No sooner had they left than Davis realized how much pain he was in, and the fact that he was still barefoot. The wounds to his heels were freshly open, cracked and bleeding. Without the adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream, the pain came on full force.
The boy marched in front of him and slightly to the right as Davis kept the gun pointed relatively in his vicinity. He didn’t expect him to pull anything…of course, that’s when you should be worried. Except that the pain was distracting as hell.
“Slow down,” Davis said. “I’ve gotta stop a second and grab my boots. You got anything in there to make a sling out of?”
Drone boy shook his head.
“Figures,” Davis said and then looked up quickly as the boy began to tear away the lower hem of the shirt he wore.
“Hey, I didn’t…” Davis began to say but then suddenly the young man held out the piece of fabric to him. “Thanks,” he said. He was about to holster his handgun when he realized that was probably what the drone boy was waiting for to make his move. Davis could barely move his left arm with the increasing swelling.
“Nee tu…”
“No…don’t try to talk. God…I know what I need to do. You stay right there and don’t even attempt to move. Got me?”
The young man put his hands up in the air and nodded.
Davis saw his boots lying near the log he’d sat upon earlier…before the chasing and the shooting and kidnapping. Oh, and the bleeding. Can’t forget about the bleeding. “Ask the universe and she shall deliver,” Davis said as he flipped the med kit over. He knew the kid had no idea what he was referring to. It didn’t matter to him. He sat down and looked at the kid for a long moment while he wiped off the blood on his shoulder and arm wounds with a balled-up, discarded shirt. Most of the bleeding had stopped. He opened the med kit. “Man, look what a difference a flood and a decade will make,” he said as he stared into the pristine first aid kit’s contents. “All those sanitary bandages.” He located a few of the supplies he needed and sat the rest beside him. After that he used antibacterial ointment and bandages to seal the wounds for now.
Shaking his head, Davis couldn’t believe drone boy even used his mouth to speak. These barbarians were relentless. And here he was, himself…one of them. He’d known of Hyde, fucking Hyde. Sick mother…that’s what they all called him behind his back. His penchant for medieval torture devices was legendary. The man never had a friend in his life. No one could sleep at night around him. He was too freaking sick. Davis never had the displeasure of meeting him up close in person but saw him speak a few years ago in Astoria during a mandatory get-together. Mandatory was the code word used for be there or be dead. Even so, the guy had a way of creeping you out in an auditorium full of people. The difference between Hyde and the rest of criminal society was that he enjoyed it. He had no qualms about letting others know he enjoyed torture. It fascinated him.
Had Davis known then what was coming, a couple of stray bullets to Hyde and Tale’s heads would have meant justice and mercy to hundreds.
But then it’s too late and now here we are.
At least Hyde was dead. And that’s why he’d been sent to deal with them. He’d failed and now his family was likely going to die too if he didn’t make it back soon. Having the kid with him, one of theirs, was all he could provide in exchange for his failures. They’d hurt him, might even kill him, but since he was a drone operator he certainly had more to offer than the girl. It might already be too late and if it was, Davis told himself, he’d do what he could to set the boy free before he killed Tale. That was his failsafe plan anyway. If he found out that his family was already extinguished…then all bets were off.
When Davis finished with his shoulder wounds, he sucked in a breath as he used a sanitary wipe to wipe away as much debris from his heels as possible and applied ointment to them as well. He added bandages only to keep road crap from sticking to the wounds, in hopes he’d receive real medical care in a few hours when they reached Astoria.
Slipping his modified boots back on, he said, “Right as rain,” between gritted teeth. “Come on, Drone boy, let’s go.”
He didn’t see fear in the kid’s eyes, though. He patiently waited for him, even. It was like calling a dog to tag along on a walk. That was something curious about the situation. Anyone else would look for an escape. Tried to flee. Fumed at him…anything, but not this guy. Possibly it was because of the obvious torture. Maybe he was curious about Astoria. Hell, if he had it in for Tale with a plan for vengeance…he’d help the little bastard.
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy stopped walking, stared at him and raised an eyebrow.
“You can write it down. Don’t try to talk. That’s just creepy sounding. No offense.”
Jason took out a ballpoint pen and ruffled paper pad, so worn the page edges curled up like wood shavings, from his zipped-up jacket pocket. It was getting colder. He scribbled something down in the center after using his palm to flatten a space between the curls and turned the pad over to show Davis.
“Jason. Nice name. I’m Davis. Sorry to make your acquaintance. Let’s get going.”