By the time I reached his calf where several pieces of gravel had found their way under his skin he had started to try and squirm again. “Cut it out, this isn’t even that bad,” I warned him. He muttered something in Spanish and kept trying to move. “Hey,” I barked, “stop moving.” He was looking around, his head turning side to side, his voice turning from slow breaths to desperate panting. “Give me some light on his face,” I directed and one of the guys shifted the beam of his flashlight to comply. As I put two fingers to his neck to check his pulse I noticed that there were air bubbles beneath the skin near his clavicle. I ran my fingers across the skin and it felt like there was bubble wrap under the skin. “Fuck,” I said pulling my knife again.
“What’s wrong?” asked Matt from where he sat.
“He’s got air trapped under his skin,” I said without explanation.
“And that’s bad?”
“Yeah, it’s bad,” I said before getting the bikers attention. “Hey, look at me.” The biker’s eyes opened and he wheezed, already confirming what I thought. “How does your chest feel?”
“Al igual que alguien está sentado en él.”
“English,” I snapped back.
“Tight. Hard to breathe,” he said frantically.
“Look at me,” I said lifting his head so he could see me, “this is going to hurt, but it’s to save your life. Try not to move.” I placed two finger on his side a few inches down from his clavicle, feeling for bone.
“What are you goi…” he started but screamed as I stabbed my knife into his side.
I intended to make a cut between his ribs but missed and felt my knife hit bone. “Sorry. Stay still,” I said moving up a quarter of an inch and trying again. This time, I felt the knife slide in as he passed out from the pain. I twisted the knife and felt a rush of air brush past my bloody fingers.
“What are you doing?” asked Matt.
“Trying to save his life,” I said harshly, “Come here and hold this.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“Just take the knife and hold it still,” I said putting his hand on the knife. I grabbed one of the flashlights and headed towards the barrier in the middle of the road.
“What are you doing?” asked Jason.
I ignored him and started looking through the car windows and opening doors. I climbed into the bed of one of the trucks and started rummaging through the trash jumped down when I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I was considering running back to the house when I glanced into the front seat of a teal van. “Yes,” I exclaimed as I tried the door. Who fucking locks doors now? I thought as I pulled my pistol. Turning away I smashed the window and cleared enough of the glass away to unlock the door. Sitting in the cup holder next to some nachos that were growing their own sentient life was a familiar red white and blue cup, its interior stained an electric blue. I snatched up the cup and ran back to the scene of the accident.
“A slushy?” asked Matt as I knelt back down next to him.
I shook my head and picked up some of the rubbing alcohol and washed down the straw I pulled from the slushy cup. “Move,” I said taking the knife from him. I slid the straw down the side of the blade and pulled the knife from the skin. The wound wrapped itself around the straw and held it in place. I sat back on my heels and sighed, staring at his unconscious form. I knelt forward and slapped the bikers face, “Hey, wake up.”
“What are you doing?” asked Matt.
“I need him awake to tell me how he’s doing,” I said slapping him again. His eyes opened and he let out a gasp. “Chest feel better?” I asked him and he nodded. “Good, now don’t move.” He nodded again as I sat back and let out a breath of relief.
“Care to explain now?” asked Jason, irritation evident in his voice.
“His lung was punctured, air was getting trapped outside of the lung and with every breath that pressure was building, pressing against his good lung and probably his heart. I relieved that pressure.”
“So he’s going to be ok?”
I shook my head, “Probably not, but we’ll see.”
“When can we move him?” asked Matt.
I shook my head again, “I don’t really know, maybe after we clean up all of his wounds. We’ll need some way to move him safely. We’ve pretty much screwed him if he’s got a back injury but I don’t want to make anything worse. We need some sort of backboard.”
“I can run back and look for something,” said Matt.
I nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” Matt took off and Justin focused the light back onto the biker’s leg. I sighed and knelt forward again, determined to seal up every cut I could find.
I sat back, finding nothing else to do and just stared at the bikers, quiet, still form. His chest was slowly rising up and down, the silence growing into an awkward one as Jason and I watched. “I think I’m going to go see how Matt is doing,” Jason said hesitantly. I just nodded, my eyes never leaving the biker.
I closed my eyes as Jason walked away, his feet crunching on the gravel and wreckage. I could feel the blood on my hands beginning to dry, it growing thick and sticky under my fingernails. I don’t know how long my eyes remained closed but I opened them only when Matt and Jason returned with a tarp.
“It’s all I could find,” Matt said with a shrug.
“It should work for now,” Jason said, “So when can we move him? It can’t be good for him to be on the road for this long.”
I shook my head, “It’s not going to matter.”
