Anarchy (Hive Trilogy, #2)(13)
I was just trying to figure out the best way to help the boys when the crazies holding the ash hogtied swung their weapons down and started firing—kill-shots to the ashes’ heads, all of them dead in a moment.
“Nooo!” This time I couldn’t hold back my panicked shouts. Shit. What the hell was going on here? How had this gotten so out of control!
Slamming my mouth closed, I breathed in short puffs. There wasn’t enough air left in the world for me right now. I couldn’t fill my lungs. Flashes of black and white crossed my vision and I knew I was on the verge of a panic attack. Ash were dead. Ryder and Markus had been shot. At least the other guys were okay, but I didn’t know how bad Ryder was. Maybe the bullets had just skimmed him? I quickly talked myself down from the full-on-panic mode I’d been slipping into, knowing that I had to help, and calm was what I needed to properly assess the situation.
First thing: I needed to get to Ryder.
I flat out refused to believe he was dead. There was no way I could even think of that. It would literally drive me crazy.
No one was paying attention to me right then; they were all a little distracted by the massive gunfight going down, so I threw the car in park and slipped out the open driver side door, dropping to the ground and rolling underneath the Humvee. I had no problem army-crawling under the car. And thankfully, from what I could see, I had a direct path to the huge, not-moving body of Ryder.
Without hesitation, I started powering along, arms and elbows getting cut to shit but I didn’t care. Ryder had slumped right beneath the front of the grill but Markus was nowhere in sight. Hopefully one of the other guys had pulled him to safety, since he’d been to the side and not dead center like Ryder.
When I reached the prone enforcer, I grabbed his belt and tipped him back toward me, laying him flat. I tried not to break down at the sight of Ryder’s olive skin now as pale as snow, blood seeping from his stomach. He was completely unconscious.
Counting to ten in my head, a technique I’d learned to keep myself calm, I started to slide his body back under the car. As I backed up, I glimpsed the old lady and her psychos hidden behind a food truck. They continued shooting the shit out of our car, but only sporadically, as my boys were firing back. People were running and screaming down the street and I heard sirens in the distance. This was followed by the empty click of a gun that had run out of bullets.
“Shit,” Kyle said.
Acting on instinct, I pulled the gun from behind my back, and with the limited movement I had in the tight quarters under the car, slid it across the ground toward Kyle’s feet.
Without missing a beat, he scooped up my weapon and continued firing.
Placing one hand under Ryder’s belt and another under his armpit, I dragged him under the car. It was rough, slow going. I tried my best to be gentle, but time was a factor; he was losing too much blood. He groaned then, and I noticed he seemed to be semi-conscious now.
I huffed in and out, straining every muscle to move him.
“Shit! What the hell did you eat for breakfast, a small library?”
The mental counting slowed as my scattered mind started shooting questions at me. Was Markus dead? How long could we hold them off? How much blood could Ryder afford to lose? How the hell had all of this happened? This was supposed to be an in and out mission. Shit, I was missing Sam’s crazy-ass presence right now. That dude would have Rambo’d his way through those Deliverance, smacking them down. Hard.
I dug deep into my stubbornness, dragging Ryder six inches at a time. I flinched and almost shrieked as bullets chipped at the ground and ricocheted up under the car. Effing shitheads, they’d finally noticed me. I heard the increase of bullets from the enforcers, and was glad to see the boys had put more than a few of them down. Bodies littered the path.
Finally, by sheer stubborn willpower, I got Ryder out to the safe side of the street. Hunching over him, I fluttered around trying to figure out how to haul his massive frame up into the car. Kyle appeared behind me and jumped up to stand on the edge of the back door, shooting over the roof.
He shouted down to me. “Charlie, I’m going to get Ryder in the back now. Jared and Oliver have Markus. We’ll have to immediately try and stabilize them and control their bleeding, so we need you to get us all back to the Hive. We have to go now before the Deliverance call in backup. Do you think you can pull it together and drive?”
Okay, shit. Don’t freeze up, Charlie.
“Yes.” Because what other choice did we have?
Brave words. No idea if I could follow through. As I dragged myself back toward the door I caught sight of Jared’s blond hair. He was shooting still, hiding behind the open back door. I couldn’t see Oliver but knew he was somewhere close by. This car had to be bulletproof and reinforced, because it had taken a beating.
In one smooth movement I popped into the driver’s side, keeping my head down best I could. I waited a few seconds and the suspension lurched as a thousand-plus pounds landed in the back seats. The enforcers shut the doors best they could, but the bullets had twisted them a little, and they didn’t close properly. Oh well, it would have to be good enough for now.
Without thinking twice, I gunned the Hummer and lurched forward five feet, popping off the gutter. The Deliverance took the chance then to leave the safety of their hideout, running at us, guns blazing.
“Go, Charlie!” Jared shouted.
I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal, pulling the Humvee back onto the road. The right side of the car clipped one of the Deliverance on our way out, the tires squealing as I did zero to sixty in record time. My hands were slippery on the wheel, blood and sweat coating them. My heart was beating triple-time; I couldn’t tell what was fear and what was adrenalin. Everything felt the same in my crazed mind.