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Max jumped at the sound of the gunshot. Its concussion in the closed room made his ears ring. He strained to look around, but his bonds kept his head immobile. He could only see the ceiling. He heard smashing wood and felt Nick slamming down above his head. The flurry of activity told him they had taken out the kid. Robed figures converged on him. Another gunshot and they scattered. Flynn's gravely baritone cut into the silence that followed. "Hit the deck or you're fucking dead!" he shouted. Footsteps followed. "Spread those arms and legs." His voice lowered. "Any one of these son-of-a-bitches even breathes funny, waste 'em."
Max never thought he'd be happy to hear Flynn's voice.
More scuffling.
His throat tightened when he saw O'Grady lean over him. Alive! His heart swelled. When she pulled off his gag he tried to speak, but no words came. She freed his arms while someone else untied his legs. He reached up and hugged her tight. Uniformed cops flooded the room. Hooded figures cowered on the floor. No sign of Derlen or Sully.
Max pulled away and saw his own blood staining her blouse. "My God, am I happy to see you. I thought you were dead."
She smiled weakly. Her face looked pale and drawn.
"Nick. Is he all right?"
"Doesn't look good."
Max turned and looked behind him. Nick lay on the blood-splattered altar, a weak spurt of blood pulsing from the wound in his arm. His eyes had glazed over. Two uniforms stared down at him wide-eyed. Max ripped off his shirt. "What the fuck are you gawking at? Do something!" He dove toward Nick, ignoring the stream of blood from the wound on his own neck.
The uniforms jumped and started untying Nick's feet.
"Radio ahead to Carney emergency," O'Grady said. "Tell them to have a trauma team ready."
Max made a tourniquet from his bloody shirt and tied it around Nick's upper arm. Nick blinked but didn't speak. His breathing came shallow. Max felt for his pulse. Irregular. He didn't like the cold and clammy feel of the kid's skin, either. As soon as the uniforms freed his feet, Max picked Nick up and ran for the door. His legs wobbled, but he pushed himself forward. O'Grady followed.
Two paramedics came in with a gurney. Max laid Nick on it and the two men strapped him in.
"The hell with that!" Max barked. "Get moving. He's lost a lot of blood."
A third medic blocked Max's way. "You need attention." He pushed a compress against the wound on Max's neck.
"Bullshit!" Max shoved the man aside and started after Nick. "Hang on, kid." He took Nick's hand and climbed into the ambulance behind the stretcher while a paramedic checked his vitals and prepared an I.V.. A second paramedic hooked up a portable E.K.G.. A weak rapid pulse shot across the screen.
"He's slipping!" the man yelled. "Pedal to the metal." The siren yelped and the ambulance jerked forward.
Max knelt beside Nick and listened to the medic calling Nick's fading vitals to the emergency room. He clutched Nick's cold hand and put his arm across his legs. "Don't quit on me, kid," he whispered.
They rode the short distance up Dorchester Ave. to Carney hospital. Max’s own heart jumped each time an erratic line spiked across the screen.
At the emergency entrance they backed into the stall and the rear doors flew open. O'Grady screeched to a halt beside them in a squad car. Paramedics and nurses hustled Nick out of the ambulance. Max and Colleen followed them through the automatic doors to a waiting team of doctors and nurses who converged on Nick.
A steady tone pierced the air and a straight line showed on the E.K.G.. "Fourteen c.c.'s of epinephrine, stat!" someone shouted. "He's gone asystole."
Max felt a rush of dizziness and staggered. His knees buckled. He sensed O'Grady catching him as the grayness turned to black.