The Lies and the Lives of the Taken

Gerard 35

        I glance down the hall, seeing Hannah choking out on the floor. I quickly make my way to her, sliding down to her side. Toro stumbles over to the wall, killing the lights. He's been shot in his right arm. He can't fire with his dominant hand. 

        My eyes adjust to the dark, regaining my bearings where everything is with the trickles of light that come from the setting sun. I put my gun back in my holster and place my hands on Hannah's stomach, the warm blood seeping between my fingers. At my touch, Hannah flinches, weakly swatting at my wrists. "Hey, hey, it's okay." I gently start applying pressure. Hannah starts shaking her head. "No, no, you're okay," I say calmly. "Look at me, you're okay."

        "I'm hit-blood," she wheezes. "Oh god, oh god, I'm going to die, I'm-"

        "No, you're fine," I tell her. I hold her wound down but the blood isn't stopping. "Stay with me, don't worry, Hannah." She can't see the concern on my face so it makes my words sound more convincing.

        Her soft cries turn to panic. "I'm sorry..."

        "Don't apologize, it's not your fault. You're okay."

        "I'm sorry you got me," she grunts, straining to take a breath to speak. "I know you think I'm stupid and an amateur and you hate me. I'm sorry I-I replaced Brendon."

        "No, I don't hate you," I quickly say. My tear ducts are still active and watering but I don't let her hear the worry in my voice. "You're my partner and we always got each other's back. You're not going to leave me, Hannah." Her breathing becomes fainter. I give her a shake and press firmer. "Agent Reeves, you stay with me. You got my back?" 

        "You didn't want me," she moans, her head falls to the side, her words getting more incoherent.

        "No, that's not true," I tell her. "I just didn't want you to end up like my last partner. He was a friend and...I didn't want to lose another friend." 

        She's not wheezing anymore but she's barely breathing. So much blood. It's not stopping. "I don't want to die," she says. She's a kid. She's too young. "Oh, god, I don't want to die."

        "You're not going to die," I tell her. She chokes out, whimpering softly. "Tell me about your mom. Okay? Who's your mom?" 

        Hannah reaches down, gripping my wrist tightly, holding onto me as her way of holding onto life. "She's a pilot, lives in Virginia," she whispers. Her voice is easing up, not as afraid thinking of her mom. But her grip is loosening on my wrist. 

        "What about your dad?" I ask. She starts exhaling. "Hey, where's your dad?" 

        Her eyes glance to the side and the fear washes off. "Right here," she breathes out. Her hand falls off her side. 

        I close my eyes and tense up. She didn't have to die. I glance at her hip. She didn't even have time to draw her gun. I haphazardly wipe her blood on my pants and then quickly untuck my shirt. I take her gun out, tucking it behind me in my belt and pulling my shirt over to conceal it. I pat her jacket pock down. Rectangle, left side. She also has a phone on her. I give Hannah one last look. She was so eager. So much hope. A bright future. Had. Her eyes are light brown. I reach up and gently close her eyes. 

        "Toro," I whisper, "what happened?"

        His voice comes from behind me, where he's still heavily breathing. "Shots came from the walls, sprayed the room but hit her. Reeves went down." The shooter hit them through the walls. There aren't any windows, no way to see us from outside. But they knew where to aim. Heat vision scope. And to get through the wood of the cabin, heavy caliber gun. "I called for backup, they're on their way."