Chapter Two
Disclaimer: See chapter one. If you can't be bothered then I'm hoping you can't be bothered to sue me either.
Jarod wiggled deeper into the tiny space he was wedged in and prayed that they wouldn't find him. If they did he didn't have much of a chance- his leg was pounding in pain and bleeding freely. He just hoped that they would think that he had kept running instead of choosing to hide.
The sounds of infrequent swearing and footsteps finally faded away but he didn't move for a long time, mostly because he didn't think he could muster the strength. Eventually he hauled himself onto his unwounded leg and slowly hopped out.
A bent nail lying discarded on the floor freed him of the cuffs. Pausing for a moment to catch his increasingly short breath he salvaged a stray piece of wood to use as a crutch then contemplated his next course of action. He couldn't check into a hospital without the Centre pulling up outside within the hour. There was really no choice but to treat the wound himself.
He rolled up his pants to look at the bullet hole for the first time and groaned. There was no exit wound and the blood was spurting bright red. It was serious. He ripped a strip of his shirt and tied a tourniquet. Then, with great difficulty he made it out of the warehouse and towards a place where he hoped he could get what he needed without too many questions being asked.
*******************************
Parker rolled over and tried to find a more comfortable position on the cheap motel bed. It was no use; she couldn't sleep. Irritated she got up and pulled on some clothes. Something didn't feel right.
She couldn't think in the small room. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic she decided she was going for a walk. She picked up her 9mm and tucked into its holster then wrenched the door open and stalked out of the room. She took a deep breath of the cool night air then picked a direction at random and started walking.
All was silent as she passed the room that Lyle and Sam were sharing. Their flight back to Delaware had been overbooked so they had been forced to stay a night in the city.
Parker absentmindedly strolled through the streets, turning whichever way felt right. She didn't realise she was going somewhere almost until she was right outside the doors of the warehouse where they had lost Jarod.
Unable to stop herself, she entered the large building. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows from the streetlights outside and illuminated something she hadn't noticed earlier. There was a dark trail of dots and footprints tracking across the floor from the door that Jarod had come through.
Beginning to suspect that something had happened she followed it to find a large pool of it between a gap in the wool bales. She remembered the shot that Sam had let off. She had taken for granted that it had missed. Now she was worried. With the amount of blood that was here, Jarod might be seriously hurt. Whatever she claimed, she didn't want him dead. Most of the time, anyway.
She knew straightaway that he wouldn't have gone to a hospital. That would have led them straight to him. He would probably try and treat it himself. Trying to work on instinct and not think too hard she followed the path that Jarod would have taken.
Out of the warehouse and back onto the streets she went, trying to put herself into Jarod's shoes. Passing a row of shops empty of people with the late hour, she came to a seemingly abandoned building. She intuitively knew this was it.
The front door was unlocked. It was dark inside but she could see yellow light spilling out from a crack under a door. Cautiously she made her way towards it and put her ear against it. Faint sounds emanated through it. She put her hand on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. The scene inside made her heart jump.
Jarod looked up at her like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He was sitting on a bench against the wall opposite the door with one hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle full of a light amber liquid. The other hand was holding a wicked looking scalpel over the flame of a small gas oven.
"Good evening Miss Parker." He said in a slightly slurred voice.
"Jarod, what are you doing?" She replied, trying to hide her shock at actually finding him.
"Getting drunk enough that I can't feel it but not so drunk that I can't get the bullet out," he said, swaying slightly as he put the bottle and the scalpel down and braced against the wall to stand up. At least he tried to. Halfway up, the one leg he was standing on gave out and he sat down again. Parker got the feeling that it wasn't just the alcohol that stopped him from getting up. He looked weak from loss of blood.
He looked up at her and sighed. "Don't make me go back," he pleaded. She could see that he knew that he couldn't get away. She looked into his dark brown eyes and felt herself waver.
"What are you going to do with that scalpel?" She asked, avoiding his beseeching eyes.
"I have to get the bullet out then cauterise the wound."
"You can't stand and you're going to try and perform surgery? Jarod-" she paused, unsure what to do next.
He cocked his head on one side and looked at her then picked up the scalpel and stretched the injured leg up on the bench, a look of drunken determination on his face. Parker made up her mind.
She took her hand off her gun holster and strode purposefully across the room. "Let me help." He looked at her in surprise but he was in no condition to argue. Instead he took a deep swig of his drink and handed her the scalpel.
"Okay. You're going to have to talk me through this." She said, bending over to look at the hole in his leg.
********************************
Several hours later, Parker awoke to the deep rumble of a garbage truck outside. She had fallen asleep with her back propped against a wall. She looked over to where Jarod was sleeping still. He was curled in a foetal position on a pile of blankets on the floor.
The night's events came rushing into her head. She groaned. Her father would not be happy.
