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“They had no idea who I was.” Then, he raises his gun and shoots a Reaper who just passed through the barn doors.
“We gotta get you outta here.” Rocco yells over the noise, but Titch shakes his head.
“I’m fine Prez. I’m sober. They didn’t see me pouring my drinks out when I went to take a leak or tossing the shots over my shoulder. I can stay and fight.”
Agreeing quickly, Rocco nods, and we run for the barn entrance.
The piercing crack of a rifle sounds a second before Rocco flies backward, and my whole fucking world slows and the sounds of war becomes muffled.
“No!” I yell, although it sounds distorted, even to my own ears, and I lurch back toward my Prez, where he’s now sprawled out in the dirt.
His eyes are wide with panic, his whole body shaking as he tries to speak, but he can’t seem to form words.
A bullet whizzing past my ear seems to snatch me out of the bubble I was in, and I spring into action, yelling to Titch.
“Help me move him!”
Titch darts to my side, where we each grab one of Rocco’s arms, and drag him back around the side of the barn, away from the fray.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Titch panics, and I shake my head, quickly assessing our Prez.
“Give me your shirt,” I snap, holding my hand out as I study the bleeding wound in Rocco’s pelvis.
“H-how b-bad i-is i-it?” he stammers but I shake my head.
“Just a fucking scratch.”
He tries to laugh and starts coughing as Titch tosses his shirt at me and I quickly press it to the gaping hole.
“S-such a f-fucking l-liar.” Rocco manages to get out, but I shake my head.
“I’m a fucking honest man,” I lie, and to Titch, I give him a look, which tells him that we are in real fucking trouble. “The truck is parked up on the road. Get up there and bring it in. We need to get him out.”
Nodding frantically, Titch leaps into action, running into the thick of the trees and I glance back down at Rocco’s pallid face.
“Tell C-Cara I’m s-sorry,” he rasps, and tears form in my eyes.
“I won’t have to. You can tell her yourself.”
“Gray. Stop.” He coughs, needing a moment before he can speak again as he slowly reaches under his shirt and pulls out a chain. “You know, and I k-know, I’m not walking away from t-this. G-give this to C-Cara for me.”
I focus on the chain and notice his wedding band dangling from it.
Shit.
“Don’t speak like that,” I hiss, getting in his face. “You’re fine. It’s just a fucking scratch, man. You can’t fucking leave me!”
I fail at keeping my tears at bay, and I can’t fucking swat them away because I’m too busy putting pressure on his wound.
“Gray, what the fuck are you do—” Tex trails off as his eyes lock onto our Prez, and he goes deathly pale.
“Tex. Tell Doug to blow the house now, and everyone needs to get ready to provide cover for the truck. Titch has gone to bring it in.”
Nodding quickly, he hesitates for a second, his eyes trained on our President, but he snaps out of it fast, and bolts away.
“L-leave me, Gray. I’ll slow you d-down.” Rocco’s voice is barely a whisper now, his lids getting heavy as he slowly blinks.
“We aren’t leaving without you!” I snap, giving him a nudge with my knee, when his eyes close. “Stay the fuck awake.”
