Isolated

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Luke ramming into Jackson's side introduced the ear-splitting gunshot at the same second.  Jackson stumbled, attempting to hold his balance.  He didn't get the chance to regain his stance though. Luke lunged at him, but this time, tackled him to the ground. 

There was no sound from the struggling men.  Because as the echoing gunshot faded, Carter's loud scream of agony filled the air. It covered any audible sign of Luke and Jackson fighting on the cement to overpower the other.

My eyes darted to the scream. Carter was withering on the sandy ground yards away, yelling out in pain, unable to stay still.  Unfortunately, I was the opposite. My legs, my head, my pounding heart didn't know what to do!  All I functioned as during that first moment of chaos was an absorber. Hell, I don't even know what I just saw, what was happening. I couldn't think.

With Carter's initial scream fading, my mental and physical abilities returned. I needed to move! Move, do something, help!  What was even happening? I glanced between the wresting men who were throwing punches and Carter's thrashing body.  All I knew: Jackson was the main source of danger. He had the gun, he was the one going ape shit, and he shot Carter.

I raced over to the men and had my chance.  Luke lifted a disoriented Jackson before slamming his shoulder into the cement.  It forced the guilty gun to scurry from his grip across the pavement. Thank god! Scrambling to it, I picked it up, and rushed back to them. This shit was not happening!

Jackson landed a punch, nearly throwing Luke off of him. Before he could escape Luke's hold, I aimed the gun down to him. "Jackson!"

He completely froze. Then, a groan escaped him, accompanied by a deep scowl.  Eyes were wild and contemplating. They were shooting between me, the gun, and a wounded Carter.

Just as he snapped forward, reaching for the gun, Luke pinned him back against the road.  Luke snatched the gun from me and pressed the barrel under his chin.  "I will blow your fucking head off!" Luke shouted, his free hand holding Jackson's wrists above his head on the road.

Luke's panicked eyes flew up to mine. "Get the handcuffs from Carter, right now! Key's in my back pocket, check where he was shot."

Digging the small key out of Luke's back pocket, I turned and ran off the road. My pounding feet with Carter's loud breathing produced an eerie rhythm. It was the only solid thing I could process at the moment. The rhythm would stick.  The picture I was approaching would stick too.

His brown dyed strands mixed in with the grainy dirt.  He wasn't thrashing like before; he was just lying there, controlling his breath now between clenched teeth.  His eyes were scrunched shut. You wouldn't think the dude was shot from how calm he appeared.  The blood gave it away.

Carter's bound wrists were raised and pressed against his shoulder.  It was the bloodiest region of his body.

When I fell to my knees at his side and fought his strong arms to lower from his wound, I could see the dark hole. It penetrated the front of his shoulder, leaving a dark and blood spurting hole from his shirt.  Luckily for him, the wound was far enough from his chest.

"Fuck, I hate you people," he moaned in annoyance.  Opening his eyes, the sharp blue found mine. Then, his head shifted down to see his wound. The next second, his top lip raised in disgust and anger. Lord knows how he wasn't panicking. If I was looking at my own wound, I would be freaking out. I was freaking out now and I wasn't the one shot.

This was too much, too overwhelming! He was shot. It made it hard to follow Luke's directions.  But he wouldn't die; I reminded myself of that several times.  Forcing my hand to stay steady, I slid the small key into the lock of the red wet handcuffs.