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We left Nugget at Wright-Patterson and so, because he ran once and his sister died, Zombie decides he's going back to get him.
The plan was simple in his mind: Ringer will shoot him so they don't immediately hook him up to Wonderland and spoil the plan. Then, Zombie will go find Nugget in whatever barrack he happens to be in.
There were a million flaws-- how would he get out of the hospital with sutures without ripping them? What happens if he gets caught at any point in time? What if Nugget's already dead?-- but Zombie keeps saying something about how a quarterback makes their decision on the field. It sounds like complete bullshit to me, but he seems to know what he's doing so I leave him alone.
I shakes my head at Zombie. "You're fucking nuts."
"Thanks," he says sarcastically. Then he nods at Dumbo. "Think you can keep her alive for 48 hours?"
"Doesn't matter." Ringer tucks a string of black hair behind her ear. "Because you're taking her with you."
Dumbo, who turns red when we turn to him, nods in agreement and ducks his head. "It could get infected."
"Great." I grab my rifle and send Zombie a bitter smile. "Hope you're ready to be the sidekick again, Sarge, because I don't plan on dying yet."
__
Zombie and I crouch behind the Korean War statue, waiting for the chopper. He's behind me with one hand against my wound and the other on his. His hot breath fans my cheek from the close proximity. "You better not die on me, private." I wait for him to smile but it never comes. He's completely serious. "Don't you dare, Sofia. Don't you dare."
I don't look back at him. I feel lightheaded again. "Can't make a promise that big, Ben. Not anymore."
He opens his mouth to say something but the sound of his voice is overpowered by the blades of the Black Hawk, soaring above us. I can barely lift my head up to see if it's real or a hallucination from the blood loss. Zombie pulls me up when the chopper comes far enough down to board. We both book it to the open doors, desperate to get inside.
"Where's the rest of your unit?" The pilot from the front seat. God, can he shut up? My head is pounding.
Zombie, hoisting me into a seat farthest from the door. "Go! Go!"
I grip his shoulders, hard, trying to get him seated before the chopper lifts up. He falls back over two seats, gasping for breath. I slump to the floor, head bouncing back to his thigh and staying there, too tired to move. I can't even get up to put pressure on either of us wounds. His blood drips from his side to my shoulder, covering it in a thick layer of crimson.
The pilot stares at us from the front seat, wide-eyed. "Soldiers, where's the rest of your unit?"
"Go, go, go!" Zombie shouts at the top of his lungs. With every "Go!" more blood seeps out of him and onto my shoulder.
I manage to turn my head, look up at him through drooping eyelids. "Zombie." He can't lift his head, his eyes keep rolling. "Z-Zombie?" His free hand connects with one of mine, the stretch I have to do to make it possible had my eyes rolling backwards, body slumping. It hurts so damn much.
The last thing I hear is the sound of Zombie whispering, "I'm coming. I promise."
