He stopped for a second and stared at the scene, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
Then he started running again...
Hannibal saw him coming and screamed for him to hurry..."I shot him. I don't know what happened to me, but I shot him! oh my God, I shot him.". Murdock was stunned but had no time to think about that and he knew it was an accident anyhow. It wasn't important, especially at this time.
"We have to move him, Murdock. His pulse is getting weaker and he's not coming around as much. He's lost too much blood. I was going to start building something to transport him on, by I didn't want to leave him. Pressure needed to be applied to the wound, and I was worried the thugs might have came back while I was gone. But, time was lost...maybe I should have hid him and tried to find a way to get him out of here."...his voice loosing strengh as he spoke...
Murdock could see that his ever strong Colonel was sick with guilt and worry. Hannibal wasn't seen this way often. He very rarely lost his cool. "We'll get him out, Colonel. You did the best you could, we're in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't much you could do alone. But, he's going to be okay and we're all going to get out of here. BA is right behind me, he just went around the other side of the house, so we could be sure the coast was clear."
About this time, BA came from around the other side of the shack. He stopped in his track for a split second before breaking into a trot to meet the other guys. Hannibal was still setting down with Face against him. His hand was still pressing firmly into the wound, trying desparately to keep the blood flow down. Face was damp with sweat, pale, eyes closed but face still pinched in pain, moaning softly every so often.
Before doing anything else they checked the wound, which was becoming red. Infection seemed to be setting in already. Face was getting warm...they had to hurry. The blood seemed to have stopped for the most part. There was nothing in the long abadoned shack that they could use, so they laid Face in the grass, using jackets for blackets and pillows.
Then they went to work.
Between the three of them, they were able to have a contraption to safely carry Face, built in less than an hour.
They gently and carefully placed their friend and brother onto the gurney, jostling his body as little as possible, in fear that there was internal injuries.
Soon, they were back in the Van.
They cleaned and bandaged the wound, now that they had the simple luxury of the first aid kit. Hannibal also decided a shot for infection was necassary. Face was out now, none of ths woke him up. He didn't make a noise.
Turning back around in his seat, worry evident in his blue eyes..."We have to find a Hospital BA...GO"