“Will you’re amazing. You’re amazing!” I gush, watching the bullet fall away from the wound, sliding down his chest and rolling to the ground. I lift his head up and rest him over my legs, hugging him to my stomach, laughing that he’s okay.
He cries out in pain and I pull back, watching him grip his chest where I see that the wound is bleeding freely again.
I grab a shirt off the ground, fallen out from a broken drawer that’s turned on its side beside us and hold the shirt over his wound. “You just need to give yourself time to heal, but you’re going to be okay,” I assure him. “Stan and Martha are dead,” I assume Stan is no longer alive now that he has been left forgotten on the ground gasping for breath. “And we’re getting out of here.” My gaze moves around the room again, hoping to alert someone that I need help, but it’s still empty. I have no idea when everyone left because my focus has solely been on Will, however with the state of Pratt, I can guess where they went.
“Can you walk? We need to get you to medical,” I ask him, afraid to move him too early. Will managing to survive may be a real miracle, yet I don’t want to push it.
“Is that blood? Are you bleeding?” Will’s voice is raspy, and I think he is paling before my eyes.
I look down to see it’s true; I have blood all over myself. “It’s yours, I think.” I have to admit I can’t really remember how I got out in that hallway, or what happened to me between Frank dying and now, but that doesn’t matter. Not right now. “I think you’re looking worse, I’m going to get a doctor. Wait here, okay?” I move my hands to his shoulders, preparing to move him gently back to the floor, but his hand comes up and grips my wrist weakly. I halt my movements, unsure if I’m hurting him.
His eyes close and he swallows hard, tears moving down his face. “Will?” I cry out, afraid this is all some horrible trick, and I’m about to lose him again, this time for good.
“I’m okay, just… don’t leave me. Give me a second, please.” He doesn’t open his eyes back up. I watch him tensely for long minutes, waiting for him to say something else. I softly move his hand away, putting it back by his side so his body isn’t twisted and I put pressure back on the shirt over his chest, afraid that he might bleed out. I feel all the horrible memories pressing down on me, wanting to surface and consume me. All the scenes like this that I’ve faced, but I hold them off. If I let those memories in, then I’ll never be able to function, and Will needs me. I need to be here for him.
“You can heal from anything. You can heal from this, too,” I whisper to him, or maybe I’m just saying it for my benefit. I’m not sure.
I pull the shirt away and look his wound over, needing to know that it’s getting better. Already the bleeding is slowing down, however the sick looking hole stays. It’s in the center of his chest, and while it’s likely to have missed his heart, it’s also very likely that he’s got a collapsed lung at the very least. Is that something he can heal from on his own? Or does he need serious medical help? Are we wasting time staying here?
Almost like he can feel my panic growing, he speaks, “All right, I’m ready.” Then he slowly tries to sit up, and cries out in pain as he makes it into a sitting position. I quickly move behind him and wrap my arms around him, offering support.
“Careful, Will,” I chastise, “remember you just got shot and died. Slow down.”
I listen to his quick breathing and feel his back covered in sweat. I think he might be breaking out into a fever, and I recall back that, when Maggie shot him after the car accident, he had reacted much the same way. It had only taken him a few hours to recover from that, will he recover the same from this?
“Help me stand,” he says, and as we both get up, he leans heavily on me. I nearly fall over from his weight, but I place my feet firmly under me and just make it without us both collapsing. I move to the side of him, my arm staying firmly wrapped around him while his arm leans down over my shoulder.
We walk slowly to the open door, passed a thankfully still unconscious Maggie. I notice her chest move up and down, and I see the bruises and cuts over the exposed parts of her body. I hope the boys gave her hell since I assume she has something to do with the state of Will and Pratt.
It feels like it takes an hour to get out into the hallway, although I know I’m being impatient. I’m desperate to get Will to a doctor. I need a medical professional to tell me that he is really okay, that this isn’t just a sick twist of fate.
We scoot around Martha’s motionless body and Will gapes at seeing her.
“What happened out here?” he asks me, sounding out of breath.
Images rush into my vision, obstructing my view of what is ahead of us.
Corby pinning me to the wall. Corby pulling a gun on Ocean. Corby shooting Martha dead.
I shake my head, clearing my eyes. My heart accelerates knowing I’m about to remember something far worse than any of that.
“Corby, I think,” I answer him. We stay silent then and I sigh in relief when I steer him through the doors into medical. I look up and see three doctors surrounding Pratt. Ethan looks wild next to them with blood all over his front. Blake and Ocean are next to him, holding him away from the doctors as they do their work.
They all glance over at us in shock as we enter, but Ethan doesn’t appear to care. His eyes go straight back to Pratt. Blake leaves Ocean to hold back Ethan, rushing over to us, helping me with Will. We lower him onto a bed close by.
“What the hell?” Blake gasps once Will is sitting on the bed, holding his chest.
“Will is the strongest person I know, no bullet is going to hold him back,” I say proudly, secretly thanking whoever granted my wish of letting him live and praying he stays okay.
“That’s incredible,” Blake says, his hand slapping Will’s shoulder.
“How’s Pratt?” I ask, sitting next to Will on the bed, not willing to move far from him.
