Two and Three

To Face Reality

Lisha's lips tingled as if they were echoing the memory of a distant burn. Tony's weight pressed down against her chest with deep implication, the heat of his body flooding onto her skin even though several layers of clothing separated them. She tried not to think of what every book she'd ever read had said about people with badly treated open wounds. She tried not to think about the light sheen of sweat over Tony's face or the dead, cold, stiffness of Abbie's hands.

"So what did I miss?" Abbie whispered hoarsely. "Is that guy calling in a ransom request or something?"

Lisha and Michael shared a look. The sax player opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it before she could make a sound. "Yeah, I think so. They'll pay up and we'll be out soon." He smiled reassuringly.

Abbie squeezed his hand and forced herself to sit up. "Promise?" She whispered.

"Yeah....promise."

Lisha looked down at her hands and sank her teeth down into her lips to keep from saying anything. Time passed, though how much of it she didn't know. There was no clock, no shadows, nothing to differentiate each minute from the one before it. Lisha couldn't remember the last time she slept, but it felt like forever ago. A cold draft floated in from a ventilation dock high above their heads and with Tony's body pressed up against her like a breathing, feverish blanket; she could almost imagine she was sitting on the practice field during lunch.

Now that Abbie had finally awakened, Michael took the liberty of coaxing her back to sleep. As long as she wasn't passed out, it would be better that way. She needed the healing sleep desperately. The concrete ground hardly provided a suitable resting environment, but there was nothing they could do about that. With Tony knocked out cold and Abbie on the brink of sleep, Lisha decided it was best she checked their wounds while they wouldn't complain about it. She tugged Tony's jacket out from under his leg and wadded it up to place underneath his head like a pillow, then gingerly moved to examine the bullet hole.

It had hit straight into the fleshy back part of his right leg. She lifted it up gingerly for examination and discovered that there was no exit wound. The bullet was probably embedded in the bone. Lisha took a deep breath then pulled her T-shirt off over her head, leaving her in only a charcoal grey cami to guard her from the cold. She wrapped the shirt as tightly as she could around his leg and looked around for something to fasten it with. Coming up short, she undid her belt quickly and pulled it tight over the wound. Tony gasped and whimpered in his unconscious state, then quickly fell silent as his sleep stole him away again.

She brushed her hair away from her face before sitting back on her hunches.

God, Tony...I never thought I'd ever take so much clothes off for you. Maybe your charm is real to a severe degree....

Despite everything, the thought brought a thin smile to Lisha's face. The bleeding had slowed for the most part, but the skin around the wound was red and swollen to about three times the size it should have been. Before the area had been covered with the shirt, she caught sight of thick pus seeping through the ragged hole in his jeans.

How long has they been in there? Was it long enough for infection to set in? Or Gang Green?

She murmured a silent prayer before moving over to Abbie. The bullet was shot straight into her gut at close range, and no matter what she did, she couldn't get the wound to stop bleeding. She and Michael were taken turns applying pressure, but that only staunched the blood flow. There was nothing else they could do.

"How is she?" She whispered to Michael.

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's been slowing....but your jacket isn't enough, she bled through it."

Lisha knawed on her bottom lip and didn't say anything as Mike shed his own shirt, leaving his torso bare to the cold cellar air. How long would it be before they were freezing to death in only their underwear, just to slow the hopeless bleeding of their childhod friends. Tony was right about one thing, it seemed to be getting colder in that cellar with each hour that passed.

Would he even brother to give them blankets... or food to keep up their strengths?

Lisha sighed and leaned into Abbie's side to give her arms a rest. "Why did you lie to her?" She asked quietly.

Michael shrugged. "I don't want her under any unnecessary stress."

"But she's going to find out sooner or later. She's going to know. Do you really want her upset with you for lying at a time like this?"

He looked down at his feet. "We'll get her out of here before that happens. Once you all are safe, you'll tell her the truth of what really went down. Or make something up if you can."

She gave him a pointed look, she didn't miss the fact that he didn't include himself in that scenario. "Why did you say 'you all'?"

He didn't say anything.

"Michael."

"That motherfücker said two of us are going to die. Do you really think someone will find us before it's too late?"

Well isn't somebody just a sunny optimist.

The truth was, she didn't. "It doesn't hurt to believe."

"We don't know how far he took us, or how deep underground we are --or if we're even underground at all," Michael paused and glared at the ceiling. "He's already chosen the ones he wants to die. They're arteries are busted, Lisha. And God knows what's happening to Ian. If we don't act first, how long do you think it'll be before one or both of them falls asleep and just doesn't wake up?"

"And what the Hell do you plan on doing about it?"

He took a deep breath, his ceiling glare turning soft. "I don't know," it came out as a whisper. "Maybe... face reality?"