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AMES LAY ON THE CARPET holding the makeshift bandage against his abdomen. He shifted his body as best he could; the pain of his broken leg shot up through his hip and into his belly. He looked down at the wound with a sigh.
It doesn’t look so bad, he thought. The bastard missed all the good stuff. But a few more inches to the left or the right and I’d be one dead mother.
He turned the other way and this time the pain shot all the way to his shoulder. He looked at Arnie. The blood was still coming, but David had managed to slow the flood to a small drizzle. The amount of blood already pooling around Arnie was bad. Ames did not think Arnie would survive until the ambulance arrived.
Ames reached out and touched Arnie’s foot. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was raspy. His throat was on fire. He wished for water. “I fucked up and now look at the mess we’re in.”
Arnie lay unresponsive, but still breathing.
Trying his best to ignore the pain, Ames pulled himself forward, until his body came to rest beside Arnie. The other man’s breathing was labored, but steady. He lifted the covering and examined Arnie’s wound. It was a line about four inches long, starting just to the left of the Adam’s apple and moving toward the back of the neck. The carotid artery was untouched.
Lousy aim you have, Ames thought, replacing the bandage. Arnie might just make it.
He lay back down feeling bone weary. His head rolled to the side so that he could watch Arnie. His eyes felt heavy, but he knew he could not sleep. Sleep was bad. He might not wake up. For a few seconds he had heard David’s feet as the pounded up the stairwell and then there was silence. Now, in the distance, he heard sirens and knew the ambulance was on the way.
Soon this will be over, he thought. To himself he said, “One way or another, for me it all ends here.”
His eyes closed, and the world was blessedly dark.