Page 50 of Powerless
"Big G turns into a big toddler when he gets a cold. With a gunshot wound? Poor Tess is gonna be run ragged taking care of his ass."
"We'll help her," I affirmed with a squeeze around Noelle's waist. "I've been dying to see her and listen to her belly again."
"Oh, she'll be thrilled to see you."
We found a couple more Demons with fairly serious but not life-threatening injuries. I patched them up as well as I could, told them help was on the way, and moved on. But still no signs of Reaper.
When Noelle drove slowly past a big pile-up of motorcycles, I thought I saw movement inside.
"Wait!" I told her. "I think someone's trapped."
She parked her bike and cocked her gun, grabbing my arm as I hopped off. "Stay behind me. It could be one of the other guys."
I nodded, letting her approach the pile of metal with her gun drawn.
"Anyone in there?" she called.
"Help! I'm stuck!" a voice called out.
Noelle looked over her shoulder at me. "Who's that? I don't recognize the voice."
"I don't either."
“What MC are you with?” she yelled, raising her weapon again.
"Steel Demons! I was their prisoner. I, ah, gave them information..."
"Oh shit," I realized. "It's the guard from the outpost! We've got to get him out."
I ran toward the pile of metal. Noelle set her gun down and followed me.
"What's your name?" I asked the guard.
"Larkan," he answered, followed by a groan of pain.
"We're getting you out, Larkan. Can you tell me where you're pinned? Arms, legs, torso?"
"My shoulder feels fucked," he grimaced. "I kinda feel like I'm holding an entire bike on the back of my shoulders. If I move, it'll crush me completely."
"I can see you," Noelle said, peering through gaps in the pile-up. She looked at me. "How strong are you, Mari?"
"Uh, not strong enough to move a whole bike myself."
She stood up, stuck her fingers into her mouth to let out a sharp whistle, then waved at her fellow dirt bike riders in the distance. "Hey! We could use some muscle over here!"
A team of four came over, and with careful maneuvering and Larkan talking us through, they were able to lift the bike off of him.
"Don't move," I warned the facedown man with his forearms braced on the ground.
He wore no cut, and his shirt was bloody, covered in dirt and ripped to shreds. It looked like he went skidding with the bike when it went down.
"Your shoulder's dislocated," I observed. "Your other one looks fine, but I have to pop this one back into place. This is going to hurt, okay?"
"Okay," he panted.
"On three. One, two—"
"Ahhh, fuck!"
