Page 42 of Jackson's Redemption
“That’s still four miles away,” I said, trying to be logical. “You can’t carry me that far.”
He grunted. Which even in my panicked state, I could translate asbullshit. Then he was up and around me. There was no hesitation. No one, two, three warning. I heard the snap before the ripple of pain vibrated through my body.
Then his hands were underneath me and, with clean lift and jerk, I was free of the log. Blackness swamped my vision then there was nothing.
10
Jackson
I had her over my shoulder firefighter style. I tried to keep the part of her body where I had packed her shirt around the wound against my shoulder to keep pressure on it. But shit if I couldn’t feel the blood soaking through to my shirt already.
I considered stopping again. Maybe trying to seal it better. But I knew every minute counted. She was bleeding heavily and the only way to stop that was to get her to camp.
Pushing myself harder, I ran through the woods as controlled as I could so I didn’t fall. About a mile in I could feel the weight of her start to slow me down, but I pushed harder to keep my speed.
Then I stopped when I saw Mountain Man step out from a cluster of trees. Had he heard her screams? Did he just sense something was off in his woods? I didn’t know what was possible.
“Help! She’s wounded. I need help to carry her back to my truck.”
I don’t know if he heard what I said or simply understood the situation. He came forward and carefully we transferred her from my shoulder to his. Then together, we started moving.
He was bigger than I was, so he was making up ground at a faster clip. But without her weight, I had enough speed to keep up. Another mile down. I stopped him.
“I’m rested. I’ll take her now.”
He signed something, but I shook him off.
“She’s mine to carry. I’ll take her. Now!”
He didn’t fight me. We just made the transfer as quickly as possible. But he kept pace with me. Another mile behind us, he took her again while I followed.
Finally, we spotted the truck. I ran to it. It was unlocked as I wasn’t worried about car thieves in Hope’s Point. I opened the passenger seat and took her from Mountain Man.
Gently as I could I got her in the front seat. The piece of shirt I had packed against from the front of the wound was soaked through with her blood. Beside me, Mountain Man was taking off his flannel shirt he wore over a thermal T.
“Thank you,” I told him as it was big enough for me to wrap it around her completely putting a little more pressure on both the entry and exit wounds.
Kate’s head rolled against the seat as I eased it as far back as it would go, trying to take off the pressure. Then her eyes were open, but glassy as fuck and she reached out to clap my forearm.
“Jackson. Am I going to die?”
“You fucking die on me, I swear to God, I’ll go up to heaven and bring you the fuck back. You hear me. Now hang on.”
I didn’t spare another word, just hopped over the hood of the truck and got behind the wheel. I had to hardwire it but in a second, the engine turned over. I raised a hand to Mountain Man who raised his hand in return.
I hated how fucking grim he looked.
Kate was already unconscious again.
Then I set a world record time for getting us to camp. I just had to hope it wasn’t too late.
* * *
Dyson’s Camp
Jackson
I sat outside the medical room and waited. Because that’s all I could do. That and give blood. By the time I got her here, she was covered in her own blood, her pulse was reedy, and she was completely unconscious.
