“I wondered when you’d show yourself,” I bluffed, stepping in front of Connie. I could feel her trembling as she held onto my arm.
“That’s him,” she muttered in my ear. “That’s the man I saw.”
“I said, hand it over, bitch,” he growled. stepping closer.
“I don’t know what’s on this card but is it really worth dying for?” I asked him, easing my hand toward my gun.
“You keep reaching for that sidearm and you’ll have your answer,” he said, waving his pistol at me. “Now, reach over with your left hand and, using two fingers, hand me your gun.”
He sounds like he’d had some training.
“Do it, now!” he yelled.
Thinking through every scenario, I knew he was going to kill us as soon as he had the card. I put my right arm behind me, pushing against Connie’s stomach as my left hand edged toward my gun. My muscles tightened, and my jaw clenched as I reached for my gun with two fingers.
“No, wait!” Connie yelled. “This is what you want.” She held up the case and rattled the card inside it.
She popped the whole thing into her mouth and acted like she was swallowing it. At least I think she was acting.
“I’m going to gut you, bitch,” the gunman said, firing at her.
On impulse, I pushed Connie aside, drawing my gun and firing in one fluid motion. I counted two flashes from his gun as I fired at him, and then he was on the ground. I ran over and kicked his gun out of his hand. He didn’t move. I poked him in the stomach with the barrel of my gun and blood gushed from the bullet hole under his ribs. I hadn’t had time to aim but had to admit that I was pretty proud of the results. I pulled his ski mask off and looked at him. Dark hair wet from sweat. A scar over his right eyebrow and a crooked nose that obviously had been broken before.
“Connie, do you recognize this guy?” I asked over my shoulder as I felt for his pulse. Yeah, he’s dead.
When Connie didn’t answer, my heart stopped. I turned quickly and saw her lying on the ground, hugging Bubbles.
“Oh, God. Connie!”
“What… what happened?”
“Are you hit? Did he hit you?”
“No. I don’t think so,” she said, looking down at herself. She looked back at me and her mouth gaped open. Her face paled a sickly white. “Hettie.” She pointed at me, her finger trembling. “I think you were shot.”
The moment she said that, the adrenaline evaporated. I felt the pain before I saw the wound in my shoulder. I had never been shot before. Funny, it didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would… Oh, God. I stumbled and fell to the ground. Connie rushed to my side. She ripped off a piece of her shirt and pressed it on the wound. I wanted to scream at the searing pain, but I gritted my teeth instead and waited for the pain to subside.
“My, God, Hettie. You’re bleeding from your back, too.”
A through and through. That was probably a good thing. I couldn’t lift my arm because of the pain, but I could still move my hand and fingers, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to die from the bullet itself. I wasn’t so sure about the blood loss, though.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” she proclaimed.
“No. No hospitals, no clinics, no doctors. He’s not the only one…” A surge of pain made my head spin worse. “Help me get to the car.”
“Hettie, you need to go to the emergency room.”
Inhaling sharply, I spat out my words quickly. “ERs have to report gunshot wounds. Whoever sent this guy after you will send another. We need to get out of here and find a place to hole up for a few days. Now, don’t argue with me and help me get to the car.”
I started to get up, but Connie stopped me.
“Let me get you bandaged up first. Hold this tight to stop the bleeding,” she instructed.
She placed my good hand over the wadded-up torn shirt. Then she stood up, tugged on Bubbles leash and walked over to Meredith’s tombstone. She picked up a satchel bag, a backpack, and her purse.
“Hey, that’s my backpack,” I protested, distracting myself from the pain.
“Yeah, sorry. I wanted to travel light. You can have it back if you want?”
“Nah, keep it. I never used it anyway.”
She tossed the backpack on the ground and opened the satchel, pulling out a bottle of water. Twisting the top off, she held it to my lips. I gazed up at her appreciatively as I drank. When I was satisfied, she pulled out the cat’s feeding bowl and poured some water in it. Bubbles pounced on it like she was dying of thirst.
