Page 90 of Over the Edge

Panic clawed at my throat, but I forced it down. Panic wouldn’t help Flynn.

Someone put headphones on me as the helicopter lurched sideways, banking hard over the water. I braced myself against the cabin wall, my hands never leaving Flynn’s wound. His blood was warm against my palms, a stark contrast to the unnatural coolness of his skin.

“BP’s dropping,” Alistair muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he attached monitors to Flynn’s chest. The portable unit beeped to life, displaying vitals that made Alistair’s brow furrow deeper. “Tachycardic. Possible pneumothorax from the impact trauma.”

No one spoke. I could hear my own heartbeat, harsh in the quiet. The kind of silence that crept in when everyone was too afraid to say the wrong thing or admit how bad it really was.

But then Nolan glanced back form the pilot’s seat. “Alright, you lot.” His voice was light, but there was worry in his eyes as he scanned Flynn. “Time for Preacher’s ‘Don’t Die’ Checklist. Number one: Limbs attached?”

“They won’t be if you don’t watch where we’re going,” Decker muttered, tightening his harness as the helicopter dipped in strong gust of wind.

“Excuse me, do I tell you how to be all broody and morally gray? No? Then leave the piloting to me, Dealer.” But he returned his attention back to the stick as he called, “Number two: Blood on the inside?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Alistair said, working focused and fast, his hands steady even as Flynn’s vitals trended in the wrong direction.

“Breathing?”

Flynn stirred, waving a hand to get our attention, then pointing to my headset. Ethan unbuckled from his seat and grabbed an extra one, carefully sliding it on over Flynn’s ears and adjusting the mic to rest near his mouth.

“Doing… the… checklist?” Flynn’s voice was almost lost in the crackle of static.

“You know it,” Nolan said. “You still breathing, Outlaw?”

“Next one… to ask… gets punched.”

“So, check.” Nolan glanced back again, this time his gaze meeting mine. “Did you two think before doing the dumb thing?”

“Definitely not,” Ethan grumbled.

A sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, but wasn’t a full sob escaped me before I could stop it.

“Aye, that tracks,” Nolan said. “Number five: Made your peace with God?”

“Fuck, no,” Alistair muttered.

“Alright, good. That’s five for five. Hear that, Flynn? We’re golden.”

Alistair didn’t look up. “You forgot the most important one, Mav.”

“Oh?” Nolan asked. “I got all five.”

“It’s a new one I’m adding now. No bleeding out before we land.”

Flynn let out a breath that was more groan than laugh. “No promises.”

Nolan made a face and turned back to the stick. “That’s not how the almighty checklist works, mate.”

“What exactly is the checklist?” I asked and glanced over at Ethan. He looked exhausted, tired, and worried. He just shook his head.

“It started as a joke. They were making fun of my actual checklist,” Alistair explained, and knocked his knuckles against the clipboard attached to his medical bag, where he’d been recording Flynn’s vitals.

“It became a tradition,” Trent added. “Our little pre-mission ritual.”

“Aye, we do the checklist, and no one dies,” Nolan said. “That’s why it’s Preacher’s ‘Don’t Die’ Checklist.”

“Post-mission… in this case,” Flynn mumbled, his eyes fluttering. “Got it… backwards… like everything else.”

I reached for his hand. His skin felt cold, clammy. I squeezed gently, and to my surprise, he squeezed back.

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