at this point,” Roland shook his head. “Our count had to be off, I think. Just seems like there were too many of them compared to what we expected. For all I know, some of ‘em weren’t even there.”
“You know you’ve made sure that you’ll be the next target, don’t you?” Tom asked quietly.
“We were the next target anyway,” Roland shrugged. “At least now, there’s less of them.”
-
BD watched as the rest of his crew motored into their compound. His chief lieutenant dismounted, walking up to his boss.
“I notice Linc isn’t here,” BD commented. Manny shrugged.
“He didn’t wanna come,” the biker said.
“I see,” BD sighed. “Well, that’s too bad. He was pretty good at salvage work.”
“His second, Hube, is just as good,” Manny shrugged again. “And he don’t buck the Boss.”