Cause and Effect

Chapter 25

razbliuto [razbli-uto]

(n). the sentimental feeling about someone you once loved but no longer do

//--//--//

Arthur wasn't behind him. 

Charles was going to kill him if Arthur didn't do it first. He crept forward, cursing silently under his breath, knife balanced in the palm of his hand. Last he saw, Kieran was dangerously close to losing his head, and not in the metaphorical sense either. More like in the Columbian necktie sort of sense. 

He moved faster, heel to toe, silent through the mess of the debris. 

Kieran was forced down on his knees, face swollen up from where he had taken a vicious beating. Poor man was trembling, begging words tumbling from his split lips. Charles grimaced. Kieran should have never been brought along for this. 

The men in front were laughing at his discomfort, tossing cruel jokes back and forth, and pulling his head back by his hair, whispering the tip of a knife just shy of a machete over his bobbing throat. Kieran yelped, and screwed his eyes shut and Charles moved in. The speed at which he threw the Bowie knife caught the man pulling Kieran's head back in the throat, slicing the jugular, and covering Kieran's face with the spray. Charles let the knife go, lost in the arc and turned to the others, recovering from the shock of his appearance and pulled their guns out. He pushed Kieran to the side, and whipped his out. It didn't take very long, his surprise attack had given him the advantage and he dropped the two remaining del Lobos in seconds. Kieran breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, his head dropping to the ground. 

Charles dropped to a knee next to him. "You okay?"

Kieran nodded, eyes still closed tight. Charles pulled him up, and grabbing the man's weapons, handed it back to him. 

"I'll take you back to the ridge," Kieran looked shaky, and Charles didn't quite trust his ability to get back by himself. Still he was worried about Arthur, and the reminder that the man wasn't with him, like he was supposed to hurried his movements. 

"Where's everyone," Kieran asked, pulling extra clips out of the pockets of the men that had been tormenting him. Asked that question like he knew Charles's deep fears.

Charles didn't answer, and Kieran didn't ask again. 

He didn't find his Bowie, and he sighed. His only other knife was with Arthur. Now he had to find the man. 

"C'mon," he whispered back roughly. "Ridge's this way." Kieran followed behind him, and Charles cringed every time the other man tripped or stumbled, but he just waited patiently for him to keep up. What he really wanted to do was point Kieran in the right direction, give him a clip or two, tell him good luck and go look for Arthur. But Kieran was in pain, and he was scared out his mind, and Charles could spend the next five minutes making sure he got back to Lenny. 

It wasn't as hot back here, and he knew he was getting closer to the back. The smoke was clearing up too, and he could see more clearly in front of him. He moved faster now, forcing Kieran to keep up with him. 

A rustling, not even a rustling, a shifting of stones, pulled his hyperaware attention, and he leveled his gun towards the noise. He could see the back of a del Lobo, stumbling back, hand pressed toward his side. If he squinted hard enough, he could see the deep red trail marking his path. 

He let him pass. 

"Charles," Kieran breathed quietly behind him, and Charles wanted to tell him to shut up, but his voice sounded tight, so he turned to look at him.