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The blood rushes so fast through my body, I can’t hear anything else. I’m very aware that there’s still chaos surrounding me, but it’s all just a thumping, a throbbing through my body.
“Fuck you,” I hear Emma scream. “Assholes.”
She grabs my hand, the warmth of her body helping me to keep on my feet. My eyes might be blurry, but she’s leading the way.
“The car is here,” she hisses at me. “I think I’ve shot some of them. They weren’t ready for us to defend ourselves it seems. But we can’t stay here. Come on, Owen, we just need to get in. Then we can get away. Do you think that’s something you can do?”
I don’t know, so I just groan.
“Come on, Owen. I really do need you to help me out here.”
I hear the click of the door.
She’s a fucking miracle. Emma must have grabbed the car keys when she got the gun.
Quick thinking.
What the hell would I have done without her?
“Right, here. Take a seat. Let me get you in the back.”
I should drive.
I want to argue that because I know where we’re going, but since I can’t fucking see, I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.
“40.650002° North latitude and -73.949997° West,” I shout quickly. “Coordinates. Go to them.”
“Huh?”
“40.650002° North latitude and -73.949997° West. I have a safe house there. Use the GPS.”
I can feel myself slipping.
It’s like my consciousness is sliding through my fingers like grains of sand and I can’t grab a hold of myself however hard I try.
I hope Emma picked up what I was telling her, though, because I need us to get there.
No one knows about that safe house.
I don’t see how anyone could find it.
We need a place to be so I can recover from that fucking gunshot wound.
I can’t believe I got hurt by those assholes. Damn it, and I had to be saved by Emma, not the other way around. I should be the one protecting her.
“Pa… passcode.” I suddenly realize that I haven’t given her everything yet. She needs the code, but I don’t know if I’m speaking aloud or if this is just happening in my head. “The passcode to the house. 897111098.”
Did she hear me?
I’m not getting a reply.
But I don’t know if I can hear anything.
As I’m drifting in and out, another thought hits me. “A tracker. Not… not the one on your ankle. One on the car. We can’t be followed.”
Thank God. I know Emma hears me because the car screeches to a halt. She clambers out and I hear her outside the car in the dark.
I fucking hate this… I should be the one out there looking for this shit.
