Part 30 (1/2)
I felt the phone in my hand, stared at it blankly. What was I supposed to do with this? Nick was unconscious.
Oh yeah, call Thresh.
I found his name under ”favorites” and called him. It rang twice.
”Thresh,” came his chasmic voice.
”Thresh...It's Nick. They shot Nick. He-Vitaly. He shot Nick.”
A pause. ”Who the h.e.l.l is Nick?”
I felt something hot and violent erupt inside me. ”HARRIS! NICHOLAS HARRIS! Your f.u.c.king boss! Nicholas G.o.dd.a.m.ned Harris, you f.u.c.king ape!”
”His name is Nick?” Thresh seemed truly baffled. ”Huh.”
”THREs.h.!.+”
He sounded utterly unmoved. ”Is he okay?”
”No, he's not f.u.c.king okay!” I screamed. ”He's dying! He took-it was-Vitaly was trying to kill me, and Nick-Harris, he-”
”That's what he does. It's who he is.” I heard a motorcycle engine roar to life. ”Have you gotten him medical attention?”
”Yes, I'm in an ambulance right now.”
”Where are you? Are you in Miami?”
”Yes, we're-” I turned to one of the medics. ”Where are we going? Which hospital?”
”Jackson Memorial,” came the terse answer.
”We're going to-” I started to relay.
”I heard. I'm ten minutes away. I'll meet you there.” The sound of the chopper engine being feathered. ”Layla, did Harris get him?”
”Yes. He shot him five times. Four in the chest, one in the shoulder.”
”Did he drop? Did you see Vitaly die?”
”No-he...he got away. He was shot five times, though. Could he-? He couldn't survive that, could he?”
”Never count a man dead unless you watch him die with your own eyes.” Thresh could have been discussing his breakfast cereal preference. ”Look, I'm gonna let you go. I'll see you in ten minutes. And Layla? Harris is the toughest motherf.u.c.ker I've ever met. One puny little bullet won't stop him for long. Okay? He'll be fine. He's survived worse.”
”It went straight through. He's bleeding from the chest and the back.”
”That's better, actually. It means the bullet isn't stuck inside him and didn't fragment. That's when s.h.i.+t gets nasty. A through-and-through is good news. Unless it stops his heart on the spot, f.u.c.king nothing will kill that man. I'm not worried at all.”
”You're not the one watching him bleed.”
”I have, though. I carried him over my shoulder fifty miles through the f.u.c.king rainforest, with a bullet lodged in his gut. He was screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder the whole way because the stomach acid was eating at the wound. I got f.u.c.king malaria carrying his bleeding carca.s.s to a doctor. I know how it feels. And I know he'll be fine. All right. Goodbye, Layla. I'll see you in a few minutes.” Click.
I don't know what happened next. It was all a jumble of images: the medics tending to Harris, doing whatever it was they had to do to keep him alive, Harris being pulled out of the ambulance, the clatter-clack of the stretcher's wheels locking open and into place. A hallway. A doctor-who looked all of twelve-in a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck and those weird bent medical scissors attached to his nametag lanyard. ER-style urgent medical shouting, something about BP and a single GSW and I didn't know what else. Doors closing in my face, hospital security trying to keep me out of the operating room, four or six pairs of hands holding me back as I screamed b.l.o.o.d.y murder.
Finally, huge paws, a giant's hands. Lifting me bodily, easily. Cradling me in burly arms like a baby, carrying me away. ”Easy now, girl. They gotta fix him. I'm here. I won't let anything happen. To you, or to him. He's going to be okay. I promise.” Thresh's voice in my ear was the rumble of diesel engine heard from far away, a grumbling trembling ba.s.s thunder.
I went limp and let him set me on a chair in the emergency room waiting area, hard plastic under my a.s.s. I fell asleep against Thresh's mountainous shoulder.
After an endless time-two or three hours at least-the same young doctor approached, looking tired and a lot older than my first estimation. He had to be sixteen, at least. He took a seat beside me. ”Miss Campari?”
”That's me.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms.