“Not good. The doctors are working on her, so there’s hope. They haven’t asked any questions yet. Apparently, they didn’t hear any of the commotion.” We glance over to her and while I want to alert a doctor that Will needs assistance, I find my voice stuck in my throat. Pratt does not look good. I know that right now it’s crucial that she get all the help she can.
“What about the others? I know they definitely heard something.”
“I saw a couple on my way here, they looked freaked.”
“Aren’t they trained for this crap? Not one of them came to help us!” I huff, fury rising in my chest and zapping away at my energy.
“Corby looked fucking scary. How the hell did you survive him?” Blake asks, eyeing me carefully now.
Corby. The gun. The struggle for it. It going off between us. His shoulder hit…
“It doesn’t matter. How are we getting out of this situation? What’s next?” Ocean asks, walking over to us. Ethan is over by a set of doors, and Pratt has disappeared. Most likely she’s in surgery now.
“First, we get Will help,” I say, eyeing Will’s pain-filled look. “Then we get the information we need and get out of this place.”
“What about the bodies out there? Won’t the cops just clean this situation up? We can’t trust them,” Blake assures us, no doubt remembering what happened to him and Dean only a few months ago.
“No, but maybe we don’t alert them. Maybe we should call the press? Call the local news station with a tip?” I suggest, taking Will’s free hand and holding it, needing the contact with him.
“Good idea, do you think they’ll go for it, though?”
“We have to hope they do. Either way, we need information. You guys take this, go into Stan’s office and get the information. I think I know who we can trust to give it to,” I say, leaning forward and pulling Frank’s letter from my back pocket. I had almost forgotten about it, forgotten that I needed to read it sometime.
I hand it to Blake and he seems just as hesitant as Ethan was to take it.
“Aren’t you going to come?”
&
nbsp; “No, I’m not leaving Will. Hurry up and get it done.” I sound bossy to my own ears, but I wince apologetically at them.
“I’m okay.” Will tries to assure me, but his hand grips mine tighter and I read between the lines. He doesn’t want me to leave any more than I want to.
“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you,” I say, turning to him as the boys rush off. “Maybe you should lean back,” I suggest, patting the empty space of mattress behind us. Will gingerly moves himself more fully onto the mattress, laying his back flat along it.
I move so I’m lying on the mattress, too, on my side, facing him. I move the shirt away from his chest and look at the ugly wound. “This really needs to be looked at by someone, you might get an infection or something.”
“I’ll be okay. I’ve survived four gunshots, this is nothing,” As Will jokes, I notice his voice sounds stronger already, and he’s not out of breath.
“True. I think you might be Superman.” I try to keep this conversation light, not wanting my sadness to dampen his improved mood. Considering he has been shot and actually died, he is acting remarkably well. Then again, maybe he is simply trying to keep me from freaking out.
“Who?” He looks puzzled over the name.
“He’s a hero,” I explain, saddened that he doesn’t know who Superman is.
“I got shot, Zoe, and then missed everything. That’s not very hero-like.”
“You died, Will. You weren’t breathing, but you came back to us, came back to me. Only the strongest and bravest can manage something that impossible.”
Will reddens in embarrassment.
“I thought I lost you,” I admit, tears coming to my eyes. I can now fully imagine what Rose and Charlie have gone through, what they have felt losing Will and me.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, just promise me you won’t ever scare me like that again,” I beg.
“I promise.” Will looks away from me and I know he’s trying to figure out how to calm me down. I can feel the uncontrollable sobs waiting to escape, too. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold them in much longer. Quick to change the subject, Will takes my hand again and squeezes. “So we can leave here soon?”
“Yes, I think so. There’s nothing keeping us here.”
“Rose and Charlie will be safe?”
“Right now the threat of Stan and Martha is gone. I think that’ll buy us some time. Once the information is out in the world then I think we’ll be protected. P.A.G.E. at the very least will have bigger problems than us.”
“Then we can go home?”
“Yes. I know you didn’t have a great home growing up, but you’re welcome to come with me. I need to go to Boston, but after that I’m going to find Charlie. We can all have a home together, maybe even with Rose. You don’t have to be alone,” I say this again.
“I think I would like to go back to Ohio. I made friends there.” He speaks nervously.
“Of course you can do that. You can do whatever you want, Will. No matter where we all are, we’re connected now, we’re family,” I assure him.
No sooner do the words come from my mouth than a doctor walks out of the doors Pratt has been taken through. When she notices me and Will, she rushes over to us. To say she looks stressed is an understatement, however she takes one look at Will’s wound and begins calling out for help. Two new doctors rush out and they swarm Will. After confirming that the blood over me isn’t mine and that I’m not seriously injured as well, I’m pushed away.
I let them work on Will, relieved that he’s getting some attention, and walk over to Ethan. He hasn’t moved away from the doors. He’s staring at them, like they hold the secret to life.
“Did they say how she is? If they think she’ll make it?” I ask as I stand next to him facing the door.
“They don’t know, they said the bullet punctured her lung and she might have more internal damage. They’ve taken her away to see what they can do. They fear the bullet might have hit a rib and fragmented in her chest.”
