56. Claire
Chapter fifty-six
Claire
The world blurs around me as Kent pulls himself together and begins dishing out commands, none of which I hear. In the end, Rich and Rook go back to tend to the children. When he releases me, I scramble up the steps to where Remy lays, feeling through the blood for a sign of life.
I find it in his pulse, thrumming weakly in his wrist, and squeeze his hand as a sob escapes me.
“Help him!” I beg, glancing up at Michael, who’s already pressing his hands against one of the wounds as Kent drops behind the steering wheel.
Rich has already flipped him onto his back, and as Kent backs the bus into the night, the moonlight lets me see the spots where his shirt tore on impact. Guilt claws its way through me—the first bullet landed somewhere in his shoulder—dangerously close to his heart. The second looks like it nicked him in the side of his torso. If he’d had the vest on, if I had stayed on the plane the way he wanted me to…
“Put pressure on this one, Claire.” Michael instructs me, indicating the one on his stomach.
My fingers are clumsy over the fasteners of the vest, but I let it fall to the floor and strip my tank top over my head, balling the fabric up and passing it to Michael, before I take over for him. This one isn’t bleeding as heavily, so I press the heel of my palm against it the second Michael lifts his blood-covered hands away to tend the one at his shoulder, pressing my shirt against it .
“This is too much blood.” He mutters as the red spreads over the fabric, and I think it was supposed to be an internal thought, because when my eyes glance to his, he looks apologetic.
“He’s fine.” I say, my voice desperate as Kent guides the bus through rocky ground, bouncing us around violently. Remy’s head rolls, so I smooth my hand through his hair, ignoring the blood that’s already getting tacky and cold on my fingers. “He’ll be fine. Simon will get us to a hospital, and—”
“The bus can’t make it back the way we came. We can’t get to the plane, Claire.”
“I—” I open my mouth and close it, not sure exactly what he’s telling me. “Then Kent can—”
“It’s a three hour drive to the next town. He doesn’t have that long.”
My eyes burn—everything burns, but I force it down. “He’ll be fine. I don’t think it got any major organs and—”
He doesn’t tell me that it’s the blood loss he’s worried about. He’s opening his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “He’ll be fine.”
He has to be.
Michael nods slowly, turning to look out at the empty canyon stretching out around us. We’re so small in the vast space, just a little blip on the radar, and yet I feel like my world is glass, balancing on the tip of a blade. One wrong move, and it all shatters.
“You promised me,” I say, accusation and hysteria warring in my vocal chords. “You promised me, Remy, that you wouldn’t leave me alone in the dark. Don’t you dare fucking leave me.”
Michael avoids my eyes, which is just as well, because I press myself against Remy and just continue to talk to him, pleading, begging.
When Kent stops the bus, Michael looks confused.
“Move.” Kent orders, and I do, giving him the space he needs to drop down and assess the wounds. “Get her off the bus. ”
The second command is for Michael, who looks over at me, then back to Kent, waiting for further instruction.
“Get her off!” He repeats, glaring at the two of us. “Now!”
He’s pissed, and I can’t blame him. Remy is his friend, and despite whatever tension there has been between them lately, they’re close. And now Remy’s been shot—because I was wearing the vest that was meant for him.
“No!” I beg, trying to fight Michael off before his arms even close around me. But he’s stronger, and I’m covered in blood, so when he gets his hands on me, I can’t pry them off.
I throw my arms out, trying to grab hold of anything that will keep me from being separated from him. I imagine that the minute he gets me on the ground, they’re going to shut the door and take off, but instead, Michael keeps hold of me. His arms act as an anchor, weighing me down as a small light blooms inside the bus, and especially when I hear Remy’s scream.
It’s a sound that fills me simultaneously with hope and terror. The scream means he’s alive, he’s awake. But it’s clear he’s in agony.
Tears are flooding my face as I try to renew my fight, thrashing every which way to get out from under Michael’s grip, but he’s loyal to whoever calls the shots. Kent told him to get me off the bus, and he keeps me off of it even as I scream out for Remy, to tell him that I’m here, that it will be okay. I manage to deliver a sharp kick in the balls, and Michael lets go of me as he collapses forward to try and ease his own pain. But just as I’m darting up the steps, Kent and Remy fill the space.