“What?” asked Matt.
In their absence the biker had gone quiet, his mutterings fading away as blood began to leak from the straw in his chest. His breathing was so shallow and infrequent it was almost nonexistent. There was no doubt that he was bleeding internally and that he didn’t have long to live. “He’s bleeding internally,” I said, anger evident in my voice, “There’s nothing else I can do.”
“So we are going to just leave him here?” Jason asked incredulously.
I shrugged and stood, “He’s out, he feels nothing, and I’m not wasting a bullet on a dead man.”
Silence filled the scene again as we all stared at the biker. “Damn,” Matt said quietly.
I stared at him and began taking in the details I had been too busy to notice. His clothes had been clean if well worn, biker’s leathers over jeans and a sleeveless shirt. His hair was shorn down to a buzz cut and he sported a mustache and goatee. Where not covered in cuts or blood his tan skin was covered in tattoos. On closer inspection I realized that they weren’t just any tattoos, many of them were gang tattoos. “Well fuck,” I said.
“What?” asked Jason.
“This guy is, or he was, an eighteenth street gang member.”
“How can you tell?”
“What’s the Eighteenth Street Gang?” asked Thomas.
“They’re a Mexican gang in LA. They’re into drugs, gun running, armed robbery, prostitution, anything vice related they’re probably involved.”
“And how the fuck do you know that?” asked Matt.
“History channel.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Late at night the History channel always has something like ‘Sex in the Middle Ages’ or ‘Top Most Violent Gangs’ or some crap like that. I’d watch them when I couldn’t sleep.”
“Ok, but still. How can you tell?” repeated Jason.
“The tattoos. See the big eighteen on his neck? And the X V III on his knuckles? They’re all super common tats of that gang.”
“Ok, so he was a gang banger. Why's that so bad?” asked Thomas.
“These kinds of gangs are for life. If there’s one of them there’s probably more and that’s the last thing we need.”
“So what are we going to do then?” asked Jason.
“Get the body off the street, we’ll burn it in the morning. We’re going to have to hope that this guy was by himself, maybe he was the only surviving member of his gang or he was out to carve out his own bit of turf.
We’re going to hope he was alone but we’re going to be ready just in case he wasn’t.”
We got the body to the side of the road and started walking home I stretched and yawned. The brief adrenaline rush had left me and I was feeling more tired than before. Unfortunately, I still had the rest of my shift to finish. I balled my hands into fists and realized that they were sticky with the guy’s blood. God, I hope he didn’t have anything, I thought. I’d finish my shift after I washed and changed.
Inside I tried to clean up as quietly as I could. Getting a bucket I washed with cold water and plenty of soap. I walked into my room wearing only my blood-spattered jeans hoping I’d be able to change without waking Sarah. Turns out I didn’t have to worry, she was already awake and she was not very happy.
“Where were you?”
“I was on my watch.”
“And you got covered in blood on watch how?” she asked skeptically.
“Would you believe me if I told you I cut myself?” I asked with a smile. Her face darkened. “Ok, ok. Bad joke. I heard a motorcycle in the distance. We went down to investigate. The guy was going too fast and he hit the roadblock. I tried to save him but he was in really bad shape. He’s dead, it’s his blood.”
“And why didn’t you wake me?”
“Well it happened while I was on watch and you were asleep.”
“So were Thomas and Jason but you woke them, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t a big deal.”
“I woke up and wondered where you were. I realized that it was because you were on watch and I was about to go back to sleep when I heard you yell to get a med kit over the radio. I was about to run to find out who got hurt but then you said something about a biker. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Wha…” I gaped, “I…it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Oh don’t worry,” she said getting up “I wasn’t,” and she left.
“Sarah wait,” I called out still trying to stay quiet, “Sarah please.” But she was gone. I changed my jeans and put on another t-shirt and sweatshirt. I sat on the edge of my bed and put my face in my hands. I ran a hand through my hair, got up and said, “That girl is going to be the death of me.”
Back on the roof, I found it hard to stay awake. I was tired, not just physically but mentally. With Sam’s death, the fight with Jason, the threat of a bunch of gang bangers and now this thing with Sarah. I didn’t know how long I could hold it together. We might survive this but I’d probably belong in a padded cell by the end.
Climbing down the ladder after passing the rifle off to Justin I stumbled into my room. Changing, I got into my empty bed yawning. As tired as I was I couldn’t fall asleep, my thoughts wouldn’t slow and I couldn’t get Sarah off my mind. I rolled over and caught the smell of her mint shampoo on my pillow. I hugged the pillow and wondered how I was going to fix this latest fuck up. It’s amazing how quickly you can miss someone you care about, even if you just saw them. Eventually, I fell asleep and when I woke I was still holding Sarah’s pillow. I got up and headed out to the kitchen to face whatever the day had in store.
