Page 9

“John!” I bellow.

“Ade…”

God, yes, he sounds closer. I’m getting closer.

I see his boot first, then his leg.

The rest of him is partially trapped beneath a slab of broken masonry and what used to be part of the ceiling.

“John.”

His eyes find me.

Thank God.

They find me.

He’s alive.

But then I see the rest.

No.

No.

His uniform is dark from the stomach down.

Too dark.

There is blood everywhere.

His chest rises incorrectly, one side lagging behind the other. Something wet bubbles near his mouth when he breathes.

His face is gray beneath the dust.

“Hey,” I call, my voice beginning to shake. I drag myself beside him and drop, wedging my right shoulder under his arm. “Hey.” His eyelids flutter open, each eyelash coated in dust. “I’m here.”

He manages a ragged smile. “Couldn’t… hear.” He coughs, wet and rattling. “Everybody… good?”

I grasp his hand. It’s cold.

“Yeah,” I lie.

He tests a grin. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m good.” My own words surprise me. I can’t say it with certainty, but I think he believes me. When his eyes start to close again, I squeeze his hand harder. “Look at me, Blake,” I plead. He forces his eyes open. “Stay awake. You gotta stay awake.”

“Bossy.” He smiles weakly, making my throat burn.

“You like it,” I say back.

“Kammie,” he whispers, his eyes suddenly clear.

My heart stops. “Stay awake for him, John. Stay awake for Kammie.”

“He’s eight,” he murmurs.

“I know.”