“This is Detective Scott Hanes in the east entrance of the national bank. I need medical here STAT. WE have a man down.”

Words that echo through the halls.

Her body leaned up against the bloodstained wall. The melted snow inching its way to the drain a couple feet away.

“She can’t be…” I whisper to myself.

The crimson snow sticks to my pant legs as I rush over to her.

“Ashe! Are you ok? Were you hit?” I blurt directly into her face.

Her eyes slightly open and she cracks a smile.

“We got them.” She answers in a weak, cheerful tone.

Even sniffing the ass of the grim reaper she’s got her eye on the prize.

“Ya kid. We did. Now let’s focus on you.”

I start patting her down starting from the neck. There's a small abrasion on the back of her head. Nothing that could put her in this state. No deformities on the neck. No distention of the jugular veins. The moment I reach her coat I notice it. Her right clavicle is unstable.

“I need to open up your coat and see the damage.”

She lets off a little nod. I place my hand along her clavicle and slide it slowly over to her shoulder. There it is. Bullet hole right near the joint of the shoulder. Could be worse.

“Listen. You’re hit. I need to look at your back for an exit wound.”

At this point she’s slipping in and out of consciousness. I’m pretty much just talking to myself here. I place her to her side wound side down. There's a clear exit showing in the back of her coat. Glad to see it’s an in and out but something isn’t adding up. She’s not bleeding enough to be in this stage of shock already. I’ve got to get a better look.

“I hope this coat isn't expensive because I am not buying you a new one.” I say trying to keep her awake.

At this point her breathing is getting faster and seems really shallow.

“You don’t need to talk to me but I need you to stay with me, got it?”

I need to see what I’m dealing with but I’ve got to try and keep her warm. I’ve got to do it.

I grab the collar of her cotton coat with my left hand and try to wrap my mangled right along the fabric near the seam. I grit my teeth and start tearing away at the coat to split in down the middle. My thumb is completely useless at this point. Every pull hurts like hell.

I finally expose her back. There’s a clear exit wound on her left shoulder. Fucking AR caliber tore out some of her shoulder plate. A couple breaths seeing the exposed wound and I can see little bubbles slipping out.

Fuck. Her lungs.

As her breaths get shallow I see the energy draining rapidly.

I need to cover this up fast. Her lungs are going to collapse if I don’t do anything. What did we used to do for sucking chest wounds again? Been so long since I’ve seen a sight like this.

Wait, that's it. I remember him saying something about this. I’ve got to close it up. Stop the air from coming in.

I slide my coat off of my shoulders and take grip of the sleeve. A hard tug doesn’t do the job. My hand is completely useless at this point. I’ve got no torque anymore. Maybe I’ll get more luck with the pockets. I throw the coat in the blood stained ground and stomp a foot against the leather. With my one good hand I give my best lawn mower pull. One quick rip and I’ve got a square to work with.

“This is going to hurt, Kid.” I warn her knowing fully that she won’t give a shit.

Pressing my thumb deep in the wound makes her gasp and moan and throw her claws back at me, her nails embedded into my leg.

“Fuck kid! Never realized you had such a grip.”

The bleeding seems to have stopped for now.

I repeat the procedure with the other pocket and fill in the front just in case and drape what's left of my coat over her to try and keep her warm.

Her pulse is still going strong so that’s good. But the bitter cold has crept to her fingertips. I should check the pulse of her left if there’s any difference. Same rate but seems a little weaker. Poor circulation is not a good sign.

My heart skips a beat as sirens begin to echo from a distance.

“You hear that kid? They’re coming to get you. Just hold on a little longer.” I tell her, almost hopeful.

Her breathing slows and she grabs me by the hand with her ice cold clutch.

“Hanes.” She manages to squeeze out under her breath.

“Ya Kid? What do you need?”

Her lightly crystallized eyes open ever so slightly.

“Why?”

Her body goes limp. Deader than a sack of potatoes.

“Kid!” I cry out checking for a pulse.

I can’t feel my fucking fingers. Fuck.

“Kid!”

My heart starts beating sirens in my head.

“Don’t you fucking give up on me.”

I press my head tightly against her chest to try and hear.

There’s still a heartbeat. She’s just unconscious. Thank god.

