Chapter 73

It was accurate to admit that John was stunned.

He had only ever been shot once, and that was by himself many years ago. As a young boy preparing for a hunting trip with his brothers, John had fiddled with a handgun only for the thing to fire at his foot at point blank range. Thankfully, back then he hadn't been so good with details. The gun wasn't loaded correctly and so the pressure of the shot was lessened- his big toe was punctured and sore, but he only limped for a few weeks. After that it gave him no issues, and the scar left on his toe was not noticeable unless by someone already aware of it. Billie clearly didn't care for his feet as she had never mentioned seeing it.

At the time John had thought the reckless bullet the most painful thing he had ever experienced. That was a long time back and thanks to other life experiences and John's loss of recollection he no longer imagined that to be true. Now, having been legitimately shot with a bullet that had torn through his flesh, John knew that this had to be the most physical pain he had suffered yet.

The pain was paralyzing. He no longer felt in control of his body; only a vessel that was taking over and overpowering him. He could hardly feel or think let alone comprehend one second to the next. As he grew weaker, the breath staggering in his body, John knew he couldn't even spare the time to react. He was on a train, a moving train, and he could not stay there. Karpis had disappeared (along with the money) and John was left on his own. He had to get off. He had to pull himself or crawl to the door Karpis had hopped out of and do the same. He would fall and roll no matter the terrain- grass, rock, etcetera. It didn't matter, he just had to leave.

John couldn't believe how debilitating the pain was. He let out a groan as his body barely moved an inch, wincing in agony. He clutched his body and that only hurt worse, John pulling back his hand to see it covered with blood. Although he was in panic and terror John forbid himself of allowing that to stall him too. Using all his might he tried for a deep breath and readied himself to move again.

The door of the cabin slid open with a screech. That noise was the momentary death of him. They were there. He'd been caught; it was all over. Everything. They would kill him.

Squinting upward, John saw Red enter the car.

"Jesus," he uttered.

Red was the last gang member aboard the train. The other guys had ran but Red sensed something was off when there was no immediate sign of John. The man had a reputation for swiftness. When he was not the first, or even the last, guy jumping off the train something was amiss. Then the gunshot sounded.

Stepping into the train car and seeing John on the floor was the worst possible outcome Red had imagined. Well, it was almost the worst, as he watched the man's eyes and head move- he wasn't dead yet. There was already plenty of blood but Red was the makeshift-medic and so he was undaunted by the mess.

"He took the money…" John stammered, sounding as though he were barely conscious but with his eyes fixed on the place Alvin Karpis had once been.

"Don't worry about that now," Red replied, positioning John to hold a handkerchief and put pressure upon his wound. "Hold on now. We're gonna get outta here."

Red was a large man but he hardly struggled to bring John to his feet. He threw John's arm around his shoulder and grabbed him around the waist, staggering both of them toward the open space in the wall. With a brief glance over his shoulder Red hesitated no longer- he flung himself and John off the moving train. They would fall and it would hurt, but if John hadn't died yet he surely wouldn't under Red's watch.

Paler and weaker, John was carried into the gangs new safe house. Red held him under his arms and Homer carried his legs. They kicked through the front door and immediately brought him into the living room. Billie and the rest of the women had been waiting anxiously, previously dropped at the location by one of Karpis' associates. The initial relief everyone would feel seeing that Billie was no longer a captive was erased by the panic of seeing John carried in covered with blood.

"Where's Billie?" John called drowsily.

At the sound of all the hustle Billie rushed forward only to feel her stomach drop at the sight of him. "John?" she yelped, all traces of color having disappeared from her face. Red lowered John to the sofa and called out some orders to which Jane ran to fulfill without hesitation. This image of John helpless and hurt looked just like something out of Billie's nightmares. Again she called out his name, "John!" this time with more desperation and worry. She pushed through the men to get to him, collapsing near the sofa.

"Are you okay?" John asked breathlessly, reaching for Billie's face and finding it wet with tears. "Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

She shook her head, denying his concerns, and her face scrunched up with pain the closer she was to him. John's expression hardened lightly. He knew Billie would be upset but he couldn't handle an all out breakdown. "Don't," he told her. "Don't you cry. I'm fine."

Immediately Billie tried to check her emotions. They did not disappear but she was able to stifle a sob. Glancing over his body and seeing the blood was still too traumatic. John followed her gaze and continued to reassure her. "I'm fine, I'll be okay. It's nothing really."

He was tired, close to exhaustion, making his words anything but believable. John might have been in worse situations but it was the worst one Billie had seen yet. He was only playing it down for her benefit. Red reappeared with a syringe and bandages and vials of medicine, Jane close behind him with more items.
"He'll be okay," Red said quietly, not moving his eyes from his diligent work. "It's not as bad as it looks. He'll be in a lotta pain the next week or so, and he'll need help getting back to normal, but he'll live."

Red's voice was filled with reassurance and made Billie feel her first sensation of ease. A few tears still sprang from her eyes as she fixed her gaze to John's face. His eyes were closed and he was only barely reacting to the pricks and pokes on his body. "I'm here," she whispered. "I won't leave you. I'm right here…"

She placed her hand into John's limp, open palm. For just a second her hand was gripped and squeezed by his, then his body went slack and John lost consciousness.