To be continued
Disclaimer: See chapter one. If you can't be bothered then I'm hoping you can't be bothered to sue me either.
Jarod wiggled deeper into the tiny space he was wedged in and prayed that they wouldn't find him. If they did he didn't have much of a chance- his leg was pounding in pain and bleeding freely. He just hoped that they would think that he had kept running instead of choosing to hide.
The sounds of infrequent swearing and footsteps finally faded away but he didn't move for a long time, mostly because he didn't think he could muster the strength. Eventually he hauled himself onto his unwounded leg and slowly hopped out.
A bent nail lying discarded on the floor freed him of the cuffs. Pausing for a moment to catch his increasingly short breath he salvaged a stray piece of wood to use as a crutch then contemplated his next course of action. He couldn't check into a hospital without the Centre pulling up outside within the hour. There was really no choice but to treat the wound himself.
He rolled up his pants to look at the bullet hole for the first time and groaned. There was no exit wound and the blood was spurting bright red. It was serious. He ripped a strip of his shirt and tied a tourniquet. Then, with great difficulty he made it out of the warehouse and towards a place where he hoped he could get what he needed without too many questions being asked.
*******************************
Parker rolled over and tried to find a more comfortable position on the cheap motel bed. It was no use; she couldn't sleep. Irritated she got up and pulled on some clothes. Something didn't feel right.
She couldn't think in the small room. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic she decided she was going for a walk. She picked up her 9mm and tucked into its holster then wrenched the door open and stalked out of the room. She took a deep breath of the cool night air then picked a direction at random and started walking.
All was silent as she passed the room that Lyle and Sam were sharing. Their flight back to Delaware had been overbooked so they had been forced to stay a night in the city.
Parker absentmindedly strolled through the streets, turning whichever way felt right. She didn't realise she was going somewhere almost until she was right outside the doors of the warehouse where they had lost Jarod.
Unable to stop herself, she entered the large building. Dim light filtered through the dusty windows from the streetlights outside and illuminated something she hadn't noticed earlier. There was a dark trail of dots and footprints tracking across the floor from the door that Jarod had come through.
Beginning to suspect that something had happened she followed it to find a large pool of it between a gap in the wool bales. She remembered the shot that Sam had let off. She had taken for granted that it had missed. Now she was worried. With the amount of blood that was here, Jarod might be seriously hurt. Whatever she claimed, she didn't want him dead. Most of the time, anyway.
She knew straightaway that he wouldn't have gone to a hospital. That would have led them straight to him. He would probably try and treat it himself. Trying to work on instinct and not think too hard she followed the path that Jarod would have taken.
Out of the warehouse and back onto the streets she went, trying to put herself into Jarod's shoes. Passing a row of shops empty of people with the late hour, she came to a seemingly abandoned building. She intuitively knew this was it.
The front door was unlocked. It was dark inside but she could see yellow light spilling out from a crack under a door. Cautiously she made her way towards it and put her ear against it. Faint sounds emanated through it. She put her hand on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. The scene inside made her heart jump.
Jarod looked up at her like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He was sitting on a bench against the wall opposite the door with one hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle full of a light amber liquid. The other hand was holding a wicked looking scalpel over the flame of a small gas oven.
"Good evening Miss Parker." He said in a slightly slurred voice.
"Jarod, what are you doing?" She replied, trying to hide her shock at actually finding him.
"Getting drunk enough that I can't feel it but not so drunk that I can't get the bullet out," he said, swaying slightly as he put the bottle and the scalpel down and braced against the wall to stand up. At least he tried to. Halfway up, the one leg he was standing on gave out and he sat down again. Parker got the feeling that it wasn't just the alcohol that stopped him from getting up. He looked weak from loss of blood.
He looked up at her and sighed. "Don't make me go back," he pleaded. She could see that he knew that he couldn't get away. She looked into his dark brown eyes and felt herself waver.
"What are you going to do with that scalpel?" She asked, avoiding his beseeching eyes.
"I have to get the bullet out then cauterise the wound."
"You can't stand and you're going to try and perform surgery? Jarod-" she paused, unsure what to do next.
He cocked his head on one side and looked at her then picked up the scalpel and stretched the injured leg up on the bench, a look of drunken determination on his face. Parker made up her mind.
She took her hand off her gun holster and strode purposefully across the room. "Let me help." He looked at her in surprise but he was in no condition to argue. Instead he took a deep swig of his drink and handed her the scalpel.
"Okay. You're going to have to talk me through this." She said, bending over to look at the hole in his leg.
********************************
Several hours later, Parker awoke to the deep rumble of a garbage truck outside. She had fallen asleep with her back propped against a wall. She looked over to where Jarod was sleeping still. He was curled in a foetal position on a pile of blankets on the floor.
The night's events came rushing into her head. She groaned. Her father would not be happy.
To be continued
