Frank's POV

Falling through the air with Joe, I hope we land in water. I try to position myself so whatever we land on I'll get the worst of it.

We land in Barmet Bay and hit the water hard. My arm feels like it is breaking but I won't release my hold on Joe.

No idea how deep we are underwater but my lungs need air. I kick my legs and pray we make the surface before i black out.

Spots dance in front of my eyes. I can't kick and keep my grip on Joe. I quit kicking and focus on keeping Joe close. If we die, we go together.

I am about to blackout when we surface. Joe coughs out water. I focus on treading water and keeping us above the waves.

Joe shivers next to me. I grab him tighter and start swimming for shore.

"Frank?" Joe says.

I grunt. That's all I can manage as I force my legs and right arm through the choppy water.

"I'm taking a sick day tomorrow," Joe says.

I half smile.

Rough feel of sand under my feet is an answer to a prayer. I pull Joe on the beach and collapse.

Good news is the freezing water slowed Joe's bleeding from the bullets.

Joe shivers as a cold wind sweeps by. Forgetting my own coldness, I put my arm over Joe and pull him close. If I can't get us help, I can at least keep him warm.

My brother is unconscious. He looks so young. I smile when I read Joe's torn, bloodstained t-shirt: My drinking team has a bowling problem.

He wears these shirts to the office to get on dad's nerves.

"Frank! Thank God!" Sam says.

My dad's partner calls in our location.

When I wake up I am in an ambulance.

"Joe?" I whisper.

"He took the first ambulance," Sam says. "They are operating as we speak."

"What happened?" I ask.

Joe's POV

Why does everything hurt? I grit my teeth against the pain. Did I get tackled on the football field? I hope we got a lot of yards cause think I am out for the rest of the game.

Where's Frank? I try to call him but my voice doesn't work. What would Frank do?

I imagine his voice saying, "Use your brains. Listen. Try to figure out where you are. Stop freaking out about not being able to move. Use it to your advantage."

I listen but everything seems far away. All I hear are beeps and voices.

Beeps. Maybe my snooze alarm? But that doesn't explain the pain or voices.

"Doctor, his blood pressure is bottoming out," a voice says. "Heart rate slowing. MRI of abdomen is ready."

"Good. I need to see how close the bullet is to his spleen. Give me his blood pressure every 30 seconds," a male voice says.

Bullet? Did Frank get shot? Where is he?

I claw my way back to awareness. A vision of me and Frank stuck in a dark building floats in my mind. Bullets are everywhere.

"Uh...Dr. Morgan," someone says by my ear. "I know this is impossible, but I think the patient is coming around. What do you want me to do?"

I've got to find Frank. I'm not losing him like I lost Iola. I force my eyes open. When I try to sit up pain shoots through my body. It brings tears to my eyes.

"Get him back under now!" someone shouts. "I can't," someone says by my ear. "Any more drugs could kill him."

"Where's Frank?" I ask in a voice that sounds surprisingly weak. "Want to see my brother now! You want to keep me quiet get him in here!"

"Get his brother suited up and in here!" a man in green scrubs shouts. A nurse runs out of the operating room. "Your brother is on his way. I need to keep operating."

I collapse back on the table. Getting up again seems impossible. Where is Frank? "Is my brother alive?" I ask.

"Look I can save your life or talk. Your choice," the surgeon says. "Can you keep quiet and still?"

"You've got five minutes," I say. Truthfully talking to this guy is taking all my strength. I lay down my head.

I keep my eyes on the door. Frank should be coming in any minute. A picture of four masked thugs shooting at Frank stays in my mind. No one could survive that. My brother died when I was supposed to have his back.

"Doctor, blood pressure and heart rate dropping," a nurse says. My vision starts to fade to black. I can't catch my breath. "Doc, we're losing him," someone says.

Someone brushes my hair off my forehead. The touch is oddly comforting. "Hey baby brother, you called," Frank says.

I crack open one eye. Frank is alive! "Scared you were dead," I whisper.

"No. You're the one in surgery, not me," Frank says. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't want to die with strangers," I whisper.