Jeremiah "Pain"
There was a knife twisting in his side as someone bore down on it with all their weight. Jeremiah reached for it, wanting to pull it out and maybe stick it into whoever was hurting him. But nothing was there. Just a heavy lump of fabric, then a hand grabbing his.
"Take it easy."
The voice was familiar, deep and warm. Kurdy.
"What--" Jeremiah couldn't get the words together. His mouth felt like dust. He couldn't think around the fire in his side. Anxiously, he tried to pull his hand free to get at the knife, but the hand holding his didn't loosen its grip.
"Leave the bandage alone, Jeremiah." Kurdy sounded tired. Maybe he was hurt, too? "You'll start the bleeding up again."
It wasn't the bandage that was the problem, it was the fucking knife. Couldn't Kurdy see that?
"You were shot, man. There's no knife. I think the bullet went clean through, too. It's got to hurt like hell, though."
Bullets didn't make sense. Neither did Kurdy leaving the knife in him, nor someone holding his hand. He hadn't held hands with anyone since Michael died. Jeremiah tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but his eyelids were too heavy.
"Listen," Kurdy said, which was hard because his voice kept fading in and out. "Jeremiah, listen to me, okay? We'll be at Thunder Mountain in a few hours. You're not hurt that bad; you can hang on until we get there. Hear me? Just a few more hours."
Jeremiah nodded, maybe. He intended to. The hand in his squeezed, and he held on as a wave of red crashed into his body and dragged him into black.
( next)
"Take it easy."
The voice was familiar, deep and warm. Kurdy.
"What--" Jeremiah couldn't get the words together. His mouth felt like dust. He couldn't think around the fire in his side. Anxiously, he tried to pull his hand free to get at the knife, but the hand holding his didn't loosen its grip.
"Leave the bandage alone, Jeremiah." Kurdy sounded tired. Maybe he was hurt, too? "You'll start the bleeding up again."
It wasn't the bandage that was the problem, it was the fucking knife. Couldn't Kurdy see that?
"You were shot, man. There's no knife. I think the bullet went clean through, too. It's got to hurt like hell, though."
Bullets didn't make sense. Neither did Kurdy leaving the knife in him, nor someone holding his hand. He hadn't held hands with anyone since Michael died. Jeremiah tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but his eyelids were too heavy.
"Listen," Kurdy said, which was hard because his voice kept fading in and out. "Jeremiah, listen to me, okay? We'll be at Thunder Mountain in a few hours. You're not hurt that bad; you can hang on until we get there. Hear me? Just a few more hours."
Jeremiah nodded, maybe. He intended to. The hand in his squeezed, and he held on as a wave of red crashed into his body and dragged him into black.
( next)