Samantha arrived at the main plaza and surveyed the area. She didn't see Sands anywhere. She made her way around the plaza. Dead bodies were scattered here and there. She saw a small boy on the other side of the plaza and made her way toward him.
He was waving his arms at her and she wondered what he wanted with her. Then she saw him, lying on the ground beside the boy, not moving. It was Sands. She broke into a run. She dropped to her knees beside him.
"Sands!" she said franticly. There was no response. He wasn't moving. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. Oh, please God don't let me be too late, she thought to herself. She steeled herself for the possibility that he was dead and leaned over him and reached out her hand to touch his throat and try to find a pulse.
His right hand flew up and grabbed her wrist in a death grip. He was alive. Relief flooded over her. He was squeezing her wrist hard. That was good. He still had some strength. Then she heard his gun click as he cocked it, preparing to shoot her.
She responded to the threat immediately. "Sands, it's me, Samantha. I'm here."
She wondered why he didn't seem to know it was her. There was blood everywhere around him. He was obviously hurt very badly. She saw the bloody trails coming from under his sunglasses. What had happened to him, she wondered and why was there blood coming from his eyes? Couldn't he see her? Is that why he didn't know it was her? She didn't want to think of the possibilities.
Sands groaned and released his grip on her arm. She quickly looked him over. She could see at least three bullet entry wounds on his legs and arm. They were all bleeding profusely. She tore pieces of material off the bottom of her shirt and tied tourniquets above the wounds to stop the blood from flowing.
She looked at the boy who had concern written all over his face. He must have been helping Sands. She didn't know a word of Spanish and she cursed herself for not taking it in school.
"Taxi?" she asked him. The boy didn't respond.
She looked around. The area was deserted. There were no taxis to be found. She did see a couple of cars. She sprinted to the nearest one. She was suddenly glad that there were a lot of older cars in Mexico. That would make hotwiring this one easier. She opened the unlocked car door and got to work. At least one thing she had learned from the CIA would come in handy today, she thought.
The car roared to life and she drove it the short distance over to where Sands was lying. She jumped out and opened the back door. She grabbed Sands under the arms and dragged him over to the car and struggled to get him inside and on the seat. Sands muttered curses under his breath but didn't have the strength to help her.
The little boy jumped up and grabbed an arm and helped shove him onto the car seat.
"Thanks for helping him," she said to the boy. He nodded. She wasn't sure he understood her but she was grateful that the boy had been there for Sands. She handed him some money and jumped in the car and started driving.
Her mind was going a mile a minute. She knew that CIA protocol was not to go to the hospital with an injured agent but he was hurt so badly that she was afraid he would die if she didn't.
As if he read her mind, Sands said from the backseat, "No hospital."
"But Sands, you're hurt and I…"
"No hospital!" he said as loudly as he could muster.
Her hotel was nearby so she decided to bring him there.
"Sands, I'm taking you to my hotel. Do you think you can get from the car to the room?" She was glad that her room was on the ground floor of the hotel and there was parking near the door to her room.
"Yes," he hissed out, the pain evident in his voice.
She pulled into a parking spot just outside her hotel room door. She opened the rear car door and helped Sands to sit up and then put his right arm over her shoulder and helped him to his feet. He groaned in pain and could barely put any weight on his legs. She struggled with his dead weight but managed to make her way over to the hotel room door, unlock it and get him inside and onto the bed.
She called the front desk. Luckily the person who answered spoke broken English.
"I need a doctor", she explained to the person at the front desk. "Someone discreet. I'll pay you well if you can find me someone quickly."
"Yes, I know of someone", the man said.
She knew there were lots of doctors in Mexico that filled illegal prescriptions and did things that were not above board. She was just hoping that whomever he found was capable of helping Sands.
"Thanks," she said quickly and hung up the phone. Sands appeared to be unconscious again. She quickly started removing his blood soaked clothing. She needed to get him cleaned up to make it easier for the doctor when he arrived.
She started to unbuckle his pants when Sands slurred, "I'm really not up for it right now, Sugarbutt. Wish I was.."
She laughed heartily at his joke. She was so glad he still seemed to retain his sense of humor even under these circumstances.
"Really, are you sure? I thought you were insatiable," she quipped back.
He laughed a short pained laugh. "Don't tempt me. I may have to…try…." Then he fell unconscious again.
She quickly removed the rest of his clothing, except his boxers. She laughed when she saw that there were little red hot tamale peppers on them. That was so like Sands, the ego maniac, she thought. She washed the blood off of him as best she could except some of the blood under his eyes. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what lay beneath those sunglasses. She examined him for injuries. There were only the three bullet wounds she had seen earlier, one in his left arm and one in each thigh. Unfortunately it looked like the bullets were all lodged inside his body. There were no exit wounds. After examining his wounds, she tucked him under the covers and waited for the doctor to arrive.
