In Which Jo Takes Two to the Chest
It all happened so fast. That thought hit Jo just as she hit the side walk, gasping for breath through the two bullet holes in her chest. She had heard those words from witnesses and victims since her first day in uniform and she had only sort of believed them. Things couldn’t happen so fast people couldn’t see something, but now she knew they could and did.
She was just taking Ford for one last walk before bed. It was a nice night out, balmy with the promise of summer. There was no harm in taking the long way home from the park. It was just an extra block and it was so nice out. She didn’t think twice, didn’t feel anything could go this wrong in just going an extra block. That extra block brought her right to the local mini-mart, right when the gunman burst from the front door. There was a brief second when their eyes locked, hers surprised, his terrified, and then the gunshots.
They felt like two punches when they hit her, only the pain went deeper, felt hotter than that. She was down before the realization hit her. She’d been shot twice in the chest. Now she lay on the sidewalk just a few feet from her home, from Sam, bleeding out.
Someone was screaming. It sounded like a woman. Jo tried to tell the woman to call 911, but when she spoke all that came out was a croak and a cough, spraying blood into the air. She could taste it now, coppery and sweet, in the back of her throat. It seeped from her chest and back, staining her shirt and the sidewalk underneath her. It was cold too, felt cold and sticky against her skin.
This was what happened to her dad, she realized as she tried to drag air into her lungs, past the blood and the pain. He must have gone through the same thing, except John Winchester had been there with a police radio to call for help. She just had this screaming woman and Ford who was barking up a storm. She was probably going to die just a few feet from home. Damn.
“Oh, oh, man, oh shit.” Suddenly a man appeared over her. He looked panicked for a second then yanked off his shirt and pressed it hard against her chest. “Okay, okay, um, hey lady! Call 911! Call 911!”
A good Samaritan? Jo would have laughed if she could. Did this scruffy, nerdy looking guy really think his HULK t-shirt could keep her from bleeding out? She didn’t stand a chance.
“Okay, okay,” the man kept up pressure and it hurt, but that was just a little more pain on top of everything else. She didn’t even really notice the new note. “Hey, hey, um, I’m Eddy, um Ed, Ed Zeddmore uh, what’s your name? Shit, you probably can’t talk. Don’t talk! Don’t, just um, keep breathing. That lady’s calling 911, so you know, the ambulance will be here soon…”
He didn’t sound so sure and Jo didn’t think it would matter. She knew the response times and she had already been lying here for what felt like an eternity. They weren’t going to make it soon enough. No good-bye to her mom, no good-bye to Sam. Hopefully someone would get Ford home. Hopefully someone would keep Sam from going back to drugs. Hopefully someone saw something so they’d catch the guy who shot her, but she doubted it.
It all happened so fast.
She was just taking Ford for one last walk before bed. It was a nice night out, balmy with the promise of summer. There was no harm in taking the long way home from the park. It was just an extra block and it was so nice out. She didn’t think twice, didn’t feel anything could go this wrong in just going an extra block. That extra block brought her right to the local mini-mart, right when the gunman burst from the front door. There was a brief second when their eyes locked, hers surprised, his terrified, and then the gunshots.
They felt like two punches when they hit her, only the pain went deeper, felt hotter than that. She was down before the realization hit her. She’d been shot twice in the chest. Now she lay on the sidewalk just a few feet from her home, from Sam, bleeding out.
Someone was screaming. It sounded like a woman. Jo tried to tell the woman to call 911, but when she spoke all that came out was a croak and a cough, spraying blood into the air. She could taste it now, coppery and sweet, in the back of her throat. It seeped from her chest and back, staining her shirt and the sidewalk underneath her. It was cold too, felt cold and sticky against her skin.
This was what happened to her dad, she realized as she tried to drag air into her lungs, past the blood and the pain. He must have gone through the same thing, except John Winchester had been there with a police radio to call for help. She just had this screaming woman and Ford who was barking up a storm. She was probably going to die just a few feet from home. Damn.
“Oh, oh, man, oh shit.” Suddenly a man appeared over her. He looked panicked for a second then yanked off his shirt and pressed it hard against her chest. “Okay, okay, um, hey lady! Call 911! Call 911!”
A good Samaritan? Jo would have laughed if she could. Did this scruffy, nerdy looking guy really think his HULK t-shirt could keep her from bleeding out? She didn’t stand a chance.
“Okay, okay,” the man kept up pressure and it hurt, but that was just a little more pain on top of everything else. She didn’t even really notice the new note. “Hey, hey, um, I’m Eddy, um Ed, Ed Zeddmore uh, what’s your name? Shit, you probably can’t talk. Don’t talk! Don’t, just um, keep breathing. That lady’s calling 911, so you know, the ambulance will be here soon…”
He didn’t sound so sure and Jo didn’t think it would matter. She knew the response times and she had already been lying here for what felt like an eternity. They weren’t going to make it soon enough. No good-bye to her mom, no good-bye to Sam. Hopefully someone would get Ford home. Hopefully someone would keep Sam from going back to drugs. Hopefully someone saw something so they’d catch the guy who shot her, but she doubted it.
It all happened so fast.