Page 34 of Wolf
“My shoulder feels like it’s on fire. I can’t move my leftarm.”
He looks up, wincing through his pain. “Can you see through the space in the curtains at thewindow?”
I fight the overwhelming urge to close my eyes, and tilt my head to one side, checking the curtain. “Yes, I can see outthere.”
“Keep your eyes on the bug catcher hanging down from the roof.” He pants out. “There’s some reflective tape on it. Do you seeit?”
I can’t focus, not when I see Thorne’s eyes droop closed. Not when it seems like every breath he inhales takes an immense amount of effort. There’s a pool of blood around his torso that spreads out and is soaking into everything, including my clothes. I don’t want to deal with what’s coming. I want to call 9-1-1 and get an ambulance to tend to him. My heart pumps hard as I remember seeing chest wounds like that. People don’t recover from dead hits like that, but I can’t think this way. He has to come back fromthis.
“Do you see the tape?” he shouts, pulling me from mythoughts.
“Yes, Ido.”
“When you see movement along that tape, squeeze myarm.”
“Okay.” I look over at him as he slides a burner phone from his pocket and hits twobuttons.
“Don’t say anotherword.”
We lie there, perfectly still, completely silent, waiting as our attacker closes in. I hear heavy feet taking tentative steps as they climb the front steps, then crossing the porch toward the front door. Towardus.
The distorted reflection of a person with short blond hair appears in the bug catcher tape, and I squeeze Thorne’s left arm with my right hand. He empties his clip dead center through the wooden door, and before the last bullet rings out, there’s a loud thud as the personfalls.
I don’t know how long we wait. Maybe a few seconds. There’s no way to tell whether or not the man outside is dead, or if he camealone.
“Is it over now?” I ask, groaning as the pain in my shoulder expands. My left arm has gone completely limp. I can’t moveit.
“You tellme.”
“What?”
“Check thetape.”
I look at the spot again. Part of the blond guy’s body is visible. He’s on the ground in a pool of blood around his head and neck. He’s not moving. Not even a little. Thorne’s shots at that upward angle must’ve hit the man in his neck orface.
“I think it’s over.” I find the burner phone in my pocket and pull it out. “I’m calling 9-1-1now.”
“No,” he breathes painfully. “Help’s on theway.”
I let my head drop to the floor, holding Thorne’s hand as I close myeyes.
“Good.” I say, weak from the blinding pain. “Howsoon?”
I wait for an answer that doesn’tcome.
“Thorne? Oh my God,Thorne.”
The deafening sound of an approaching chopper blocks out my cries as I try to wake himup.
It can’t be over. He can’t be gone. Not likethis.
The pain in my shoulder radiates through my chest and neck, making me lightheaded. I try to fight it, but my eyelids become too heavy to keep open. I really try, but my vision slowly fades, and goesblack.
21
Thorne
This is allwrong.