”Mr. Harris is going to be okay. He's got a long road ahead of him, a lot of healing to do. He won't be going anywhere for a long time, and he may never operate at the same capacity as he used to, but he'll live. Of course, judging based on the sheer number of scars on his body, not to mention his rather astounding medical record, he's an insanely tough human being. So I would guess he'll probably make a liar out of me. I'm hoping he will.”
”Can I see him?”
Thresh spoke up. ”There's only one correct answer here, Doc.” His voice carried a hard note of warning.
The doctor hesitated a moment, regarding Thresh coolly. ”He's resting at the moment. But if you promise to not disturb him, I don't see why you couldn't be in the room with him.” He stood. ”This way, please.”
We followed the doctor through a maze of hallways, the antiseptic smell acrid in my nostrils, steady beeping coming from the rooms we pa.s.sed; a male nurse in pale blue scrubs ran past us, dodging nimbly around us. The doctor stopped at a room, pulled open the sliding gla.s.s door, and tugged aside the curtain, revealing Harris in a bed, clad in a loose hospital gown.
I collapsed into the chair at his side, fighting tears at the sight of him: he had an oxygen cannula in his nose, an IV taped to his arm, a thin white blanket across his lower half. His right cheek had a bandage on it where he'd sc.r.a.ped it when he hit the pavement.
”He doesn't belong here. This is all wrong.” I wasn't sure what I meant even as I said it.
”No, he doesn't,” Thresh answered. ”But when he took the bullet to the stomach, they said he would need something like six months to heal. He was on his feet and running three miles within six weeks. Shouldn't have been possible, but Harris is...I swear he's not even human. The things I've seen him just shrug off like nothing would crush lesser men.”
”He's saved my life so many times already. He has to be okay.”
Thresh was quiet for a moment, waiting for the doctor to leave us alone. When he was gone, Thresh circled to the other side of the bed and stood staring down at Harris. ”When we were in the Rangers, we had a mission go belly-up. Just totally FUBAR. All our intel was wrong. We got ambushed, our unit was taking heavy casualties. He and I were pinned down, and I took three rounds. I was bleeding out, helpless. He returned fire and managed to slow the bleeding at the same time. And then he stood over my body and fought off the tangos, f.u.c.king twenty of them. Depleted mags, switched to his sidearm. And then he stood there over my body for the next sixty hours waiting for S-and-R to find us. f.u.c.k of it all was the mission was off the books. Volunteer only. Never happened. He should have gotten a Medal of Honor for that s.h.i.+t, but no one will ever know about it. The guys who never went home, only their wives and parents even remember their names.”
”What was the mission?”
”Terrorists were holed up in an orphanage. Had a whole bunch of kids held hostage.” Thresh went silent for a moment. ”We went in HALO insertion. Hit the ground weapons-free, immediately started taking fire. We lost three-quarters of the unit on that SNAFU, but we took down every single f.u.c.king one of those piece-of-s.h.i.+t motherf.u.c.kers. I personally double-tapped each one, just to make sure they were really dead. We thought we were home free, but the ambush hit us at the EZ. That's when I took the hits. The helo ate a rocket, leaving us stranded and surrounded. Which is when it got real f.u.c.king hairy. Harris is the only reason I'm here. And I will stand outside this room until we can move him somewhere off the grid.”
I had no idea what most of that even meant. Weapons-free, SNAFU, double-tapped, EZ...military mumbo-jumbo. What it meant, at the bottom of it all, was that Harris was a hero. I knew that, though. And I knew I felt better knowing Thresh was loyal to the death, and would be standing outside.
”You know how to get hold of Roth?” I asked.
Thresh grunted a wordless a.s.sent. ”Already did. He and Kyrie are en route. Alexei and Sasha are with them. With Vitaly wounded, we should be fine for a while. But I'm not taking any chances.”
”I want that man dead,” I snarled.
”All of us do. He's caused enough trouble. All of us are loyal to Harris, so hurting him was a big mistake. They woke the beast. Once we get you, Harris, and Kyrie and Roth somewhere safe, the s.h.i.+t's gonna get real f.u.c.king ugly for Vitaly.”
”I'll help you. s.h.i.+t, I'll pull the trigger myself.”