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He is here to save me. I’m not alone. Luka came to save me.
Before I can fully grasp the reality, Luka spins and shoots the first of the Irish soldiers who have suddenly raced around the corner to where the three of us are standing. The man falls instantly, but then another shot rings out, and Luka’s body twists unnaturally. He falls to one knee, wincing in pain, and though I can’t see the blood because of his black shirt, I know he has been hit. He spins to fire back at the man who shot him, but his range of motion seems to be limited. That is when I notice the bandage peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. His shoulder is wounded, making his reactions a little slower.
He fires and the man ducks behind a pillar, giving him time to get back to his feet.
Blood is pooling around my father’s body, and I have to step through it to get to him. He is gasping for air like a fish out of water, his mouth puckering with each breath. He looks up at me as I approach, but I don’t make eye contact. He isn’t worth it, and I don’t have time.
I pull up his shirt and grab the gun at his waist. The gun he was too cocky to pull out and aim at Luka. He whimpers as I take it, but I ignore him.
Luka is yelling for me to stay back, telling me to hide, but then the soldier pops out from behind the pillar and fires again. Luka cries out and falls.
I don’t know where he has been hit or if it is fatal. All I know is that the Irish man in front of me shot at the father of my child. He shot at the man I have come to love. And I will stop at nothing to make him pay.
I’ve only handled a gun a few times in my life, but I feel perfectly at ease as I raise the weapon and begin to fire. One shot after another after another. I keep pulling the trigger as I approach him until, finally, he darts out from behind the pillar to find a better shield, and one of my bullets finds his chest.
I’m at Luka’s side before the man’s body hits the ground.
My body is weak and shaky from lack of water and food, but I find the strength to wrap an arm around his back and haul Luka to his feet. He limps with me through the doors of the warehouse and into his car.
Once he is sitting in the passenger seat, I see the blood smears on the leather cushion and across my clothes. My hands are covered in blood, and his usually tan face is pale.
“What now?” I ask. I want to take him to the hospital, but there could be too many questions. Once police get involved, things could become problematic.
He directs me down side roads, his voice growing weaker with every turn, while tapping out a string of messages on his phone. The longer I drive, the more the phone slips in his grip. I can see him slouching down in his seat, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if he falls unconscious.
“How much further? I don’t know where I’m going, so you have to stay awake.”
“I’m fine.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it, and when I look over, his eyes are unfocused.
“Don’t leave me alone right now,” I say. “Not like you did the last few weeks. Don’t leave me again. Stay with me.”
His eyes flutter, and I can tell he is fighting it. So, I give him something to fight for.
“None of this would have happened if you’d believed me from the start, you know that? You are about to die because of your own pride.” He turns his head towards me, but his eyes are still looking through the windshield. I lightly slap his cheek with the back of my hand. “Don’t pass out just to escape the fight, Luka. I have a lot of things I’d like to say to you, and it would be a real shame if you died before I could get it off my chest. Keep your eyes open.”
His mouth turns up in a half-smile, and I wonder what he is hearing right now. Because it can’t be me ranting and raving at him while he is bleeding out next to me. “If you are seeing a bright light right now, so help me.”
He blinks slowly like it is a video being played in slow motion. For several long seconds, I don’t know if he is going to open his eyes again. I mentally curse, but try to stay calm. “Luka. Please keep your eyes open. Please. I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Turn right,” he says, opening one eye and pointing with a weak hand at the next corner. “The gray house on the corner.”
I see the house, and I slam on the gas, trying to get us there as quickly as possible. The acceleration of the car sends Luka’s hand slamming back against the head rest. He is too weak to keep himself upright.
“Hang in there. We’re almost there.”
He mumbles something I don’t understand, and the panic in my chest ratchets up a notch. “Luka.” I reach out and grab his hand. His fingers are cool in mine. “Luka, I love you, okay? Please don’t fall asleep. We are here now. Open your eyes. I love you.”
The words are panicked and scared, but no less true. I do love him. More than I ever thought possible, and the idea of losing him like this is unbearable. He doesn’t open his eyes or move, and I screech to a stop in front of the house and get out of the car. I fumble with the passenger handle before finally getting the door open. Luka slides out of his seat, and I catch him just before he can slip out of the car and land in the grass.
I hear the door to the house open and someone is cursing as they run across the grass towards us, but I just stroke his dark hair away from his pale face. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes as I lean forward and kiss his forehead.
He opens his mouth, a raspy breath coming out, and I bite back a sob. Then, his eyes flutter open, green like sunlight coming through a tree, and he looks at me. “I love you,” he says.
The words are quiet and broken and breathy, but they are there, and I cling to them as the doctor and I stumble and fall carrying Luka’s battered body onto the porch and into the house.
28
Eve
