Mouse leaned Wick gently forward while Cass worked on the buckles. They were gummed with blood and were hard to work.
“Steady your breathing, Wick,” he said. “Slow it down.”
“You first,” Wick said with a clenched jaw. He grimaced, and Cass saw blood on his teeth. They got the pack off his back and scooted him back against the wall.
“Hey,” Mouse said as they were helping him move, “you didn’t have to run all that way, haulin’ you.” He said it with a smile, but Cass could see the concern in his eyes. Mouse gave a quick tug to a pouch on his chest harness, and it fell open, revealing the neatly packed and secured contents of his trauma kit. He worked quickly to get Wick’s chest rig out of the way so he could assess the wound.
“Talk to me, Mouse!” Finn called.
“He’s busy!” Wick responded. “…And mind your business!” And then more quietly, he said, “Is it bad, man?”
Mouse moved Wick’s hand and blood pooled in the hollow of his clavicle, but Cass didn’t have time to see the wound before Mouse poured some kind of gritty powder over it and started packing it with gauze.
“Quit leaking everywhere,” Mouse said, “and it won’t be. Cass, put pressure right here, hard, even if he squeals.”
Cass did as she was instructed, and Wick locked eyes with her.
“You’re going to be fine,” she said.
“You’re just saying that.”
“It makes me feel better.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I know.”
Outside, the Weir continued to squall, but they sounded scattered and didn’t seem to be getting any louder or closer that Cass could tell. Gamble came back down the hall past them and grabbed Able’s shoulder. He turned his head to look at her, but kept his weapon up and pointed at the door.
“Go help Sky on the stairs,” she said. Able nodded and hustled down the hall and up the stairs. Gamble came and dropped to a knee alongside Wick. “Wick, how bad are you?”
“More scared than hurt,” he said.
“Mouse?” Gamble asked.
“Couple of punctures, just behind the clavicle, some tearing,” Mouse said. “Jugular and carotid are probably OK, but if it hit the subclavian, could be bad news.”
“Can we move him?” she asked.
“If we have to.”
“I want to get higher, rig the stairs.”
Mouse nodded. “Gimme a few, see if we can make sure this clots up.”
A sudden impact made the doors shudder, snapping everyone’s attention to the front. Except for Mouse. He was intent on Wick, calmly evaluating him.
“Might not have it,” Gamble whispered.
They waited in tense silence, waited for that next blow to fall. Ten seconds passed.
“What do you think those doors are rated?” Finn asked in a low voice.
“Nothin’ like that gate was,” Swoop answered quietly. Finn readjusted his grip on his rifle.
Thirty seconds. Sixty. But no more blows fell on the doors.
“Seal up the hinges, too,” Gamble said, her voice lowered. “And rig a charge on the center. If we have to get out that way, we’ll go out hard.”
Finn kept the door covered while Swoop cautiously approached. He produced another strip of the same putty-like substance Able had slapped on the middle of the door. This time, however, Swoop drew a large knife from its sheath on his chest rig and cut the strip into quarters. These he placed on the hinge-side of the doors, two on each, high and low. He ignited them in succession, and they each rained sparks to the floor. Once they’d finished, Swoop dropped his pack and dug out a few components that Cass didn’t recognize.
“When you say ‘go out hard’, how hard do you mean?” Swoop asked, as he started assembling pieces.
“Hard enough to kill everything on the other side,” Gamble answered.
Swoop nodded and grabbed another two components out his bag, and then started affixing them to the doors.
Wren was still standing in the hall where Cass had left him, with his hands over his ears, just watching those doors with wide eyes. Jaw clenched, lips white.
“Any chance they didn’t actually see us come in here?” Finn asked.
“It’s hard for them to track in the daylight,” Cass said. “Maybe they lost us.”
Mouse patted her on the arm and shifted position to take over putting pressure on Wick’s wound. Cass lifted her hands slowly while he slid his in underneath and piled more gauze on top of the wound. Cass’s hands were tacky where the blood had soaked through the first layers of the dressing.
“They know we’re here,” Wren said from the hall. Gamble looked at him, and then at Cass.