Chapter 3
By Julie
The sequence of
events immediately following the gunshot happened in just seconds, but to Nick,
it seemed like an eternity. As if in
slow motion, he watched Nate, the gunman, whirl around, his gun drawn, as Brian
charged towards him. Then came the shot,
a sharp explosion that made Nick’s ears ring.
And then, with horror, he saw Brian stop in mid-run, stagger back, and
collapse to the ground, his head cracking against the tiled floor with a dull
thud.
After that, the
eerie slow motion effect went away, and time began to pass normally again. Nick jerked himself out of his stupor and
instinctively ran over to his fallen friend, not thinking or caring about the
possible consequences, not remembering there was still an armed robber standing
just feet from Brian. He threw himself
to the ground next to Brian, who was writhing in agony on the floor, his hands
cupped tightly over his stomach.
“Brian!” he
cried. “Bri, let me see. Let me see; how bad is it?”
He already knew it
was bad – in a matter of seconds, Brian’s face had turned white as a sheet and
was already covered with a film of perspiration – but he had to see the wound
for himself. Gently, he pried Brian’s
hands away from his abdomen. There was a small, round hole in Brian’s zipped
jacket, but that was it. No blood,
yet. Hoping the jacket had somehow
cushioned the bullet, Nick carefully unzipped Brian’s jacket. There was a similar hole in the long-sleeved
Kentucky Wildcats t-shirt Brian had been wearing, and a ring of blood was
already showing around it, staining the gray material dark crimson. With shaking hands, he took hold of the hem
of Brian’s shirt and gingerly pulled it upward to get a good look at the wound
itself. Immediately, he wished he
hadn’t. In Brian’s skin, there was a
third hole, and blood was flowing freely from it in an endless spout.
Nick’s stomach
turned, and he clapped his hands over his mouth, afraid he was going to be
sick.
“Is is… bad?” came
Brian’s choked-sounding voice.
Nick could not
answer. His whole body had suddenly
gotten very hot, and he could feel beads of clammy sweat running slowly between
his shoulder blades. And the room – it
looked unnaturally bright and seemed to be spinning. And then, from the corners in, things began
to turn black, as if walls of darkness were closing in on him.
From far away, it
seemed, he heard voices.
“Nate! Why did you do that?” a female
screeched. “What if he dies?! We’ll get charged for murder! You weren’t supposed to kill anybody!”
“It was
self-defense!” a man cried in protest.
“That guy was coming at him; he had to protect himself!”
“Yeah!” agreed a
second man, obviously Nate.
“Self-defense!”
“That’ll never fly
in court, and you know it!” cried the woman.
And then came a
different woman’s voice, this one coming from right behind Nick. “You’re hyperventilating. Sit down before you pass out.” He wondered vaguely who she was talking
to. Then, feeling a pair of hands on his
shoulders, he realized she must mean him.
The hands pressed down firmly, and dizzily, Nick sank from his knees to
the floor. “Put your head between your
knees,” the voice instructed, and Nick, closing his eyes tightly to keep the
distorted room from spinning, obeyed.
***
As soon as she got
over the initial shock of seeing a man get shot before her very eyes, Ella’s
medical student instincts kicked in, and she pushed her panic down to a little
place deep within her. Carefully laying
the old woman – who was still passed out cold – down on the floor, Ella jumped
to action, rushing over to where the man was lying. His friend – “Asshole” – had hurtled over to
him as well and was now kneeling beside him, unzipping his jacket.
Ella stood behind
him and watched as he lifted the man’s t-shirt up. She could not help but feel her own stomach
churn as she saw the bloody gunshot wound on his abdomen, but she had seen them
before during her Emergency Room rotation.
She had also seen people hyperventilate, and that was exactly what the
blonde friend seemed to be doing now. He
was breathing in rapid pants, and his face had turned to ash.
“You’re
hyperventilating,” she said. “Sit down
before you pass out.” He swayed a bit on
his knees, and she put her hands on his shoulders to steady him, then eased him
all the way down to the floor. “Put your
head between your knees,” she told him, and when he did, she turned back to his
friend.
“Nick? What happened to Nick?” he was asking, his
eyes wide with a mix of pain and fright.
“He’ll be fine; he
just needs to sit down a minute,” she told him promptly. “Now, listen, I’m going to help you, so don’t
worry. It’s going to be okay.”
***
