Run to Ground(46)

“Fuck that.”

“Bosco!” Blessard growled, but Theo had already reclipped the portable to his belt. He’d need both hands for this. “Bosco!”

“Dude.” Hugh gave a gasping laugh as his eyes started to close. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Wake up!” Theo barked. “C’mon, you lazy ass. I need you to do some of the work.”

Although Hugh forced his eyes to open with obvious effort, he was so pale there was a green undertone to his tan skin. “What…are you…talking about? You’re the…lazy one.”

“Give me your hand.” Theo was almost snarling by this point. He’d lost so much this past year. He knew, just knew, that he couldn’t survive losing Hugh. If Theo let another partner die, that would be the end of him. “Hugh, you fucking asshole! Give me your goddamned hand!”

There was a pause, just a single second of stillness, but long enough to make Theo’s heart stop.

“Such language.” Hugh tsked, his voice weak but present, the hint of a teasing smile on his face. He slowly raised a visibly shaking arm.

Relief flooded Theo, making his heart thud with such force it felt like it was pounding against his rib cage. He grabbed Hugh’s hand and positioned it over his own where he was futilely trying to stanch the bleeding. “Press here. Hard as you can. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Theo slid his hand free and pushed Hugh’s palm against the gushing hole. He didn’t think it was possible for Hugh to blanch any paler, but somehow he managed it. Theo hardened his heart against the grimace on his partner’s face. “Harder. Don’t be a baby.”

That got a pained chuckle, but Hugh’s shaking hand obediently pushed more firmly against his leg. After a final glance at Hugh’s face to determine exactly how close he was to passing out, Theo yanked his uniform shirt over his head. Without bothering to remove his badge or nametag or even the pen in his chest pocket, Theo hurriedly folded the shirt into a rough bandage and wrapped it around Hugh’s thigh.

“Move your hand,” he ordered, and Hugh did, his arm dropping like a dead weight to his side. Theo pulled the shirt tight and then tied it on the side of Hugh’s leg. The improvised bandage immediately became stained with blood. “Think you can run with help?”

There was no answer, except for the continuous chatter on the radio. Glancing at Hugh’s face, Theo saw his partner’s eyes were closed and his head lolled to the side, looking so lifeless that Theo’s stomach twisted hard.

“No,” he said, although no sound emerged. It felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Shaking off his terror that Hugh wasn’t just unconscious, Theo gritted his teeth and rolled his partner onto his stomach. Kneeling by his head, Theo hooked his arms under Hugh’s and stood, grunting with the effort.

“You’re a big bastard,” Theo muttered, his voice gritty with effort. All that bulk was dead weight, too, making him feel even heavier.

Theo winced at the term “dead.”

“Knock it off,” he muttered as he bent, taking Hugh over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. As he straightened, Theo took a second to steady his burden before blowing out a hard breath.

“Ready, buddy?” Hugh didn’t answer. “Me, neither.” Despite that, Theo stepped out from behind the safety of the sign.

He couldn’t run, not while wearing his two-hundred-plus-pound partner like a cape, but he moved as fast as he could. Each step felt exposed, every foot he covered in the seemingly endless space between him and the cluster of emergency vehicles made him want to duck back behind their stone cover. Why had he thought this would be a good idea?

Theo wasn’t worried about his own unprotected parts. It was Hugh. His partner’s vest seemed too small and useless. Sure, it covered some vital organs, but what about his head or his neck or that femoral artery Theo worried was already nicked?

He expected the lieutenant to be screeching at him, but his portable had gone silent. Blessard had probably ordered the radio silence, so as not to draw the shooter’s attention. There were no shouts coming from the first-responders’ camp, either—just an expectant, waiting silence.

His boots hitting the ground sounded too loud, as did each breath as it tore in and out of his lungs. The space between them and the police staging area was still too far—hopelessly far.

Clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on Hugh’s limp form, Theo kept moving, one step after the other, braced for the bullet that would bring him down, or worse, hit Hugh, ending Theo just as surely.

The thought pushed him to move faster, despite the unconscious man weighing him down. His feet shuffled forward in an attempt at a run. The vehicles were getting closer, near enough to see Otto’s distinctive form running toward them. Other cops grabbed at him, but he shook them off like they were pesky mosquitoes and kept running.