by Noelle Adams
When they didn’t move, the other guy added, “The girl is disposable.”
Ethan made an uncontrolled sound in his throat, but he immediately heaved himself to his feet. Before he rose, he whispered to her quickly, “If I can distract them, you try to run away.”
There was absolutely no way Ashley was going to leave Ethan by himself with these men who might kill him, but she figured this wasn’t the best time to argue about it.
Ashley didn’t get up. Wasn’t sure she was physically capable of standing.
“She’s meaningless to you,” Ethan said calmly, gesturing at Ashley. “I’ll go with you. Just leave her alone.”
It felt like some kind of romantic, adventure movie, where the hero sacrificially offers himself in order to save the lovely damsel.
Ashley hated being the damsel and wasn’t about to let Ethan sacrifice himself. But she couldn’t immediately think of anything to do.
Cute Guy shrugged. “We’ll take you both. Jones wants you alive. If you come without trouble, things will go more easily on you both. Particularly on the girl.”
Ashley had never seen Ethan’s face look quite so hard. “I’m not going with you, and you aren’t taking her.”
Ethan glanced back at Ashley, and she tried to smile at him encouragingly. He gave her his dear, familiar smirk in response—as if he couldn’t believe they were in this absurdly clichéd situation.
Evidently getting into the dramatic mood, he turned back around to the men. Continued with the perfect, predictable line, absolutely no fear in his voice, “You’ll have to kill me first.”
“Okay.”
Cute Guy shot Ethan. Ashley screamed.
And it seemed to be the end of the fifth day.
Day Six
Somewhere in Indiana
It was the blood that finally forced Ashley to admit the truth.
The sound of the gunshot seemed deafening, and the explosion had made a strange flash in the dark evening landscape, but it was the blood on Ethan’s shirt—on the grass where he fell—that really opened her eyes.
Her efforts today at distancing herself, at trying to protect herself from him had been futile. It was already too late. No barrier she tried to erect between them would have made any difference. It was over, finished, completely decided.
Her feelings had been a done deal from the very beginning.
Ashley had to acknowledge it when she saw his blood spill onto the ground. Her heart was already gone.
Forgetting the two men still standing there with guns, as soon as Ashley could make herself move, she heaved herself onto unsteady legs and ran over to collapse next to his body.
“Ethan,” she cried, her hands on him, trying to turn him over to see his condition. “Ethan.” He didn’t move at all, and blood seemed to be everywhere.
She leaned her face close to him to see if he was breathing, not wanting to examine the wound too closely for fear of what she would discover.
There were tears in her eyes, and her hands were trembling, and she thought for a moment that she might faint.
Then she jerked back in surprise as she heard a low whisper from Ethan’s lifeless body. “I’m dead,” he said, barely moving his mouth.
She blinked and something came back to life inside her heart. Clearly he wasn’t dead—or even dying—if he could say it so matter-of-factly.
And so bossily.
She knew immediately what he meant, despite the cryptic language. So she let out an anguished wail that echoed throughout the empty countryside. “You killed him! He’s dead!”
She heard gruff swearing from behind her, and so she turned to catch the men’s reactions. Neither looked happy with her news.
“Murdering bastards!” she howled, trying to sound as overcome and hysterical as possible. “You killed him. I loved him. My only love. Now he’s dead!” She gave some great, heaving sobs and rose to her legs. Only to fall back on the ground at Cute Guy's feet.
“Fuck,” Cute Guy spit out, lowering his gun.
The other guy turned to stare furiously at his partner. “Idiot. We needed him alive.”
“I was aiming past his shoulder, but the moron tried to duck out of the way. I didn’t mean to kill him.” As he defended himself, Cute Guy started to look more and more nervous. “This whole deal has been a mess from the very beginning. Go see if he’s really dead.”