Blue and red lights begin bouncing throughout the corridor as the blaring sirens become deafening.

“They’re here, Kid.”

I take her in my arms and race my way over to the ambulance. The ground is slippery so every step risks a fall.

The ambulance doors swing open and I’m met by some young looking kid in a clean pressed uniform.

“In here!” He shouts. “Put her on the bed.”

I place her down on the blanket covered stretcher and help strap in the seatbelts.

“We’ve got it from here.” Says the medic.

“I’m not fucking leaving and we’ve got to go. So let’s close the door and get fucking going.”

I’m not taking no for an answer. I got her into this whole mess. I’m sure as fuck not abandoning her.

The boy stutters a little but proceeds to let me stay.

The tires squeal on the frosty pavement as we make our way out.

“What happened?” The boy asks.

“Gunfight. She got hit in the chest. I didn’t see it happen.”

“Did she hit her head?”

“I didn’t see it happen. She got an in and out wound in her left chest, unstable clavicle and a weaker pulse on her left.”

“When did she lose consciousness?”

“A couple minutes before you guys got here.”

“Her Sat’s are low. She needs oxygen.”

“How can I help?”

“You ever bag before?” He asks me while doing a quick head to toe on her.

“Ya a couple times back in the war.”

“Ok good. Take the O2 Bag and give her ventilations. I’ve got to get a better look at her injuries”

The medic takes out a pair of shears from one of his thirty pockets and surgically cuts through all clothing and exposes the wound in her chest.

“You plug these up?” He asks.

“Ya she was bleeding like a stuffed pig.”

“Were there any bubbles coming out of her chest before you did?”

“Ya a couple.”

The guy digs into yet another pocket and pulls out a stethoscope. He spends a good ten seconds on each lung. Every shallow breath seems to be that much more desperate then the next.

“Stop bagging her.” He commands. “Switch it for a mask and come help me.”

“What are we doing?”

“There’s a hyperresonance in her left lung and her BP has been dropping.”

“Gonna need some English here Doc.”

“She has air in her lungs. So much that it’s making it hard for her heart to beat.”

“Fuck… what do we do?”

“I need to do a chest decompression. If we don’t do it now she might go into cardiac arrest.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“First thing is that I need you to keep her chest clear. There’s a lot of blood making it hard for me to find the right spot for the treatment.”

“Got it.” I say frantically trying to stand in this mental bouncy castle.

After a couple seconds of being tossed around like a ragdoll, I manage to get some supplies to clean up.

“Ok good. Now I need you to let my partner know when we can make a 5 second stop so that I can put in this needle.”

“Sure thing.”

I stick my head through the microwave sized whole and see some old geezer with two hands firmly clutched to the steering wheel.

“We need to make a 5 second stop for a needle.”

“Sure thing!” The geezer yells, never taking his eyes off the road.

Using his fingers as some sort of measuring tool, the young one lines up a needle against Ashe’s chest. A small clearing on the road appears and he breaks harder than a Kit Kat bar.

“Now!” Yells the geezer through the window.

In a decisive prick, he thrust the needle into her chest and air starts to seep out like a dad after thanksgiving.

“Go!” The young one replies.

With a banshee's shriek we get back on the road.

“Ok, that solves the breathing for now.”

She may still be out but her face looks somehow a little more relaxed.

“What next Doc.”

“Let me handle my patient and how about you patch up that hand before I have two patients?”

“I’m fine.”

“I know I phrased that as a question but I’m not actually asking. You did a pretty good job patching her up so right now there’s not too much more we can do.”

I begrudgingly dig into the bag once again and pull out a couple gauzes and rolls. Did a pretty good patch job if I say so myself. It’s barely bleeding through.

“How is she?” I ask putting on the finishing touches.

“Her Sat’s aren’t great and she’s lost a lot of blood but she’s not giving up.”

“Ya that sounds like her. Can’t bring her down if you try.”

Like a prayer answered we come to a halt. The doors swing open with a blinding radiant light.

“We need to take it from here. Good job keeping her stable until we got there.” He says as they fade away into the hopeful light.

Maybe she’ll be ok. Maybe she won’t remember the things I did. Maybe she won’t see me as the monster I really am.

Just Maybe.