City Dogs

Chapter 48

"August? August! Can you hear me?"

"Shit, he's almost unconscious— August, just stay with me, alright? Stay with me now, don't close your eyes."

"We need a tourniquet, someone give me their belt. Now!"

"Here, Malcolm, tie it on."

"Already on it. August, you can still hear me, right? I need you to hang in there; we're bringing you to the hospital. Just make it that far. You have to."

"Dammit, he's phasing out again."

"Nothing we can do about that at the moment. Send something down the link— prepare for an immediate blood transfusion. We'll be using the pack's hospital."

"You'll carry him there?"

"Always."

❈

Salty wind whipped my skin, my hair. The sky was clouded with gray overcast, the ocean an impregnable basin of iron. Sand clumped between my toes, the gritty material made damp by the ebbing and flowing of water. The landscape was barren and silent, only the sounds of nature reaching my ears.

"Beautiful," I breathed, watching sea foam melt into the sand.

"It is, isn't it? If I recall correctly, this is your first time here."

"It is. How did you know that?"

The voice chuckled. "I'm your father, August. How could I not know?"

I finally turned. Indeed, the one standing next to me was none other than the person I've been longing to see for years. "Papa?"

The man looked as if he'd never died. His hair was longer, similar to mine, and his skin shone with the youth he hadn't had in the years he'd been in the hospital with pancreatic cancer. His smile was the same— even when he was sick, it was always the same— warm, welcoming. As if he had never left me at all.

"August, what are you doing here?"

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Papa said gently, taking my hand in his.

"But you're here."

"Right."

"So, I'm here with you."

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "No."

"But I am! See?" I kicked up some sand with my foot. "I'm here."

"But you're not supposed to be, August."

"I don't care. You don't have to worry so much anymore now— you were always so worried about what would happen to me after you died, right? Well—"

Papa clasped my shoulder firmly. "So you're just going to forget about them?"

"Who's them?"

"Your family."

"But you're my family."

"Yes. But I'm not your only family."

"You are."

"August!" His sharp tone made me flinch. "You can't stay here."

"Why not? No, why do you have that expression again? It's the same— you're not leaving me again, right? Please, please, you can't—"

He pulled me into a hug, his body shaking with suppressed emotions. "I'm sorry, pup, I'm so, so sorry. I wish there was a way, but. . ."

My hands clawed at his back, digging my nails into the fabric of his shirt. He won't leave me, he won't leave me, he won't leave me.