Chapter 60
Austin
“You look like hell,” Rogers said before offering me morphine, which I declined.
He pulled what looked like a green cigar from his bag. “Here, suck on this; it’ll help with the pain.”
I sucked greedily, knowing the pain would continue to increase as the last of my adrenaline wore off. “She okay?”
“A few bruises, but I didn’t find any injuries.” Rogers eyed me up and down. “You, on the other hand, are fucked up beyond all recognition.”
I would’ve laughed at the joke, but I was fading fast. The tourniquet had stopped the blood loss, but I’d already lost a lot before G crushed my femoral artery and stemmed the flow.
“Blood type?” Rogers asked.
“O neg.”
“Go see if Sheppard has an O-type with him; let’s give them something to do,” Rogers said.
He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me back to the ground. “Lay back and suck on that like you’re giving head.”
My laugh, weak as it was, sent a jolt of pain through my ribs.
Fucking soldiers.
“Ribs?”
I pulled the inhaler out. “Broke.”
“Just like your nose,” Rogers said before radioing the guy he’d sent outside. “Bring a stretcher when you come back.”
I turned my head towards Nina while Rogers did a head to toe examination. Despite sucking on the pain killer filled ‘Green Whistle’ I couldn’t stop my grunts of pain as Rogers palpitated my flesh, looking for wounds he couldn’t see.
He sat back on his heels. “The good news is, your face will heal.”
But I may not walk again.
“Not walk again.” I said it so he didn’t have to.
“You don’t strike me as a quitter, so you’ll walk again, but the journey will be a bitch,” Rogers said
A guy escorting John carried in a soft canvas stretcher. John kneeled by my side, his face a red-tinted blur. “Thank God you’re alive,” he said, squeezing my uninjured shoulder.
Barely.
“I hear you need some blood.”
Words were too hard, so I nodded.
“Nina?” I grunted out, turning my head back to her.
They’d wrapped her in a blanket, and Gibson was holding her on his lap.
A surge of jealousy tried raging through me, but I lacked the strength and the mental conviction to maintain the feeling.
G was holding her unconscious body to keep her off the cold, hard floor. He’s trying to make her comfortable.
“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he promised.
Too late. I’d already let too many horrible things happen to her.
When I reached out for her, G scooted closer so I could hold her hand. “So sorry.” I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her if she’d give me the chance.
Just holding her hand soothed my soul and calmed my racing heart.
John rolled up his right sleeve. “Ready when you are, Doc.”
You can take the man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marines out of the man. John didn’t hesitate; he let a virtual stranger stick a needle in his vein and draw his blood. So many things could go wrong.
“Winchester, you need to calm down. I’ve done this more times than I care to remember,” Rogers’ deep voice was shockingly calming.
“Don’t worry, I donate regularly and I trust Rogers.”
Rogers prepped John’s arm and inserted the needle.
“Smooth and painless, just the way I like it,” John said. I assumed it was for my benefit. “I don’t think Robinson carries a transfusion kit in his medical bag, but I think I’ll have him add one.”
“With a universal donor on the team, it’d be a smart move,” Rogers said as he clamped the IV tube. “Sheppard’s ready,” Rogers said. “Taco, hold the bags.”
“Bags?”
“The other one is a saline solution,” Rogers answered while he prepped my arm, inserted the needle and removed the clamps.
John’s blood filled the line and would eventually give me back some of my lost vitality.
Not that I’d be running a marathon anytime soon, but at least I wouldn’t feel faint.
“That should do it.” Rogers clipped John’s IV line. “You’ve gained some color back.”
How could he tell? My face was black and blue and covered in blood.
After removing the needle from John’s arm, Rogers said, “Apply pressure.”
“What, no band aid?” John joked.
Rogers laughed and used medical tape to secure the gauze in place. “Let someone else drive and take it easy for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, sir,” John said, rolling his sleeve down over the makeshift band aid.
Rogers didn’t have to tell me to take it easy; no doubt the doctors would put me under the minute my ass was in a hospital bed. Or surgery table. The gory mess where my left knee used to be would need a team of surgeons to put it back together.
Gibson stood and moved aside so Rogers’ men could kneel along my side. When they’d prepped the canvas, Rogers said. “Winchester, we’re ready. Let us do the work.”
I nodded.
Rogers counted down from three.
I balled my fists and ground my teeth to hold back my scream. Even with the pain reliever in the inhaler, having my leg manhandled and being moved hurt like hell.
“I could give you morphine,” Rogers offered a second time.
“No.” I wanted, needed, to stay conscious until Nina was safely away from this hellhole. Not that I’d be useful if more threats appeared.
“We won’t let anything happen to either of you.”
“I know.”
“Still a no?”
I nodded and looked for Nina.
“He’s a tough guy for a paper pusher,” one of Rogers’ teammates said.
As they lifted me, I grunted out, “Fuck you.”
Gibson carried Nina while Rogers’ men carried me out to where the SSI team was waiting.
“We’re taking them to the nearest hospital,” John informed his team, sounding like he was talking through a tin can.
“Dude, you look like shit,” Jay said after he opened the back of the SUV and put the back seats down.
If only he could see the mess under the blanket.
“Sheppard, don’t,” G warned him as the Shepherd guys lifted me into the back.
“Nina.”
“She’ll be right behind you.”
“With me.” I tried sitting up, but the world started spinning and I fell back.
“Austin, I swear to you, we won’t let anything happen to her,” Gibson said.
Then I’d swear I heard him say, “Just do it,” before the world around me faded to black.