Unlike his other words, these parting ones seem heated—almost harsh. I don’t ponder their meaning until he’s disappeared into the trees, and I realize I haven’t moved at all.
Shame clots in my chest, thick and aching.
I want more.
I’ve missed this. God—this feeling.
I should have dragged him with me. I should have followed him to his place. Why’d I let him go?
I’m swamped by hunger—sharp, familiar. Wolf’s teeth on my own heart. Want.
I psych myself out, taking breaths so big they start to feel like not enough. I scrub my face with my hands and I look up at the pale blue sky through a web of craggy limbs.
He doesn’t need you. You’re the problem.
Check on him. You can. You should.
* * *
Barrett
I make it almost to the house before the chaos in my head and the echo in my body take me down.
I feel the dirt under my knees. I press the shirt against my head.
“You think you can walk, man?”
Is that Breck? I can’t see…
“Bear, get up, we’ve gotta go!”
The frenzied du-du-du-du-du of small arms fire is everywhere. Low shouting. The pop of metal on metal. I hear something snapping. Something…roaring. Rounds and more rounds. I’m not sure where I am, but it’s fucking hot. Not just ‘happening’ hot. Hot hot, too.
I start to cough. My throat and nostrils sting. Someone is pulling on me. I can’t open my eyes. They’re clamped shut…with something sticky.
“C’mon, bro—or I’ll have to carry your big ass!”
That is Breck. I lift my left arm and try to wipe my eyes but—
“Fuck!” I sag back to the ground, gasping. Something’s in my shoulder. My arm… “FUCK!”
I feel his hand rub over my eyes, hear him firing. I can smell smoke…really strong.
“My eyes,” I rasp.
“Fuck your giant, heavy ass…” But Breck gets me up. Everything is smeared and there are bright flames. Lots of smoke. Despite its thickness, I feel my head clearing.
I try to reach for my eyes once more, too addled to remember— “Aughh!”
“Fuck, you’ve got some shrapnel, man. Don’t move your arm! Let’s go!” I hear gunfire again and feel Breck’s arm and realize that I’m walking. He’s got me between him and one of the alley’s sides, and he’s covering for both of us.
That won’t fucking do.
I spit into my right hand, smear it over my eyes, lift my SR25 to my right shoulder, and start firing rightie, since I can’t seem to use my left arm. I try to keep up with Breck, who’s jogging slow for me. My shoulder hurts like fuck with every step. My head aches, too. I don’t know where we are, but that’s a problem I don’t have time for yet, so I just follow Breck. I’ve got a fuck ton of ammo on me still, so I spray the fucking alley, aiming upward at the windows.
“We got a ride?” I shout.
“Half a block,” Breck says. “Hey, man… Stop firing for a second. I think that’s— No. Okay. Fuck.” I hear Breck fire, feel it bump the air against the alley wall beside me. I can’t fucking see. My left eye…