“There’s not a lot of supplies in here so we’ll need to stop for more,” she said as she pulled out a first-aid kit.
“I understand. As long as you don’t stop at a hospital or clinic for the supplies.”
She clicked her teeth disapprovingly as she tore open a package and pulled out a gauze pad. “You can move your hand now,” she instructed.
I pulled off the piece of shirt and tossed it on the ground. As she worked to bandage my shoulder, I noticeed that her soft pale skin where she had torn her shirt. Perhaps it was the need to distract myself from the pain, but I became fascinated by her belly button. She was an outie. I’d never dated a woman with an outie before and the thought of sucking on it gave me a respite from the pain for just a moment. It was short-lived though, as she moved behind me to work on the back of my shoulder.
“All done,” she said, bringing me back to reality.
She helped me up, wrapping my good arm around her shoulder. As soon as the blood stopped rushing to my head, we walked to the car.
“You’ll need to drive,” I said, trying not to breathe too deeply, making it hurt worse.
“I should hope so. Where are we going?” she asked as she opened the door for me.
“I don’t know yet. Just drive out of town away from Roanoke and Arlington. When I’m sure we’re not being followed, we can check into a motel for the day.”
I tried to reach for my keys, but they were in my left jeans pocket, and I couldn’t get my right hand inside.
“Uh, the keys to the car are in my pocket. If I promise not to bite, will you get them, please?”
“And if I want you to bite?” she asked with a chuckle.
I was pretty sure she was in shock, but I still couldn’t believe how brave she was being. Just a few days ago, something like this would have sent her over the edge. She pulled out my keys and then helped me sit down in the passenger seat. Pressing my hand over the wound, she fastened the seatbelt across it to hold it in place. She pulled a blanket from her satchel and covered me with it. Shutting the door, she walked around to the driver’s side and put Bubbles in the back seat. Then she got in.
“Connie, I need your word that you will do what I asked.”
She started the car, adjusted the seat and mirrors, and then looked at me. “Fine. I promise not to drive you to the hospital.”
“Thank you. Now, I’m just going to pass out for a little—”
“Hettie? Hettie?”
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda Sanders (Connie Yarbrough-Morrison)
It’s hard to drive when you’re crying. You’re distracted, trying to catch the tears before they drip on your blouse. You’re blinded by those same tears and you’re thinking about the woman bleeding out in the passenger’s seat next to you. When Hettie shot that man, I think I fainted for a little bit from the shock of it. The man who killed my parents in cold blood was lying on the ground in a cemetery, dead. Good! May he rot in hell.
Hettie moaned and the anxiety in my stomach began to churn again. I couldn’t let her die. Not her, too. We were on U.S. 221, twenty minutes out of Roanoke, when I saw a billboard for a country store in a town called Poages Mill. I slowed down and pulled off onto the access road. The store appeared to be larger than the town itself. Leaving Hettie in the car, I hurried in and looked around. When I worked as a dispatcher, we had printed instruction cards to read depending on what the problem was and the immediate need for help. I’d re
ad the card on bullet wounds so much I had it memorized. I knew what to look for.
I was afraid to talk to anyone so I wandered down the aisle looking for rubbing alcohol, antibiotic cream, gauze, tape, and aspirin. Once I found them, I also grabbed some bottled water, bread, peanut butter, and cookies. Paying for it with the last of the cash I had on me, I rushed back out to the car.
I put the supplies in the trunk, then I grabbed a bottle of water and opened the passenger side door.
“Connie?” she mumbled and rolled her head toward me.
“Drink this,” I ordered, twisting the lid off the bottle.