Ashley was still weeping in a pathetic heap on the ground, but she saw from the corner of her eye that the other guy had lowered his gun as well and was going over to peer at Ethan’s motionless body. He sure looked dead. If Ashley hadn’t heard him speak, she would have been sobbing for real right now.
She hoped Ethan wasn’t seriously hurt. There seemed to be so much blood.
Releasing another wail or two, Ashley tensed herself for action. She was sure Ethan was about to make a move, and she was going to be prepared when he did.
Not that she really knew what she would do, but she was sure she’d think of something when the moment came.
The other guy was starting to lean over Ethan, and Cute Guy took a few steps over toward them. Both of them were ignoring Ashley’s despairing theatrics.
Just as the man was reaching out to touch Ethan’s shoulder, Ethan’s right fist came up out of nowhere and slammed into his face. With a muffled grunt, the man flew backwards to land with a thud on the ground, and his gun was thrown out of his hand.
Ashley leaped up and scrabbled over to retrieve it.
While she did so, Ethan had regained his feet and was struggling with Cute Guy for the second gun. Cute Guy had been taken by surprise, and so even though Ethan was wounded, the fight was almost even.
Ashley had by this point picked up the other gun, so she used the butt of it to hit the other guy on the head when he was starting to get up.
Then she took a few steps over to the struggling men and aimed the gun as steadily as she could. “Give Ethan the gun or I’ll shoot.”
Her hands were shaking a little, and she was pretty sure she’d never be able to hit Cute Guy without accidentally hitting Ethan instead. But it was dark, and Cute Guy might not know this.
Her threat worked in a way she wasn’t expecting. Cute Guy was distracted by her, glanced over to see what she was doing.
Ethan took that opportunity to snatch the gun out of his hand.
“Fuck,” Cute Guy said, when he realized what had just happened. His handsome face was contorted with what looked more like annoyance than rage.
“Maybe later,” Ethan said pleasantly enough, holding the gun in his right hand. The blood was mostly located on his left arm and side. “But definitely not with you.”
“Stop wasting time making smart remarks,” Ashley grumbled. “Should I tie them up or something?”
“With what?” Ethan asked, shooting a glance in her direction. “You all right?”
The second question gave Ashley a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I had the situation completely under control. You didn’t have to rise up from your death scene to rescue me.”
Ethan still had his eye on Cute Guy, who was standing with a snarl on his face, and the other guy was moaning on the ground. But Ethan smiled at Ashley’s comment. “I’m sure you could have handled them all. But you’ve got to give me something to do so I don’t feel useless. Can you check their car to see if there’s any rope or tape or something to tie them up with?”
Obligingly, Ashley went to poke through the dark sedan and eventually emerged with two pairs of handcuffs. “How convenient. Shall I put them on these gentlemen?”
Ethan looked hesitant. Then walked over so that he was holding the gun directly at Cute Guy’s head. “Go ahead,” he prompted her. His eyes, as he glared at Cute Guy, were dangerous and predatory, although he was dead white and clearly in pain from his wound.
Ashley pulled the man’s hands behind his back and secured the handcuffs. Then they followed the same process with the Other Guy.
Once the bad guys were bound, Ashley pushed E
than toward the sedan. “Let’s go. We’ll just leave them here. Maybe someone will come by in a couple of days to help them.”
Ethan nodded, looking for a moment like he might faint.
“I’ll drive,” Ashley added, propelling Ethan in the right direction. “Since you’ve been shot and everything.”
They got in the sedan and drove off, leaving the bad guys handcuffed and coughing in a cloud of dust.
“How bad is it?” Ashley asked quietly, turning to check Ethan out as she accelerated down the dark, empty road.
Ethan was holding a hand to his injured arm. “Just a scratch."
“That’s a lot of blood for just a scratch.” She tried to get a good look at his wound. She couldn’t see much, but Ethan was damp with perspiration and breathing unevenly. “I’m going to find a hospital.”
“No. No hospitals. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jones hired more than the two of them to find us. The first place their associates will look for us will be the hospitals.”
