Page 51 of Casualties of War
“You think I don’t know that, bitch?” He rammed the muzzle of the gun into her stomach and she coughed and bent over. “Move,” he growled, pointing with the gun.
Roldán straightened, breathing hard and walked around the back of the van in the direction hehad indicated. The man hefted Calli and followed.
More tires squealed. This time, it was a big Escalade with darkened windows, that came to a hard stop next to the minivan. The back door opened. Téra couldn’t see inside the vehicle because the minivan was in the way. She peered under the minivan and saw Roldán’s flat shoes and the man’s boots move between the two cars
“Get in,” the man snarled.
Roldán’s feet lifted and disappeared. Then the man’s. The door slammed. The Escalade squealed as it took off once more.
Far away, sirens sounded. The police, arriving far too late.
Téra patted Minnie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Minnie lifted her head. “Yes. Quickly, Téra, check Rubén. I think he was shot.” She got to her feet as the others with them rose to theirs. Around them, people werestill calling out and panicking.
Téra kicked off her shoes as Calli had done and winced at the heat of the pavement against her bare soles. She ran between the cars and around the still open door of the Camry. The door had a row of bullet holes stitched across the middle of the panel. Around the holes, gray undercoat and raw metal gleamed.
Her breath caught in her throat and her head swam. Téramade herself step around the door as the screaming and hysteria and sirens all grew muffled and distant. She gripped the door frame, her legs shaking.
Rubén sat up against the side of the car, his head back against the back door, his eyes closed. Both hands gripped his thigh. Below his hands, his jeans were black with soaked-in blood that gleamed wetly. The jeans had been ripped open by bullets.
“Rubén,” Téra whispered.
He opened his eyes. “Téra.” He tried to sit up and fell back. “Give me your belt. I have to tie this off.”
Téra couldn’t move. She stared at the hole in his jeans, as older memories flashed through her mind, playing over and over.
She had fired the gun, and it had hit Lucas in the leg, there. Just like that. The blood had flowed…
“Téra!” Rubén snapped.
She blinked.She was breathing as though she had finished a mile too quickly.
Rubén’s gaze was steady. Relentless. “Don’t drop into your head,” he told her. “Too many people need you right now. Minnie will need you.”
Téra swallowed. “I’m not wearing a belt,” she whispered.
“Mine, then. Only, you must get it. I can’t let go.”
The police sirens were getting closer, drowning out everything except the roarof a jet as it took off. People were moving on with their lives, ignorant of what had happened here. That left it up to Téra.
She dropped into a crouch beside Rubén and reached under his arm. The smell of blood was strong, making the memories flash again. Téra shook her head as she fumbled for the big square buckle of his belt. “You know, if you wanted me to undress you, you could have asked.There was no need to go this far.”
Rubén’s laugh was wheezy.
She yanked the belt out of the loops.
“Behind my hands,” he told her. “Thread the end into the buckle, then pull it tight.” His voice was weak.
She glanced at him as she worked. His eyes were glazed. Her heart thudded.
“I don’t twist it?” she asked, for she remembered seeing people use belts for tourniquets on TV and they had twistedthem.
“Vistarian leather. You aren’t strong enough to twist it,” he said. “Listen, Téra. You must tell the others. Adán Caballero is missing. I think he was taken, too. There might be others missing. Key people. Make sure they connect the dots.”
“You can tell them,” Téra said.
His breath whistled, wispy and soft. “I will pass out. You must keep up the pressure until…until…”