Almost everyone was already in the kitchen eating breakfast and talking. From the level of intensity of the talk I figured they had already been told about our nighttime visitor. “So I guess you guys have already heard?” Scattered nodding “Good. I want you all to know that there’s no reason to worry. It was probably just one guy so let’s not panic, ok?” I knew how this kind of information could worry everyone so I had to appear level-headed and unconcerned.
As I was chewing my granola bar I heard Justin call out, “Where’s all the water?”
“Whose turn is it to get water?” I asked.
“Christina,” said Thomas.
“Well, where is she?”
“She’s ah… still asleep.”
“Well, get her up.”
“She was kinda up really late.”
“Oh God,” I said rolling my eyes, “I don’t want to hear about it.”
“No, nothing like that,” Thomas said blushing a little bit, “She’s been kind of sleeping next to me for the last few nights and when Matt woke me she woke up too. After we got back I explained what happened and before we could go back to sleep Sarah came bolting out of your room. She and Christina spent the rest of the night talking. I think…” he stopped.
“What? You think what?”
“I…I think she was crying.”
I paused before saying, “Thanks, man. I’ll get the water. Let them sleep.” I walked out to the pool room and grabbed two buckets and started off towards the well house to get the water. What did I do that was so bad? Is it because I kept her out of it? That couldn’t be it. What did I do? I thought as I walked into the well house. I looked up at the large tank which held all the water that had been pumped from the ground. It was just over half full but it would be a good idea to turn the generator on and fill it up. I tied a rope to the handle of one of the buckets, climbed the ladder on the side of the tank and lowered the bucket in. After I had filled both buckets I started to walk home. I had plans to install a pulley system to make getting water easier. It wasn’t a big deal for me or the other guys but I figured that it was harder for some of the smaller girls like Liz.
Setting down the buckets in the kitchen I rubbed my shoulder. I never got sore so quickly before I’d hit that shovel but ever since my shoulder would start to hurt when I lifted anything too heavy. “Stupid shovel,” I mumbled. I pulled out my radio and announced, “Water’s in the kitchen.” Still trying to stretch my shoulder I went and sat in the living room. There wasn’t a lot to do around the house anymore, not with everyone completing their assigned tasks quickly and efficiently.
Thinking about what I could do next I looked up to see Christina walking towards me “Morning,” I told her.
“Morning,” she yawned.
“Late night?” She looked at me nervously and was about to open her mouth when I raised my hand to stop her. “I’m not going to ask you two what you talked about. I would never ask you to betray her trust. Besides, I know how important girl talk is,” I said smiling, “Can you just tell me one thing? Is she ok?”
She smiled at me, “She’ll be fine. Just talk to her. Give her some space but talk to her when she’s ready.”
“Thanks for being there for her when I messed up.”
She smiled again “You didn’t do anything, James.”
“What?”
She shook her head still smiling, “Just talk to her.”
With that, she walked away leaving me more confused than before. I was happy to hear that she was ok, or would be, but I still had no idea what I did or, I guess, didn’t do. “What?” I mumbled again.
The rest of the day came and went without incident and without Sarah. I was prepared to give Sarah as much space as she wanted and I was ready to go days without seeing her. Turns out I didn’t have to wait all that long.
The next day I was in the yard stretching, my shoulder was still hurting and I needed to work it out. I was just about to go through a set of forms when Sarah walked out the front door. I stopped what I was doing and waited for her. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Look, I’m sorry if…” I started but she interrupted.
“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything.”
“Bu…”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Ok?”
“Yeah, ok. Let’s stretch.”
“Didn’t you already do that?”
“Have you been spying on me?” I teased.
“Oh please,” she said smiling. God, I loved her smile.
“Yeah but I have to make sure you don’t mess any of them up.” She rolled her eyes and I laughed.
We stretched together and I told her to do a few laps around the house while I went inside to get something. Digging in my closet I found what I was looking for, an old gym bag. Unzipping the bag I pulled out a towel which had obviously no
t been washed in years. I set aside the towel and dug out two sets of training pads. The first set were thickly padded gloves, the second were designed to be worn on the forearms.
Back outside I put the pads aside and we went through the basics again, stance, balance, weight, punch, kick, guard. I walked her through the form I taught her and had her do it twice more by herself to ensure she had it memorized, performing second attempt almost perfectly.
Survivors Series (Book 1): Heroes Aren't Born Page 19