“I’m sorry she was hurt,” I say, feeling responsible for bringing her into this. She might have wanted to help us, but it was dangerous and I knew that.
“It’s not your fault. I can’t believe how blind I was to all of this. I’m such an idiot,” Ethan rebukes himself.
“You’re not, you did what you thought was right and you trusted people who you had no reason to doubt.”
“You knew they were bad right from the beginning.”
“Part of my ability,” I explain, knowing I’ve also had a lot of help from future Drew.
We stand in silence for a moment as I listen to the murmurs of the doctors speaking over Will in the corner and Ethan’s harsh breathing coming from next to me.
“Is Parker okay?” Ethan asks me, his eyes still not leaving the door.
“He will be. We’re going to have to leave soon.”
“I can’t leave her,” he says hoarsely.
“I know. I’m sorry I can’t stay with you, but we need to go.”
Ethan slowly nods his head, turning to look down at me. “I understand. You need to take these bastards down. It’s what she would want you to do.”
I try to smile at Ethan, but I know I look more like I’m wincing. The doctors take Will away for x-rays and to check for internal damage. I hate seeing him leave. I think I might have started having a panic attack if Ethan hadn’t taken hold of my hand and squeezed it painfully.
“I wish Meredith could have Parker’s healing ability,” he says sadly.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just squeeze his hand back and stare tensely at the door ahead of us, hoping for good news.
Two long hours later a doctor wheels Will’s bed out. He’s screaming my name, so I rush over to him, fearing he’s in trouble. Although, when he sees me, he merely smiles broadly at me—his eyes glazing over—and he laughs suddenly, the panic and worry in his voice immediately gone.
“Zoo! You look pretty, you have dots.” He pokes my arm and then laughs hysterically.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask the doctor next to him, almost falling on top of Will when he grabs my arm and pulls me forward.
“He’s been given a number of pain killers. We’ve run scans and tests and he appears to be healing well. His wound is already sealing and there is no internal damage. There is some bruising that we want to keep an eye on, but I believe with the rate that he heals, he’ll be back to normal in a few days. We wanted to keep him in the back in a secluded room, but he insisted—quite loudly—that we bring him back out here. I can’t say that Agent Goodings will allow him to stay, however for now we’ve got our hands full.”
I nod, taking in all his words and looking away when he mentions Stan.
“I saw Martha, Zoo—did you know your name is about animals?” he asks mebefore shaking his head to clear it. “Martha was—”
I slam my hand over his mouth and glare when he bites my fingers. When I pull them back he laughs again.
“She was angry with you, I know. The doctor doesn’t need to hear about that.” I pinch his shoulder, hoping he’ll stay quiet.
“Right, well, I’m going to check on Dr. Pratt. If you could alert Agent Goodings of what has happened, I would appreciate it.”
“Yes, straight away. I think they might be out at the back doing a briefing, but I’ll speak with them as soon as I can,” I lie smoothly.
The doctor nods at me and then leaves back through the same doors, brushing off Ethan’s questions as he no doubt asks about Pratt.
I look back down over Will. He has a bandage over his chest and his eyes appear even more glazed over now.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Balloons. I think it was balloons.” He smiles at me and he rests his head back down on the pillow.
Blake and Ocean enter the hospital then, and with them are two large cardboard boxes under each arm. Their arm muscles are bulging, letting me know what they’re carrying
is heavy. It means they got a lot of information. That’s good.
“Did you have any problems? I’m sort of surprised no alarm has been raised by the others,” I say, moving to stand in front of the boys.
“We’ve already loaded up a car with more of this stuff, this is the last. We did have a bit of trouble, but we locked the guys up in the gym. Hopefully, that’ll buy us more time,” Blake says, staring behind me. When I turn around to see what he finds so interesting, I find Will is moving his hands in the air and gaping at them. “Is he okay?”
“They gave him pain meds, so he’s a bit out of it,” I explain, watching him then pick his nose. Oh, Will.
“Are you able to walk?” I ask Will, pulling his hand away from his face.
He sits up, but instead of registering pain, he smiles, so I hold out my hands and help him to stand. He pushes off me, though, when he is on his feet and laughs and points at Blake. I’m not sure why.
I leave him with the boys, going back over to Ethan. Again, I’m not sure if I’ll ever see him again.
“We’re going,” I say quietly, aware of the pain and panic radiating from him. I hate to leave him like this. He nods and after another wistful look at the doors he moves with me towards the boys.
“Stay safe,” he says sternly. The two boys nod that they will. Will pulls a strange face in response. “And you, Holloway, try and look after yourself.” He looks at me this time.
“I’ll try. I hope that Pratt… I hope she’s okay.”
“Thanks.”
“When you get out of here, find us. I think I’ll be with Charlie in Houston,” I say, wondering if this could really happen. Could I be living with Charlie soon? Will he even still want me? Will he be able to forgive my deceiving him?
“We will,” he promises, indicating that he means Pratt, too. He leans forward and wraps his arms around me to hug me tightly to him.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” I say, tears forming in my eyes.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t more. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you sooner.”
Taken By Choice (Taken Trilogy Book 3) Page 31
