each direction, Ryleigh launched herself from the illusion of a safe haven. Crouching low, she raced awkwardly toward the alley. Though her feet were bandaged, the local anesthetic had begun to wear off and each step sent a million shards of glass stabbing into her feet. When she reached the wall of the alley, she pressed her back against it, resisting the urge to slide down the wall and sit, to rest her feet for even the briefest moment, knowing she’d never get back up.
Squinting into the darkness, she strained to see if Jackson appeared to be breathing.
He lay curled in a ball on his side.
All right. She was going to have to get closer. With one last, anxious glance around, she headed for his lifeless form. She used the wall for support, tried to ease some of the pressure off her feet. Was he alive? She really, really didn’t want to find a corpse.
Images of his crooked smile and his mischievous eyes filled her mind.
Hesitation warred with impatience as she edged closer.
When she finally reached him, the coppery scent of blood assailed her. She knelt beside him, restraining a small sigh of relief at finally getting off her feet and alleviating the worst of the pain.
She held her breath and placed her hand against his chest. A heartbeat. A new flood of tears and a small sob escaped before she wrestled her emotions under control. He was alive. Now, how would she get him out of there?
She gingerly shook his shoulder. “Jackson.” The fierce whisper did nothing to elicit a response. She shook him again, a little harder this time. “Jackson. Wake up.” Still nothing. She thought of screaming for help but dismissed the idea just as quickly.
If his attacker realized he’d left Jackson alive, he might return.
Her blood ran cold, and a shiver coursed through her. All right, enough of this. She grabbed Jackson’s arm and shook him ruthlessly back and forth. When she called to him this time, it was no whisper. “Jackson, you have to wake up. Now.”
No response.
She hobbled to his head, turned him on his back, and grabbed him under both armpits. By the time she turned him around so his head faced the desired direction, she was soaked with sweat, breathing in short, harsh gasps that burned her throat, and bent at the waist with a stitch in her side. “I can’t do this, Jackson. You’re going to have to wake up. Please.” She bent to grab him again.
“Here, let me help.”
Mia. “I thought I told you to stay hidden.”
“You did, and later we can argue about it. Right now, let’s just get out of here.”
Ryleigh didn’t have the strength left to argue. Instead, she grabbed Jackson with both of her hands beneath one of his arms.
Mia did the same on his other side.
Together they dragged him to the bushes. They pulled, shoved, and pushed until they managed to conceal him beneath the cover.
They crawled in beside him. “We can’t pull him any farther. We’ll have to leave him hidden here and hope for the best until we can send help.” Ryleigh worked to slow her breathing. Tried to swallow, to soothe her parched throat, to no avail.
“Should we go back into the hospital for help?” Fear shone in Mia’s eyes.
“No. I won’t risk anyone asking questions about why we left in the first place.” She bent to examine Jackson’s head. “He bled a lot.” The memory of the blood pooled around his head sent a shiver rushing through her. “But it seems to have mostly stopped now.”
She ripped the tattered sleeves from her blouse folded one in a square, placed it against the wound at the back of his head, and used the other to tie it firmly in place. “There. I’ll make an anonymous 911 call as soon as we can and tell them I saw someone getting attacked and tossed in the bushes behind the hospital. Hopefully, he’ll be all right until then.”
She studied his face one last time, remembering the way his eyes had glimmered with humor, his smile had held a hint of mischief.
Something deep within
Squinting into the darkness, she strained to see if Jackson appeared to be breathing.
He lay curled in a ball on his side.
All right. She was going to have to get closer. With one last, anxious glance around, she headed for his lifeless form. She used the wall for support, tried to ease some of the pressure off her feet. Was he alive? She really, really didn’t want to find a corpse.
Images of his crooked smile and his mischievous eyes filled her mind.
Hesitation warred with impatience as she edged closer.
When she finally reached him, the coppery scent of blood assailed her. She knelt beside him, restraining a small sigh of relief at finally getting off her feet and alleviating the worst of the pain.
She held her breath and placed her hand against his chest. A heartbeat. A new flood of tears and a small sob escaped before she wrestled her emotions under control. He was alive. Now, how would she get him out of there?
She gingerly shook his shoulder. “Jackson.” The fierce whisper did nothing to elicit a response. She shook him again, a little harder this time. “Jackson. Wake up.” Still nothing. She thought of screaming for help but dismissed the idea just as quickly.
If his attacker realized he’d left Jackson alive, he might return.
Her blood ran cold, and a shiver coursed through her. All right, enough of this. She grabbed Jackson’s arm and shook him ruthlessly back and forth. When she called to him this time, it was no whisper. “Jackson, you have to wake up. Now.”
No response.
She hobbled to his head, turned him on his back, and grabbed him under both armpits. By the time she turned him around so his head faced the desired direction, she was soaked with sweat, breathing in short, harsh gasps that burned her throat, and bent at the waist with a stitch in her side. “I can’t do this, Jackson. You’re going to have to wake up. Please.” She bent to grab him again.
“Here, let me help.”
Mia. “I thought I told you to stay hidden.”
“You did, and later we can argue about it. Right now, let’s just get out of here.”
Ryleigh didn’t have the strength left to argue. Instead, she grabbed Jackson with both of her hands beneath one of his arms.
Mia did the same on his other side.
Together they dragged him to the bushes. They pulled, shoved, and pushed until they managed to conceal him beneath the cover.
They crawled in beside him. “We can’t pull him any farther. We’ll have to leave him hidden here and hope for the best until we can send help.” Ryleigh worked to slow her breathing. Tried to swallow, to soothe her parched throat, to no avail.
“Should we go back into the hospital for help?” Fear shone in Mia’s eyes.
“No. I won’t risk anyone asking questions about why we left in the first place.” She bent to examine Jackson’s head. “He bled a lot.” The memory of the blood pooled around his head sent a shiver rushing through her. “But it seems to have mostly stopped now.”
She ripped the tattered sleeves from her blouse folded one in a square, placed it against the wound at the back of his head, and used the other to tie it firmly in place. “There. I’ll make an anonymous 911 call as soon as we can and tell them I saw someone getting attacked and tossed in the bushes behind the hospital. Hopefully, he’ll be all right until then.”
She studied his face one last time, remembering the way his eyes had glimmered with humor, his smile had held a hint of mischief.
Something deep within
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