Page 2 of Playing the Game
“He’ll die if you take me away from him.” I peer into ayoung officer’s eyes. “If you want to help, get us to a hospital now!”
An ambulance arrives, speeding down the walkway toward us. Another one follows. They get close and stop. Two teams of first responders jump from the vans.
One group runs to Jami. They work on him as they strap him to a board while yelling orders and descriptions of his body. They cut off his jacket and tear his shirt open. His tattoos are barely noticeable because of the blood.
“Victim appears to be shot in the chest.” The paramedic pries open Jami’s eyes and shines a small flashlight. “He’s unresponsive. We’re losing him.”
“No, you’re not. He wouldn’t leave me like this.” I crawl to him, only for someone to pull me away.
The other team of responders surrounds me. They ask me all sorts of questions, but I’m only focused on Jami.
“Gunshot wound to the right pectoral region confirmed.” The male paramedic pushes Jami’s hair over. “Another to the right side of his head.”
He’s lifted off the ground and taken away. I fight to follow, but the team working on me forces me to stay. Jami disappears into the ambulance and the vehicle speeds away.
Seconds later, I’m lying on a board and being strapped down. My screams for Jami ring out.
Tears stream from my eyes as the paramedics work on my shoulder. A young woman with her black hair in a ponytail focuses on me.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“Dori. Is Jami okay?”
“They’re doing all they can for him, Dori. You have a flesh wound on the top of your shoulder. We’re going to clean it up and stitch you up. You’ll be as good as new in no time.” She offers me a gentle smile and goes on about her duties.
My limbs are numb. All I can think of is Jami.
He was shot in the chest and head. My rib cage hollowsout. Knowing he’s been shot gives me little hope, but for his sake, I keep praying he’ll be okay.
The ride to the hospital is a blur. I try to piece together what happened, but nothing makes sense.
Why would anyone want to hurt Jami?
Hunter is the only person I can think of, but he wouldn’t do this. He might have issues with Jami, but he would never shoot him.
As I’m being rolled into the emergency department on a gurney, a team of doctors and nurses scurry around the room where Jami is. They call out for medical devices and bags of blood while I’m transferred to a small bed in one of the other areas.
The walls are made of curtains, so the shouts and orders of the staff working on Jami are clear as nurses fly in and out of that area. From what I understand, he’s hanging on by a thread.
I send mental messages to Jami, telling him to hang on and fight to stay with me. Since I only need stitches in my upper left shoulder, I’m left with one nurse taking care of me.
“Dori, I’m going to be with you for a while. We need to rinse your wound and clean it out. Once that’s done, we’ll get you stitched up. Before I start, can you verify that you’re not hurt elsewhere?”
“Not that I know of. I think it’s just my shoulder.” I glance down at it.
The shirt I’m wearing under my vest has the sleeve cut off. The flesh on the top of my arm looks like a giant nail gouged it. It’s only now I sense the throbbing of my injury.
“Alright then. Let’s get you cleaned up. If you can lie on your side, I can get to this easier.” She turns me and helps me lie down. “Do you know the gentleman who was involved in the incident?”
“Yes. His name is Jamison Stone.” My words come out flat and monotone.
“Does he have family we need to contact to let them know he’s here?” She starts to clean my arm.
Agony reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart. “No. I’m his only contact. Well, my brother is too. We’re the only family he has.”
“What’s your relation?”
“Jami’s my boyfriend. I’ve known him since I was ten.”
