Exit Wounds

DJ’s hands were cold, his body numb. He was in shock. “What have you done?”

The gun fell from Torin’s hands, clattered against the pavement. “I didn’t mean –”

“For what, for anyone to get hurt?” Casey snarled.

DJ’s heart was pounding, his vision blurred. Søren’s mouth was moving, but DJ couldn’t hear a word. He fell to his knees beside Celia, gathered her into his arms. Her shirt was soaked with blood, and her eyes were wide, surprised. DJ pawed aside her jacket, shoved her t-shirt up, searching for the entry point where the bullet went in.

“I don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” he said.

Celia made a low choking noise. “I don’t know how much love my heart can lose.”

“Not love - blood,” DJ said. “You’re bleeding.” He lifted his head. “Someone call an ambulance!”

Celia lifted a hand, curved it against his jaw. “I love you. Remember that, okay?”

“Why will I have to remember it? You’ll tell me every day,” DJ said. “You hear me? Every day.”

Celia shook her head. “I’m blacking out, baby. Shutting down.”

DJ threw a desperate look upward. “Did anyone call an ambulance?”

Casey, Søren, Torin, Tiger and the others - they were all shouting at each other, and any moment they would start swinging at each other again.

DJ scooped Celia up into his arms and staggered to his feet, stumbled toward the mouth of the alley. An eternity, an instant later, he fell through the doors of the emergency room.

“She needs help!” he shouted. “Somebody help her.”

Several nurses shot him irritated looks, and a baby started to cry. One man cleared his throat.

“Sonny, everyone here needs help –”

“She’s been shot,” DJ said. “Please. Somebody!”

Nurses and doctors swarmed over him, and someone plucked Celia from his arms, placed her on a gurney. There were frantic shouts in angry Chinese mixed in with English, but DJ couldn’t understand any of it. As he knelt on the cold linoleum and watched them take Celia away, he felt himself shatter into a million pieces.

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