She didn’t open her eyes, and I was on the verge of panicking. Stay calm. Take care of her. I cupped her chin and tilted it back, bringing the bottle to her lips. Careful, careful, I told myself, afraid she might gag if I poured too much in at once. Thankfully, she swallowed a few gulps without any problem. I put the cap back on the bottle and lifted her hand off her wound. It was still bleeding just a little. I was going to change the dressing, but someone pulled up and parked their car right next to ours. Okay, don’t panic. Time to go.
Back on the road, I drove without a destination or time limit. I wasn’t the adventurous type. I liked to know where I was going and how long I’d be there. I was completely out of my comfort zone and so scared I was shaking. If only Hettie would wake up and tell me everything was going to be all right. She was so strong, and so smart. She’d saved me. She’d jumped in front of me and saved me. Now I had to figure out how to save her.
I drove for over an hour, following U.S. 221 wherever it led. Hettie was mumbling in pain, and I reached over and patted her leg. She was getting worse. I saw several billboards for hotels and motels coming up on the other side of Hillsville and decided to stop at the first one I came to. The hotels were actually clustered near the I-77 overpass and had a couple of fast food restaurants within walking distance.
I pulled up to a motel and parked near the front door. Opening my purse, I pulled out my wallet, then I realized that I didn’t have any more cash on me.
“Hettie, are you awake?”
“Almost,” she replied, much to my relief.
“I need some money for the motel.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re checking into a motel in Hillsville just past the I-77 overpass,” I replied.
“That’s good,” she said, twisting in her seat. “My money clip is in my left jean pocket.”
I slipped my hand inside her pocket and pulled it out. “Thanks. I’ll be right back. Stay still, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she muttered with a smile.
I hurried inside and reserved a room for us. Although it was early morning, I told the woman behind the counter that I’d be staying the night and asked if I could have a quiet room in the back to get some rest. She didn’t seem interested in conversation when she took my money, and I was grateful for that. I got back in the car and drove around to the back side of the motel. Our room was the last one on the right near the ice machine. Perfect.
Bubbles meowed at me when I opened the passenger side door. She was either hungry or needed to pee. Probably both.
“Just one more minute, kitty. Let me help Hettie out first.”
“I can make it,” Hettie protested, gripping the door with her good hand.
I wrapped my arm through hers and helped her up anyway. “Can you stand?” I asked, still holding on to her.
“Yeah. Grab the cat before it takes off.”
I looked down, and Bubbles was sniffing the air from the open car door. I bent over and grabbed her leash just as she jumped out of the car. That’s when I noticed the blood on the seat where Hettie had been sitting.
“Oh, God. Hettie, you’ve lost a lot of blood. Please, please let me take you to the hospital.”
“I’ll be okay. The bullet went right through me and obviously didn’t hit anything vital or I wouldn’t be able to form a complete sentence. Just need to get some rest.”
Putting aside my feeling of dread, I held up the motel card and said, “Let me get the door.”
She walked on her own into the room and went straight to the bathroom.
“Leave the door unlocked just in case,” I advised as I shut the door and unclipped Bubbles’ leash. I decided to leave her harness on for now in the event that we had to leave in a hurry.
“Just in case you want to come in and watch me?” she asked brazenly.
Shaking my head, I laughed. “Yeah, sure, that’s it.” I popped back out to the car and picked up the satchel from the back seat and brought it in. Setting it on the chair by the table, I asked, “Everything okay in there?”
“Your damn cat is watching me pee,” she barked.
Giggling under my breath, I went back out to the car and popped the trunk. Picking up the few supplies I had bought at the store, I closed the trunk and hurried back inside. As I put the bags on the table, I heard the toilet flush. Hettie walked out, swayed a bit, and then sat down on the bed closest to the bathroom. The room was small, as expected for a motel. The table sat beside the only window in the room and the window was covered in thick, ugly curtains. There were two double-sized beds with a nightstand and lamp in-between them, and a tiny television with a coat hanger for an antenna.
“Where’s the laptop?” Hettie asked, moving to the head of the bed.
I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, my hands on my hips. “First things first,” I said, picking up the sack with the medical supplies. “We need to get you out of that shirt so I can properly clean and dress your wounds.”
