My world exploded, and the last thing I saw before the ‘red haze’ set in was Lou’s blood spraying all over the white wall.
Except when the dust settled, and the gun that was peppering the wall above my head with bullets finally hit its end, I realized that there was wasn’t anyone ‘human’ shooting at us. Whomever had been here had escaped. The only thing left was an AK-47 rigged to fire once the tension on the door was relieved.
Something I’d done myself when I’d knocked the door through with the door knocker.
All of it had been for nothing.
I ran inside, shotgun up to my cheek and pointed at the gaping hole in the floor. Most likely where Quentin Ortiz had disappeared.
Dropping down to my knees beside Lou, I dropped down until my ear was next to his mouth.
I didn’t need to see his wounds to know it was serious.
It was beyond serious.
The AK-47 had nearly torn Lou in half since he’d been placed in front of the gun.
He’d fallen to the side at the last second, but it hadn’t helped. Not enough, at least.
He still had at least eight rounds lodged in his belly.
“The new wife,” Lou croaked. “That’s where he’s going to go. The new wife.”
I dropped my forehead down to Lou’s. “You’re going to be okay.”
He laughed, but started coughing before he even had the air out completely. “Don’t lie. Just take care of her. Promise.”
I was pushed to the side by the medics, unaware of when they’d arrived, but happy that the scene had been cleared and they had done it so fast.
“I will, Lou. I will. Now let them take care of you,” I said, getting to my feet.
He looked at me. Straight through me, actually.
“I’ll make it until I can say goodbye to her. Won’t go until then,” he croaked.
As they took him out of the room, I made a promise.
Nobody would ever know that Lou “The Shank” Rhodes wasn’t actually on shift that day. All they’d know was that he’d died a hero, and I’d make damn sure of it.***Blake
I dropped to my knees, the strength quickly draining from my upper legs as the past twenty minutes just played on repeat over and over again in my head. Had I done all that I could? What should I do now? Did my mom know? Would she even care?
I’d just had to listen as my daddy, the man I’d looked up to for my entire life, called in his own 911 call.
I, luckily, hadn’t been the one to catch the call.
It’d been Pauline.
But I’d heard the call go through, nonetheless.
It’d also been an officer distress call; which meant that while Pauline took the caller, I called in the backup and gave them real time information.
The door to dispatch was flung open, and my uncle, looking disheveled, threw himself through the open door.
He saw me there, on my knees, and immediately dropped to the floor beside me, gathering me into his arms.
“It’s going to be okay, honey,” he whispered. “Let’s go. We can make it to the hospital in ten minutes.”
“But Pauline will be by herself,” I cried.
He shook his head, hauling me to my feet as he stood. “Don’t worry about her. She’s got the hatch tightened down. She can handle it for ten minutes until the backup arrives.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say.
Pauline looked at me as I passed, still on the line with whomever she’d been talking to for the last ten minutes.
I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care.
My dad was shot, and was on the way to the hospital.
I knew, though.
I knew down deep that he wasn’t going to make it.
It would be a small miracle if we arrived and he was alive.
But I guess miracles did happen, because by the time I ran in the hospital doors behind Uncle Darren, and straight back to Trauma room one, he was alive.
But he didn’t look good.
At all.
“Daddy,” I breathed, looking at him.
The room surrounding him was a mess.
Nurses were slipping on my father’s blood that was pouring out of his chest at an alarming rate; the doctors were trying to staunch the flow with little success.
My daddy was looking right at me.
His hand, covered in old and new blood, extended out to me.
One lone finger crooked, and a sob caught in my throat.
I went to him.
I didn’t have a choice.
I’d never, ever not given him what he wanted.
“Hey,” a dark, pissed off voice said. “Get her out of here.”
I ignored the command, sidestepping another nurse, who slid and then fell on her ass in the blood at her feet.
I didn’t let my dad’s eyes go, though.
“Baby girl,” he rasped.
Blood ran from his mouth, and he coughed.
My eyes started to leak, and the tears I’d been holding back by sheer force of will finally spilled over.
“Daddy,” I pleaded, capturing his head with my face. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”
I wasn’t twenty four years old anymore. I was my daddy’s baby girl. His only girl. The same little girl that used to crawl into bed with him and snuggle into his side.
The same little girl that used to go shooting with him on the weekends for some father daughter time.
The girl who asked her father to prom because her boyfriend, at the time, had come down with a stomach virus.
The girl that was supposed to have her fairytale wedding…with her father walking her down the aisle.
The breath in my lungs hitched as I heard him gasp, then the life I saw there started to dwindle.
“Give me one more hug, baby girl. I love…” Then he was gone.
“No,” I cried. “Please. Fix him!”
It came out shrill, and devastated.
Everything that I was feeling in that moment was pushed into my words, and I knew I wasn’t being rational. No one could survive what he had gone through.
“Time of death 0202,” a saddened male voice said above me.
“Daddy,” I whispered. “God. Please don’t leave. Please.”
My voice was hoarse by the time I felt hands curl around my upper arms.