In the Golden Triangle

Chapter 7: Lucky

"Hin!"

Kitt lunged toward Hin, his knees scraping the ground as he dropped to his side. Hin was groaning slightly, his hand covering half his face. Blood sluggishly leaked between his fingers.

"Where are you hurt?" Kitt demanded.

Hin slowly sat up, his light brown eyes focusing on Kitt's face. "I'm fine." He removed his hand and Kitt could see a deep laceration above his left eye.

"I think I caught a piece of shrapnel." He said. The wound was bleeding steadily but it wasn't too bad. Kitt unzipped his medical pack and pulled out a roll of bandaging. With Teh's help he was able to quickly dress Hin's wound. It wasn't a great job, but it would hopefully slow the bleeding.

Kitt left Hin with Teh and turned to Joom. He was standing beside the drug mule. The man was dead and there was an old pocketknife on the ground beside him. Kitt noted the large blood pooling under his chest staining his white t-shirt.

A pit opened up in Kitt's stomach. If the dead man wasn't the one with the gun, where the hell did the gunshot come from?

Joom guessed what Kitt was thinking. He nodded up the slope. "Must have come from there."

Kitt felt his mouth go dry.

Bringing his gun up to the ready he took off through the brush. He covered the forty yards quickly, not caring about stealth. He burst through the brush and quickly took in the scene.

Chokh was sitting on the ground with his leg extended. Devon was kneeling beside him and had her hands on his ankle. John was standing just beside them.

A 1911 was sitting beside Chokh's right hand.

"What the hell happened?" Kitt shouted.

Devon's shoulders stiffened and she gently put Chokh's ankle down. Standing, she stepped up to Kitt. "Chokh saw that the prisoner slipped his handcuffs and was coming at Hin with a knife. He stepped forward to shoot him and fell over that root." She pointed to a decent sized root snaking across the ground.

"He twisted his ankle. I was just examining it."

Chokh nodded numbly. His hands were shaking, and his face was pale. When Kitt looked at him he refused to make eye contact.

Kitt lowered his gun and stepped to kneel in front of Chokh. "Is that accurate, Private?"

With his eyes lowered Chokh nodded.

Movement behind him made Kitt tense up, but it was just Hin coming up the slope. Half his face was caked in dried blood and his uniform and flak jacket were wet with the stuff.

"Jesus." Devon said under her breath, stepping up to Hin. She peeled back the crude bandage and assessed the wound.

"He's going to need stitches. Did you clean this?" she asked.

She could see that they didn't. Devon grabbed the front of Hin's flak jacket and dragged him to the truck. She pushed him to sit beside one of the big wheels. While the men stared at her she disappeared into the cab of the truck, returning with a larger first aid kit. She opened it and snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

"If we wait too long they won't be able to stitch it. Cleaning it will help."

She peeled the bandage from his face and hmm'd. The bleeding had stopped. Head wounds always look bad. Scalps were very vascular and always bled a lot. Even though Hin's wound was largely superficial, he had lost quite a bit of blood.