The Runaways

Chapter 18

        “You’ve gotta let me help you so we can keep going, okay?” I asked.

I pulled the scrap of fabric off my neck and lifted up his shirt a second time. He reached out and grabbed me before my fingers reached his skin.

        “Don’t touch that. Please.”

His body tensed under my hands. There were so many scars on his stomach. He flinched like they were still new. The bullet wound would leave another, but it couldn’t scar if it didn’t heal.

        “Trust me,” I said.

He turned away so he wouldn’t have to watch me stop the bleeding. Bits and pieces of white t-shirt weren’t going to hold him together for long, but it was the best either of us could hope for until someone found us—if someone found us.

I folded the fabric around my fingers and gave Caleb my free hand to hold on to. The same sickly familiar smell of pocket change snuck up into my nostrils. I brought my fingers down low enough to hover just above the dime-sized hole a few inches higher than his hip.

His breathing picked up the closer I came to the opening of his skin. I looked at him from underneath my bangs, blinked the salty strands out of my eyes, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” before going any further.

I pushed the makeshift gauze down into the mouth of Caleb’s bullet wound until the red stained fabric peaked out from the other side. A low, guttural howl tore through his body like the bullet had through his skin. I broke when his voice did, shattering into quiet sobs as it left his lips and faded into the dead night air.

I’d never heard or seen a boy cry like this. I couldn’t swallow the suffocating helplessness that came with knowing how little I could do to take away his pain. I only made it worse. Guess my dad and I weren’t all too different.

Caleb hid behind his hands so he could cry alone like it was habit. I turned away from him to hide the wet streaks streaming down my face and stared out into the fields.

A pair of headlights peered over the edge of the low hills, and sped along the fences barring the crops from the road. I didn’t think, just got to my feet and ran.

The rain burst down from the clouds and pelted my skin like liquid bullets, washing Caleb’s blood from my fingers and down into the dirt. If I made it to the road, I’d probably scare the life out of anyone driving this time of night.

A girl dressed in boy’s clothing running around with blood on her hands would warrant a 911 call, but I had to take the risk.

I stumbled into the fence and hauled my legs over the splintered wood, struggling to clear the four-foot barrier under the weight of rain-soaked clothes.

Off-white orbs cut through the midnight dark and lit up the world around me. The minute my feet left the fence, a loud ripping sound from behind pulled my attention away from the oncoming car.

Caleb’s jeans caught the corner of a jagged nail, and sent me tumbling head first into the middle of two lanes. I shut my eyes and waited for the thirty-mile-per-hour impact, but the tires tearing towards me screeched to a stop.

        “What the hell d’ye think yer’ doin’, kid?”

Shock rippled across my skin in slow waves. I stared up at the silhouette of a willowy man towering over me in the rain. He pulled me off the ground and examined me from underneath the hood of his raincoat. I blinked to bring the world back into focus and a pair of stormy gray-blues glared back at me.

        “Y’alright? You scared the life out of me, I thought I’d killed you.”

His voice.

His lingering r’s sounded a lot like Liam’s and the subtle slips Caleb made when he spoke.

       “My friend needs help. Please.”

I could hardly speak without my voice shaking.

      “You’re alright love, calm down, take a breath and try again.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and an old fear sparked to life. Despite his outward kindness, the crags and lines on his weathered face that warned of something sinister.

       “He’s hurt. I can’t carry him. Please, he needs to get out of the rain. He’ll bleed to death.”

       “Take me to him.”

He followed me back over the fences and across the muddy fields. The closer we got to Caleb, the faster I ran—terrified of how I’d find him once we reached the entrance of the tunnel.

He looked so still, lying pale and motionless in the rain like he was already gone. All the strength in my legs spilled out into the ground at the sight of him.

The stranger came limping from behind me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d come too late.

       “Jesus, Caleb. What’ve you done to yourself?” He mumbled.

He sat down, cradled Caleb’s head in his hands, and placed two fingers on his neck to feel for a heartbeat. He glanced up at me, eyes wild with worry.

       “Can you drive?”

I nodded. He tossed me his keys.

        “Go and get my truck! He’s still breathing. He’ll have a chance if we can get him up the road.”

I turned my back and started off towards the old Dodge in the distance. Halfway across the flooding fields the silhouetted stranger called out after me. His voice cut straight through the rain.

        “I don’t know how you found him, but thank you. Thank you for bringing my son back to me."