Undercover

Part 11-
Gunshots, Glass and Gauze

At the same moment Jarvis squeezed
the trigger, Don threw himself toward Jarvis. 
In his peripheral vision, Don could see Will rolling forward with
blinding speed.  The gun went off and Don
heard the sickening thud of bullet hitting flesh.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Will didn’t falter and he reached Jarvis
before Don was halfway there.  Will drove
his shoulder into Jarvis’s chest and the gun went flying.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Don dove for the gun, his mind barely
registering the red patch on Will’s shirt.

Don’s fingers closed around Jarvis’s
gun and he was dragging it into his hand when he heard the crack of another gun
and saw Will crumple to the floor. 
Automatically, Don raised Jarvis’s gun. 
John Richland, who had been concealed in the room beyond, swung his gun
toward him.  Don let off a shot at John’s
chest and was rolling under the nearest table before he even saw if he
hit. 

Gunfire splattered around him and
he kept rolling, out from underneath one table and toward the next.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Glass shards and chemicals filled the air,
making him cough.  He rolled right over a
patch of broken glass, the glass slicing into his bare arm.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  He hit the far wall, sheltered somewhat by
the heavy table.  He clung to the wall as
bullets dug chunks out of the concrete floor inches from his body, until he
heard the sound he’d been waiting for – the click of an empty gun.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>    Don leaned out from underneath the table, sighted
John, and put two bullets into his heart. 

John slumped to the floor, and Don looked
around to find the other brother.  He saw
Jarvis disappear into the doorway.  Don threw
himself across the floor, glass grinding into his palms.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Jarvis was opening a drawer in a table by the
door.  He raised a gun and Don shot him
through the left eye.  Jarvis fell to the
floor and was still.  Don whipped his
head around to check on John.  John lay
unmoving, his eyes open and staring

Then finally Don’s screaming brain
caught up with his adrenaline-fueled muscles. 
He spun toward where he’d last seen Will ...style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  to find a crumpled and bloody heap.

“Will!”  Don scrambled over to
Will’s broken body.  Blood fountained
from the front of Will’s right shoulder and poured down his head.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  But he was still breathing.

“Will, Will?” Don asked
frantically, as he yanked off his own style='mso-spacerun:yes'> barely-used T-shirt and pressed it against the
shoulder wound.  He tore off his tennis
shoes and dragged off his sweats. He tied the legs of the sweats around Will’s
shoulder, knotting them to press the t-shirt tight against the wound.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  The head injury was much worse.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> 

“Will, answer me!”style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Not even a mumble in reply. style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Will’s skin was clammy, his heart rate
erratic.  Don stumbled over to the lab
tables, looking for anything he could use. 
He found a roll of duct tape, a clean towel, and a pile of fine cotton
squares that were ready to use for filters. 
Don returned to Will and pressed the cotton squares against the terrible
hole in Will’s head.  He wound the towel
several times around Will’s head, tying it into a knot at his forehead.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  He then wrapped tape a number of times around
Will’s shoulder, securing the makeshift bandage made from Don’s clothing.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Blood was already seeping through the
shoulder bandage.

Don spun on his knees, looking for
a phone, but didn’t see one.  He crawled
rapidly to John’s body and scrabbled through the dead man’s pockets, hunting
for a cellphone.  He couldn’t find one
and shoved the body aside in frustration. 
Will’s life was literally dripping away.

He surged to his feet and went to Jarvis’s
body where it lay against the door.  No
cellphone there either.  He ran into the
room that the men had appeared from. 
There, on the desk, was a phone. 
He grabbed for it and dialed the number with blood-slick fingers.

A voice said, “East Side Pizza, how
may I—”

Don snapped, “Will’s hurt bad,
ambulance now.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Basement of Richland house.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Security’s on but I think only the two
brothers were home and they’re dead.  Tell
Sanchez you’ve got a mole.”

He waited for the gasp of
acknowledgement and the stutter that an ambulance would come immediately then
dropped the phone.  He grabbed a pile of
blankets from a cot in the corner.

Racing back out of the room, Don fell
to the floor at Will’s side.  He
carefully wrapped the blankets around Will then gathered Will into his arms.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  The ambulance was so far away.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  Will wasn’t going to last that long.

Don rocked Will’s body in his arms
and moaned, “No no no no no.  Don’t leave
me, Will.   Don’t leave me.”style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  He tried to wipe the blood from Will’s face
but there was so much of it. 
Blood-soaked hair stuck to Will’s forehead and cheeks, Don pushed it
aside but it snagged in one of Will’s diamond earrings.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  The earrings that were the mates to the ones
in Don’s ears. 

style='mso-tab-count:1'>                     

“Dammit, Will,” Don growled, fear giving him a wild energy.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>  “Will Stevens, you bastard, you come back to
me right now.”  The energy drained away
and all that was left was the fear. 
“Will, aein, please, babe,
don’t leave me.”  He pulled Will closer,
trying to lend him warmth, life.  “Don’t
leave me …”