Chapter 16 #2
"Gonna have to jump," I shouted over the wind.
"Are you fucking crazy?" Mickey's voice cracked with terror.
"'Course I am. I'm Cajun. We're all crazy.
Now jump!" I half threw him over the railing as another wave lifted the boat, sending it crashing back down with bone-jarring force.
Mickey landed hard on the pier, rolling toward the edge like a sack of potatoes.
I leaped after him, catching his jacket just as he started to slide off the side.
The fabric stretched, threatening to tear as I pulled him back from a fifteen-foot drop into churning water that would have killed him in seconds.
Mickey thrashed against my grip, panic making him stupid. "I can't swim like this!"
"Then stop fighting," I snarled, yanking him upright and keeping a firm hold on his arm.
"Walk, or I carry you." I wasn't sure how I'd manage the latter, because now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, I felt all the cuts and slices I'd taken to my bare feet during the pursuit.
Each step was like walking on broken glass.
He chose to walk, though 'walking' was generous.
The wind hit us full force on the exposed pier, driving needles of rain sideways with enough force to sting like hail.
I had to grab the railing twice to keep us both from being blown over the side.
Mickey stumbled again, this time taking us both down to our knees.
My kneecap cracked against the weathered boards hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
"Get up," I growled, hauling him back to his feet with hands that were starting to shake from cold and exhaustion.
We fought our way forward step by agonizing step, the wind trying to push us back with each move we made.
My bare feet found every splinter and nail head in the weathered boards.
The rain was so heavy I could barely breathe without choking on water, and visibility was down to maybe ten feet on a good moment.
Mickey kept slipping on the slick surface.
His bound arms made it impossible to catch himself, forcing me to practically carry him, anyway.
A massive gust caught us broadside, strong enough to lift Mickey off his feet for a second.
I slammed him against a piling, shielding him with my body as debris whipped past—pieces of shingles, palm fronds, what looked like someone's patio furniture.
Something sharp caught my back, opening up a line of fire across my shoulder blade, but I held on until the gust passed.
"Move," I growled in his ear, shoving him forward again. There were still at least three blocks between here and the clinic, and the storm was getting worse by the minute.
Mickey's resistance had shifted from active fighting to dead weight, making the journey even harder.
He was dragging his feet, probably hoping I'd give up and let him go. My feet were completely numb now, probably bleeding from a dozen cuts, but I didn’t dare check.
Every second we stayed out here increased our chances of being killed by flying debris or swept away by the storm surge.
A loose shutter exploded off a nearby building, the metal frame spinning through the air like a giant throwing star.
I yanked Mickey down as wooden shards flew past, one piece embedding itself in a telephone pole inches from where his head had been.
He took advantage of my split-second distraction, ramming his shoulder into my sternum with everything he had left.
The rope burned through my hands as he bolted, his feet slipping and sliding on the wet pavement.
"Dammit!" I scrambled up, ignoring the stabbing pain in my feet and the fire in my lungs.
Mickey made it maybe three steps before a palm frond the size of a dinner table caught him square in the face, knocking him backwards like he'd been hit by a truck.
He sprawled on the pavement, his head bouncing off the asphalt with a sound that made me wince.
I pounced, driving my knee into his kidney hard enough to make him cry out.
He bucked weakly, but I had leverage this time.
"Try that again," I snarled, tightening the rope until he gasped, "and I'll hogtie you and drag you behind me like a sled."
The clinic was only half a block away now, its emergency lighting barely visible through the storm. I could probably manage to carry him that far if I had to, though my back was screaming and my feet felt like hamburger.
"Last chance," I said, hauling him up by his collar. "Walk, or I drag you by your ankles."
Apparently, that last fall had knocked most of the fight out of him.
Mickey stumbled forward like a broken puppet, his resistance finally crushed by the reality of the situation.
The last few yards to the clinic were a blur of wind and rain and pure determination until suddenly Gabi was there, wielding what looked like an IV pole like a quarterstaff.
She'd thrown on rain gear and boots at some point, looking like some kind of medical warrior.
"Get inside!" she shouted over the howling wind, her voice barely audible.
I half-dragged, half-carried my captive toward the door, Mickey's feet barely touching the ground. My legs were shaking with exhaustion, but we were almost there.
Gabi kept the pole trained on Mickey as we stumbled past, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and fury, then slammed the door against the howling wind with both hands.
The sudden quiet was almost deafening. Water pooled around us on the tile floor as she locked the door, her hands shaking slightly.
She whirled on me, brandishing the pole like she was ready to use it. "Are you fucking insane?"