Page 92 of Theta

“Fucked.”

“Goddammit.” A pause as he works the backpack out from under me, finds the gauze by feel, and presses a wad of it to my wound. "You were supposed to fucking go, Story, goddammit. Go, as in escape this shit.”

Panting through a wave of agony, I grab his hand and squeeze through the pain, pressing the bandage to myself with the other. "You…you really think I'd…I'd leave you? In the-the middle of a gunfight? Bleeding?"

"You said you would."

"I tried. C-couldn't."

"And now look."

"Both…alive." I cough, and it fucking hurts. "Time?"

He turns my wrist—my watch is down to its last 1% of battery, the numerals glowing a dull red, the battery ring down to a tiny sliver. "Eleven-fifty."

"Ferry," I hiss. "Go."

"Not without you, dumbass."

I groan in irritation. "Go get him, dumbass."

"And leave you here?"

"Yes."

"Fuck no."

"Won't…won't make it in time. With me."

"Story—"

"Be for nothing. If—if you don't go meet your—your dealer buddy." Another wave of pain washes over me, and I scream again, or try to, at least, through the sharp slice of shattered ribs. "Go. Now."

With a long series of curses consisting of a good half-dozen variations of "fuck," Killian pushes to his feet. I hear the sound of a magazine being swapped, and then he puts a pistol in my hands. "Here."

I gesture with it. "Pull me over there. By the tire."

It's a slow process since he's hurt, too, but he gets me over to a trailer, propped up with my back to the massive dual wheel. The chrome center of the wheel is still warm from the day's blazing heat.

"Story, I—"

"I love you too. Now fucking go," I snap. "Gotta get off this island."

"Stay awake."

“Yeah."

"You're a badass, y'know that?"

His praise means more to me than I can handle at the moment, and I can't find an answer. "Go," I repeat. "Hurry."

I hear him lope off in a shambling, limping, shuffling run, and his shadow dissipates into the darkness.

I'm alone.

The silence is thick and profound.

Staying awake proves nearly impossible, which is a serious goddamned problem. I fight the black of unconsciousness for as long as I can, reciting titration tables, listing every medication I know and their possible side effects. I picture Killian with his mouth between my thighs.