Page 92 of After 5

Obscured from the sharpshooters by the undergrowth and brush, I surveyed the damage. Running my hand over his back, blood dampened the back of his jacket. I ran my fingers under the wet material and across his back to find the entry point. Right lower flank.

When I jostled him, he moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. We had lain in each other’s arms like this many times before. His green eyes searched deep into my soul, finding my secrets, and keeping a lock on his.

“What happened?” he asked me.

“You were shot.”

“Who?”

“A mistake.”

“It doesnae matter, Sunshine.”

I cursed the air around me. I saved the boy and changed history, and now the past was setting things right.

He started to close his eyes.

“Stay with me,” I tucked a finger under his chin. “Can you move?”

He gave an effort, then collapsed.

“I’m pretty sure the bullet went straight through, that’s good right?”

“Naugh so good when yer the one it went through.” He ran a hand over my cheek. “Dinnae let them take the seer.”

“Caiyan, I—”

He covered my mouth with his and kissed me long, deep. A kiss I would remember forever.

He fumbled in the pack on his side. “Show her this.” He pressed a small box into my hand.

“What is it?”

“A way home, but dinnae try to break it open, ’tis booby trapped.” He gave a lopsided grin. “The maker was wickedly wise.”

His face changed from a quirky smile to a hard grimace as he fought against a wave of pain. Closing his eyes, he passed out.

I secured the box in my pocket and tried to shake him awake.

His breathing labored. The warm spreading over my front as the blood leaked from his body confirmed there was an exit wound. He was losing too much blood, too fast.

“Please let him live.” I placed my hand on my key and begged for my outhouse to return. When nothing happened, I wished for any of the transporters to come. Hadn’t anyone returned to Gitmo?

Tears stained my face as the leaves began to swirl in the stifling heat, and a flash of lightning blinded me.

Ace’s vessel appeared twenty feet from me, in a sparse patch of brush. He peeked out from the purple velvet drape. When he gained the coast was clear, he moved out into the clearing.

“Ace,” I shouted from my hidden spot under Caiyan, and waved my free arm frantically at him.

“What in the Queen’s name have you done, calling me ’ere?” he stomped from his vessel dressed in the short open-fronted jacket and baggy trousers of the Zouave uniform I’d seen pictures of in the books I studied. His plumed hat bobbed as he scolded me.

“You’re cutting things pretty close ’ere, sister. I told you, I’ve already been to Gettysburg,” he griped steadily as he moved toward me.

“Caiyan’s been shot. Can you help me get him in your vessel?”

His face ashened when he saw Caiyan on the ground. “Damn gurl, you could have given him a piece of your mind. You didn’t have to shoot ’im?”

“I didn’t shoot him. He’s hurt bad, please, hurry.” Ace helped me lift Caiyan. I slid out from under him and stood. His blood soaked dark into my trousers. I dropped my packs on the ground.

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