Ashley felt a little like screaming. “Ethan, you’ve been shot. You need medical attention.”
“You’re in pre-med, aren’t you? Plus, I have some experience with this sort of thing. Just get us to a motel, and I can take care of it on my own.”
That was the most ridiculous thing Ashley had ever heard. “I’m driving. We’re going to a hospital. All you do in pre-med is take anatomy classes. I have no idea what to do with a bullet wound.”
“I’m putting my foot down. If you drive me to a hospital, I won’t go in. And then I’ll leave you behind—you’ll never see me again.”
Ashley felt a painful lump in her throat. Swallowed over it hard. “All right. Be stubborn if you want. Motel it is. I’ll go in a different direction than we were originally travelling, so maybe they won’t be able to find us so easily.”
Ethan nodded and leaned his head back against the seat.
“You aren’t going to pass out or anything, are you?” Ashley asked, an edge of fear in her voice.
“I don’t think so.”
She really, really wished he’d given a smart comeback. A rude response. An arrogant jibe. Anything but those simple, quiet words.
She’d never heard him sound so weak before, not in all the years she’d known him.
She turned south as soon as they crossed a highway and drove for a half-hour before they started approaching Bloomington and finally ran into civilization. On the outskirts of town, she stopped at a cheap motel and ran in to get them a room.
Then she tried to help Ethan out of the car, but he pushed away her hands and got himself out on his own.
Swearing at him under her breath, Ashley unlocked the door and walked into a dingy room with only one bed. Ethan went immediately into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Ashley threw open the closed door. Fortunately, he hadn’t locked it yet. “Damn it, Ethan. You have to let me help you.”
Ethan was trying to remove Gus’s gray T-shirt with slightly unsteady hands. His left arm, both his hands, the torn shirt, and his neck were all smeared with blood. Ashley wanted to cry at the sight of it.
“I’m fine,” he told her coldly, not even looking at her. “I don’t need you fluttering about and getting in the way. I know what I’m doing.”
Ashley ignored him and reached to grab the sides of his shirt to help him pull it off. Ethan jerked from her grasp and pushed her hands away with his uninjured arm.
“Ethan, stop being stupid. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I don’t need any help.” He took a few deep breaths, as if he were trying to control dizziness or nausea.
He was turned away from her, so Ashley put her hands on his back. Slid them up to rest on his shoulders. “Do you remember what you told me in the bathroom of that gas station? About us being in this together and needing to accept help from each other.”
Ethan remained perfectly still. Didn’t turn around. Seemed to have even stopped breathing.
“Well, that goes both ways,” Ashley continued, her voice breaking just a little in her earnestness. “You’ve helped me for days, through all kinds of things. Now it’s my turn to help you.” She moved her face closer to him until she was breathing on the back of his neck. “Please let me help you, Ethan.”
He still didn’t say anything, but he turned around, which Ashley took as a sign of agreement. His lips were pressed together, and his eyes were unreadable. But he let her help him off with his bloody shirt.
“Is the bullet still…” Her voice faded away before she completed the question. The image of a bullet anywhere inside Ethan’s body was almost more than she could handle.
“No, it just grazed me.” He was standing perfectly stiff, staring at the floor. “It’s not a very serious injury.”
“But you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Her hands shook from anxiety and from how far distant Ethan had suddenly drifted. “Even minor bullet wounds are nothing to play around with. We need to tie it up with something to make sure the bleeding is stopped.”
“Towel.”
Ashley mopped up the blood as much as she could and wound one of the thin motel towels tightly around Ethan’s upper arm. It was a clean wound—nothing but flesh had been torn. With medical attention, it would probably heal very quickly.
When Ashley had treated him as well as she could manage with their present resources, Ethan left the bathroom. Without speaking, he went to lie down on the bed, propping his head up on the pillows.