I was always the squeamish type as a kid, but I guess watching a man get shot right in front of me toughened me up. Besides, if I didn’t do something, Hettie could bleed to death. The thought of her dying was all the armor I needed. I walked into the bathroom and got a clean washcloth and a towel, then set them beside the bottle of rubbing alcohol on the nightstand.
“Sure, wait until a girl is down to come on to her.”
I could feel my cheeks blush but I tried to ignore them. “Now, be good and let me work.”
“I’ll bet you’re very good when—”
I clamped my hand over her mouth. “You haven’t changed a bit since college.”
“You have,” she stated. “You’re not that timid, shy little girl anymore. Well. Not around me, at least.”
“Thank you… I think. Now, I’m going to unbutton your shirt, and I don’t want any innuendo’s, understood?”
“Ah, come on. What’s wrong with a little harmless flirting to ease the pain?”
“I’ve got some aspirin to help with that,” I replied smugly. Unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as possible, I still had to endure her humming the stripper song. Incorrigible. And, of course, she wasn’t wearing a bra. My eyes went straight to her firm, full breasts. Her tips pointed up, as if they were watching me watching them. Damn! I quickly turned my head, blushing profusely.
“Go ahead. I don’t mind if you look.”
“Yeah, well. I mind. And I know for a fact that Meredith would mind.”
“Wow. What kind of person was Meredith if she wanted you to be celibate the rest of your life?”
My embarrassment instantly turned to anger. “Don’t you dare talk about Meredith that way.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling the extra pillow across her breasts with her good hand. “But you didn’t die with her, so give yourself a break. I remember that in college Meredith was fun and full of life. I really don’t think she would mind if you looked at another woman.”
Rationally, I knew what Hettie said was true, but emotionally, I wanted to slap her. I was just afraid that she’d enjoy it. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at my own joke.
“If and when I choose to move on, I’ll be the one who makes that decision, not you.” Somewhere lying under the anger was flattery. I felt flattered that she was interested. “Now, lean forward so I can gawk at your back.”
She la
ughed as she leaned forward. I removed the soaked gauze pad and set it to the side. Then I opened the rubbing alcohol and doused the washcloth with it. “I’m sorry—”
“I’m sorry, too, Connie,” she said sincerely.
“No. I mean, I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.”
“Oh…”
I put the washcloth on the exit wound, pressing firmly.
“Oh! Oh, God. That hurts,” she shouted, biting into the pillow.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Just a little more.”
“It’s okay,” she said between pants. “I probably deserved that.”
My hands froze in place. “No, Hettie. You didn’t. You were shot saving me. You deserve so much more than I could give you.”
“Accept my apology, and we’ll call it square.”
Smiling, I nodded. “I accept your apology, but that in no way makes up for you saving my life.” I squeezed a generous portion of antibiotic cream onto the gauze bandage and packed it in, then taped it onto her shoulder.
She glanced over at me. “What about the fact that you’re saving my life right now? Huh, what about that?”
Grinning at her persistence, I replied, “Okay, I give up. Now, lean back and let me clean the front wound. This is going to hurt, too.”
She leaned back, keeping the pillow close to her chest, and inhaled slowly. “Okay. Ready.”
She bit into the pillow as I used the washcloth and soaked her wound. It was one thing to read instructions over the phone to a victim and another to actually do it myself. It hurt me almost as much as it did Hettie, to put her in such pain. I taped up her wound and helped her lean back, not that she needed my help. I just… needed to be gentle with her.
Going to the closet by the door, I pulled down a blanket and carried it over to Hettie. “Are you hungry? I’ve got bread, peanut butter, and cookies.”
“Maybe later. I’m not hungry right now,” she answered.
“Okay, but I want you to take some aspirin.”
“Why?” she asked. “I’m not running a temperature.”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just something people take when they’ve been shot.”
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