Merritts of Writing 3

Chapter 4-1

Carter

It had been seven years since I’d experienced the mayhem and carnage of the aftermath of the canister attack. I hadn’t been able to run then, but I was now.

MOMENTS LATER

The exploding force of the mines Angie and Stevron had placed at the cave’s opening threw me forward. I fell to the ground and was back on my feet faster than I would have thought possible. I raced passed Dirk, too terrified to look at Em’s face as I ran by.

Instinct had me following Angie as she rushed into our medical tent. She flung off her helmet and began reaching for medical supplies. I grabbed what she hurriedly yanked out of a sack and thrust toward me. Gauze, tape, and a kit which contained various sizes of sutures, tweezers, scissors, and many other small instruments. I hugged the supplies to my chest.

As we exited the medical tent I saw Angie’s mouth moving. “Where’s Donahue? Where’s our medic?”

She glanced around and so did I.

Moe Donahue was the closest thing we had to any form of a medical doctor. He’d been part of a FR-PU, First Response-Personnel Unit, back before the canisters fell and was the best medic of any of the salvage crews the Sky family ran.

As Stevron came toward me I saw that he too had disposed of his helmet. He shook his head, then he nodded to Angie, before sprinting off to our right. I turned back to Angie. As much as she drove me crazy, I wasn’t going to say squat about her taking control. I saw her mouth my name and gesture with her chin for me to follow her.

Dirk still hauling Jam and Em was just steps behind us as we headed in Stevron’s direction. Stevron disappeared into my booth and reappeared seconds later with my portable table in his hands. He dropped it and waved Dirk over.

My eyes darted from Angie to Stevron and then back again. Everyone was shouting. Angie and Stevron were moving their heads too quickly for me to pick up the movement of their mouths. I didn’t need to hear or read their lips to know that they, like me, were in panic mode. It was obvious that we’d stumbled into the worse possible scenario we could have ever imagined.

I took a deep breath. My heart was racing.

I watched as Dirk eased Jam down onto the table I usually used as my command centre. It wasn’t very big, but that didn’t matter. The table wasn’t meant for Jam to lie on, it was meant for him to lean against.

I rushed to Em just as Dirk backed away and yanked his own helmet off. I laid the medical supplies on the table beside Jam’s right arm. Em was now covered in even more blood. Whether it was hers or her brother’s, I couldn’t tell.

I felt a hand grip my forearm. When I turned, Angie’s grip tightened. She started to move her lips very deliberately.

“Jam’s in pretty bad shape,” she told me. “He’s not going to stay conscious much longer. Em needs to stay awake. Keep her with us.”

I was too scared to speak, so I just nodded.

Angie gave me a split second smile, then she turned away and reached for the medical kit. I was no doctor, though my stitch work on wounds wasn’t half bad, so I shifted out of Angie’s way and raised my hands to Em’s head. Gently I removed her helmet. I tossed it aside and found my voice.

“Hey, Em,” I said. I tried to make my voice as calm and even as I could. “You did a great job in there. I’m really proud of you.”

Em turned her head toward my voice and I watched as she licked her blood spattered lips.

“Carter?” She blinked several times. “I can see.”