His eyes are rolling, his face covered in a sheen of sweat, and Kent is supporting most of his weight with Remy’s arm around his neck. I scramble backwards, giving them the space to get down. The smell of burning flesh sizzles through the air, and I realize he removed Remy’s shirt. The burn marks on his chest are angry and shiny under the moonlight.
“Clean the bus up and get the kids on it.” Kent commands. “Rich will drive.”
My heart thrums faster as I look all around us. Michael nods, pushing up the steps.
“You’re with him,” Kent grunts, pushing past me.
“No.” I follow him, taking Remy’s other arm. He’s far taller than me, and I don’t think I succeed in helping take much of the burden off of Kent, but it illustrates my point. “I’m not leaving him.”
“You’re going to slow me down and cost him his life.” Kent growls. “Go with Michael. Help the children.”
The children.
“No. There’s three of them, they can handle the kids. I can’t leave him. I won’t.”
“I have to get him on the bike with me.” Kent huffs. I hadn’t even realized we’re nearly where we left the bikes, but now that I look back at where Michael is waiting on the bus, it makes sense. It’s a steep incline—we wouldn’t have made it up in the bus. No way a vehicle that big could have climbed up the rocky terrain. “And you can’t drive the bike, so…” He grits his teeth as we push higher. My legs burn, and Remy’s weight feels heavier than usual.
“I can do it.” I never even learned how to ride a bicycle, something that seemed so irrelevant until now. But it doesn’t matter. I watched Remy’s every move when I sat behind him. I can do this. I will.
“If you crash, I can’t stop and help you.” Kent lets out another growl as we reach the even ground, where the bikes wait for us. I hear his heavy breaths as I move in time with him.
“I wouldn’t want you to.” I tell him, helping him ease Remy over the front of the bike. His eyes meet with mine for one moment, and then he nods, as if he had any say. I scramble to the next bike, straddling it and familiarizing myself with the grips, lining my feet up with the bars.
A quick glance at Kent assures me I’ve got my form right, though he’s sitting further back given that Remy’s slumped in front of him. The purr of my bike joins with the roar of his as I turn it on. His hand moves over the bars, and then he takes off into the night.
It only takes me another few seconds before I twist the throttle, and the bike begins to move.
At first, I think I’m going to crash right at the outset. But then, I get my bearings, twisting the throttle to take me faster. I focus on his lights ahead of me and nothing else, pushing ahead despite the anxiety swirling in my stomach. The night doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did before, the air cooler as it slaps at my skin.
My grip on the handles eases as I begin to close the gap between Kent and I, a bit of the stress easing away as my confidence builds. Crashing and getting left behind in the desert or hitting my head and having my brains scattered around the canyon would suck, but the scariest thing I can imagine right now is losing him.
It’s all I can think about as we speed to the plane, faster, I think, than on the way there.
I will not lose him.
I can’t. We’ve been chasing each other since we met, orbiting in the same galaxy but never the same constellation. We’re finally on the same page.
The dark makes it hard to see and I’m relying on Kent’s memory, but after what feels like a brief eternity, the light from his bike illuminates the side of the plane, and I push forward faster until I close the distance. Braking proves to be a little harder than maintaining my balance, gravity pushing me forward so that I slam against the front of the bike and get the air knocked out of me for a second.
But then, I sling myself over the side and run to where Kent is already wrapping Remy around his shoulder. The lights bloom on, and I hear the engine whirring as Simon prepares for the getaway. I run ahead of Kent, to the cockpit, and beat on the door until it opens.
I’ve never met Simon, but I assume this is him. It’s not what I expected him to look like—a middle aged man with a bald head who looks suspiciously like Mr. Clean, earring and all .
“We need the closest hospital! Remy’s been shot.”
He looks at me, confused, and then his gaze flits behind me to where Kent is emerging at the top of the steps with Remy. He eases him into the nearest chair and then all but collapses, catching himself against the counter.
“Hospital.” He says, glancing at Simon. “Hurry.”
“Christ,” Simon mutters, shaking his head as he turns back to the safety of the cockpit. A moment later, his voice comes over the intercom. “Closest hospital I’d imagine is in Elko. It’s about forty minutes, give or take.”
“Take…” Kent mutters, just before he falls to the ground.