It
took everything I had in me to haul myself up out of the marina. I don't
know where I got the energy; all my strength seemed to be leaking
out, draining through the hole Ralph had put in me.
Somehow I found myself on my feet—swaying like a drunk on a see-saw. All I could think to do was find Jimmy before the wise guys finished the job, though I knew I was leaving a trail of blood and wet footprints on the pavement.
Just in case you didn't know this: saltwater does NOT feel good in an open gunshot wound!