Page 85 of Extraction

The smell of damp earth found its way to my senses and drew me from my groggy state. My head pounded behind my eyelids. A nasty pain ripped through my chest, and my lungs burned like my flesh was on fire. I dug my fingers into the ground, desperate to ease the pain. It took a few seconds to realize I was on my back, and I rolled around to try to orient myself.

I screamed, but the vibration brought on a whole new level of pain. Every thought that managed to get through swirled into the next, and I couldn’t get a clear handle on any of them. The only thing that made sense was that I was seeing white from the pain.

Sunlight pierced my eyes when I opened them, and my body felt like a ton of bricks hung off it as I tried to move my legs to stand.

“Ah!” I felt the cycle of pain, confusion and a foggy head again. The only thought that managed to push through was my watch. I clicked the button on the side of the face twice to activate my signal for help. Although if my blood pressure had dropped, it would have alerted the team already. My right arm moved better than my left, so I felt around and jolted when I ran my hand down my chest and felt a hole.

A flashback of when I died the first time came screaming back to me, and I knew I must have been left for dead, but by who?

An engine noise stopped my thoughts, and I blinked at the dust cloud on the horizon. Company was coming. I felt around for my weapon, but it was gone, and so was my backup I kept on my ankle. Shit, fists it is. The world tilted when I lifted my head and tried to make out anything else, but all I could see was that the dust cloud was bigger.

I tuned in to a different noise, like a fan cutting into the wind, and I leaned awkwardly back to see the sky. Our beloved military chopper was headed in my direction. I dropped my head into the dirt with a sense of relief as a Jeep appeared out of the dust and stopped a few feet from me.

“You better be fucking alive, brother.” John rushed to my side and ripped the gear from my chest. “If I didn’t know it was you,” he tapped my watch, “I wouldn’t’ve recognized you with all that paint on your face.”

I tried to get my eyes to focus on him. “Stop moving, will ya?” I groaned. “I kept,” it hurt to speak, “my promise.” I tried to sit up and couldn’t stop my cry of pain.

“Stay down, brother. You’ve taken quite a beating.” John pressed my shoulder. “Help’s on the way.”

“My son?” I managed to get the words past my thick tongue. “Have I had too much tequila?”

“How is he?” Cole asked.

“He’s been drugged with something.” John’s fingers touched my neck. “Looks like he put up a good fight, but they probably took him down with this.” I felt him touch my chest. “He got a stab wound here and here, but it doesn’t look like they got the heart or lung, or he’d be gone. They probably figured he was done and left him.”

“Look at his arm.” Cole sounded pissed. “They marked him. It was the Ruiz soldiers who did it, and they might be back.”

“My son,” I repeated as the wind from the chopper whipped around us. Why aren’t they answering me?

“Let’s get him in the chopper,” John shouted, and I felt myself being lifted.

“You’re gonna be okay, Paul.” Keith’s voice was muffled.

“Keith.” It took all my strength, but I pulled the memory of what happened forward. I had to tell them. “Safehouse. Tylenol. Got jumped.” Things made sense in my head, but I knew I was all over the place when I spoke. “Nicole, Chase.”

“Who’s Chase?” John leaned over me. “You’ll be fine, Paul. We’re gonna get you fixed up and you can tell us everything.” I focused on his face. “Paul, when did you last see Nicole?”

I couldn’t answer. My mind swirled again, and my tongue wouldn’t work. I felt a jab in my arm and closed my eyes. I could feel that we’d lifted into the sky, and I felt relief that I was safe.

“I got the IV in him.” John’s voice again. “Shouldn’t take long now. We need to flush whatever the hell they gave him from his system.”

Another sharp prick, and I felt the warmth of morphine go through me, easing my pain immediately. At least this time I didn’t see a white light like all those years ago when death tried to take me. My head began to clear a little.

“John,” I managed to grab his hand, “where’s my son? Where’s Nicole?”

“What happened at the safehouse?” John leaned over me, and I focused on his face.

“I was jumped after I left the safe house to get Tylenol for Chase.”

“Who’s Chase, Paul?” John looked confused.

“My son.” I shook my head to clear it. “They shot me up with something. I tried to fight them, then someone stabbed me. They thought I was dead. One of ’em got a call, and they all took off. Fuckers were gonna leave me there for the jackals. Now, answer me. Where’s my son, where’s Nicole, and are they okay?”

He squeezed my hand and didn’t say anything. I knew every line of my friend’s face, and his expression said it all as his brows pinched and his lips thinned into a straight line.

“Tell me.”

He pulled out his phone and handed it to me, and I watched in horror as I saw Nicole put my son on national TV to try to get help to cross the border.

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