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Cole limped toward Malik as I scrambled over the fence, both of us reaching him at the same time.
“Don’t move him,” he warned me as his grizzled fingers felt for a pulse. “He’s breathing.”
“Malik?” I called out, wanting to roll him over so badly, but I knew Cole was right. We couldn’t move him yet. “Malik. Please be okay. Please.”
No response. Silence amid all the chaos around us, the worst fucking sound in the world.
“EMTs! Coming through! Make way!” Two guys in blue uniforms rushed forward.
“Thank God.” I briefly squeezed my eyes shut before letting Cole pull me back. “Save him. Please save him.”
“Let them work now, son. Malik got his bell rung pretty good, but I’ve seen worse.” Cole’s ominous tone wasn’t all that reassuring, especially as Malik didn’t respond to the EMT’s poking and prodding. The other EMT barked into his radio about the ETA of a Life Flight chopper, rattling off vital signs that sounded plenty dire to me.
Another EMT arrived on the scene toting a backboard and a gurney. Only the fact that I’d skipped dinner saved me from hurling as the three of them got Malik in a neck collar and stabilized on the backboard. I wanted to help. To do something, anything, and there was nothing I wouldn’t give to hear his voice. We could do all the talking he wanted if he just made it through this.
“Avery!” A tear-stained Tiffany jogged up. “I saw you leap the fence. Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m…” I couldn’t even begin to answer that question. “Malik. Malik’s hurt bad.”
“I know.” She wrapped both arms around me. “There’s a helicopter on the way already. I heard some other EMTs talking. There’s a crew over helping Andre and Liam. You probably saved Andre’s life getting them out of that building.”
“Good.” I couldn’t summon any happiness about that, worry clouding all my senses. All I could do was stand, flanked by Cole and Tiffany, and stare as the EMTs prepared Malik for transport. Each minute felt like a year of my life, and I’d never felt so helpless. I’d thought my own injury was the worst moment I’d ever have.
I’d been wrong.
The worst was watching the EMTs wheel Malik onto the chopper, watching as the helicopter disappeared into the night sky, with nothing to do but pray. My throat was rough from screaming and my eyes burned from smoke and tears.
This. This was definitely the worst.
“I’ve got to get to the hospital.”
“I know.” Tiffany held my arm. “They’re taking him and Andre into Denver.”
“Fuck.” That meant both were too bad off for the closer but smaller rural hospital. It also meant that much longer until I could reach Malik.
“I’ll drive.” Tiffany steered me away from the clearing where the helicopter had landed. “Let’s find Liam. Get you both to your men.”
I was so far beyond shattered that all I could do was nod.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Avery
Waiting was the worst. I’d spent the drive to Denver in a fugue state in the passenger seat, where the miles passed in a blur. Tiffany and Liam had chattered, mindless words to keep our minds off our dire mission, but the most I’d managed was the occasional yes or no response. I was busy trying to remember how to pray, and when that failed, outright bargaining with the universe, offering every damn thing I could think of that we’d arrive to good news at the hospital.
But apparently, the universe gave fuck-all for my offerings because all that awaited us was more fucking waiting.
“No news?” Tiffany returned from a late-night excursion to the hospital cafeteria to plop down next to me.
“No news.” I was too damn wrung out to look over at her. We’d had the barest of reports on Malik—he was alive, considered in critical condition, and medical staff was working on him somewhere behind the heavy ER doors, which kept taunting me. I could run a fucking grinder. Twenty miles with a pack. But I couldn’t run to Malik.
“You need to eat something. And drink.” Tiffany shoved a wrapped sandwich and a water bottle at me. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave a rusty laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I got myself something too, see?”
She held up a second sandwich, then unwrapped both of ours, leaving me little choice but to join her in trying to eat. Despite coming from a national chain I usually loved, the bread tasted like dry clay, vegetables caustic, and meat faintly metallic. Every bite reminded me of all the sandwiches I’d shared with Malik, all the late dinners after fooling around, and how damn sick of sandwiches we’d been by the end of filming. There was nothing I wouldn’t give to be back in that room with another sack of bland craft services offerings.
The fire wasn’t anyone’s fault and certainly wasn’t the result of my dodging Malik’s attempts to talk, but it sure as hell felt like I was being punished. I barely managed a third of the sandwich before my stomach started to rebel.