She wished she knew what was wrong with him. Why he had suddenly gotten so silent and detached. How the humor and warmth and even the anger had just disappeared without warning
But he seemed hurt in ways that weren’t just physical, and she couldn’t bear for him to be in pain. So Ashley had to try to comfort him.
She lay down next to him in the bed. When he turned onto his side, showing her his back, Ashley screwed up her determination and scooted over until she was spooning him from the back.
“Ethan. What’s wrong? What happened?”
He kind of grunted, but didn’t give any clear response. Every muscle in his body was tense.
“Is it that hard for you to let someone help you? To let me help you, even after everything we’ve been through?” Her hand was resting gently on his shoulder, carefully avoiding his injury.
He didn’t respond again, so Ashley stopped trying to talk. She didn’t know exactly what was going on with him, but she knew he needed someone right now.
So she held him as tightly as she could without hurting him, and she let her body be as much comfort as it could.
She suddenly wished it was really her job to comfort him, wished that she were the person he’d turn to when he needed help. Wished she were allowed to take care of him.
For real. For longer than this night.
They lay together until Ethan relaxed and then finally closed his eyes. When his breathing deepened and evened out, Ashley carefully pulled away from him and got off of the bed. She went to get the car keys and Ethan’s billfold.
Shutting the door quietly behind her, Ashley left the room and got into the car. She drove around until she found a discount store that was open all night. There, she briskly made her way through the aisles, replacing all of their personal items that had exploded with the old truck and stocking up on appropriate first aid products. Then she made an executive decision and went to the clothing department. She bought a pair of cheap khakis for Ethan and a pack of white crew-neck T-shirts. Then she bought herself an inexpensive pair of jeans, a cotton top, and a pair of little white tennis shoes. In addition to the appropriate undergarments.
She spent more money than they probably could afford, but they simply couldn’t keep going on as they had been.
When she returned to the motel room, she was shocked to find Ethan still asleep. She hadn’t expected him to sleep so soundly. But when she went over to feel his forehead, she was relieved to discover he didn’t have a fever.
She puttered around
the room for a few minutes, trying to organize things. Then she took off her skirt and bra, kept on Ethan’s old camp shirt, and got into the bed beside him. She spooned up behind him again and covered them both with a blanket.
Whether Ethan wanted it or not, she was going to be there for him tonight. After all, someone had to take care of the arrogant, infuriating bastard, who had almost gotten himself killed. The dear, brave, tormented soul.
She didn’t get much sleep. Just held him all night. Sometime around three in the morning, Ethan turned over in his sleep. Reached out to unconsciously draw her toward him, pulling her against his chest.
So they ended up holding each other.
***
The following day at around noon, they were on the road again. Ashley had used her first aid supplies to treat Ethan’s injury that morning, but it needed more help than she could provide. So once they were dressed in their new clothes—Ethan complained loudly about the khakis—and in the car, Ashley had stopped at a little drop-in medical clinic she’d spotted the night before. Since it was small and out-of-the-way, Ethan had reluctantly agreed to go in.
They’d sewn him up, bandaged him, and prescribed some heavy pain killers. Ethan had used most of their remaining cash to pay for his treatment, but Ashley had insisted that it was worth it.
He’d grumbled under his breath the whole time, which Ashley took to be a very good sign. He was definitely acting more like himself. Whatever he’d been dealing with the night before had faded with the morning light. Neither of them alluded to the strangeness of the previous evening.
Ashley was driving again today—they’d had a brief argument about it, but she’d won by a landslide. "I didn’t appreciate your explanation of the injury,” she said mildly as they pulled back onto the highway, heading north once again.
“I had to tell them something.” Ethan’s speech was a little slurred. “They seemed perfectly willing to believe that you accidentally shot me as I was trying to teach you how to use a firearm. You must look like that kind of woman.”
“A far more appropriate explanation would be that I shot you purely out of rage after putting up with too much of your smug, patronizing attitude.”
