The Thrill of Anarchy

Chapter Eight

The pain was instantaneous; a hot poker piercing through my right shoulder. My legs caved and I sank to the floor. I clasped my hand to my collar bone, trying to stem the blood flow from the room. My vision started to darken and blur. I blinked desperately and tried to focus on Alexander. His grip on the gun was loose and his face had lost all colour. I got the feeling he had never shot anyone before. He looked as close to passing out as I felt.

I tried to tell him to put the gun down, but every time I opened my mouth there was a sharp jolt of pain from my shoulder. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth; I'd seen enough films to know that wasn't good. I looked down and removed my hand from the entry point; blood spurted from the wound the moment I released pressure. Nausea overcame me, and I leaned over to puke. It came out thickened with blood. There was too much blood for a shoulder wound. He'd only gone and hit a major artery.

My vision was extremely narrow. I guessed I had less than a minute remaining before I succumbed to blood loss. My head was too heavy to lift, so I couldn't tell where Alexander was. Using my last ounce of energy, I grabbed my shirt and ripped it hard. I balled the piece of fabric and stuffed it into the wound, hoping it would stem the bleeding when I could no longer keep the pressure on it.

I wobbled and fell to my side. Alexander had lowered the gun but hadn't moved otherwise. The fucker was going to stand there and watch me die. Just before I closed my eyes for what felt like the last time, the door behind Alexander burst open. Cain stormed in, knocked Alexander aside and strode over to me. His face was still covered in his own blood, but the purple bruise that had prevented him from opening his eye in the basement had mysteriously vanished. As he scooped me not his arms and walked me out the door, I remembered being vaguely surprised that he was there. But the pain stopped me from thinking about it too much. He was probably a hallucination caused by blood loss. The last thing I heard before slipping into the darkness was my own staggering breaths.

The feeling of tongs poking around my shoulder woke me up. In my dazed state, I thought it was a fly and went to swat it but found that I couldn't move my hands. My eyes shot open and I found myself staring up at some guy's hairy nostrils. He was holding my wrists down and his brown hair and stubble took up ninety per cent of my view. I was positive I had never seen him before, so I shook my arms harder this time to get his attention. He looked down and swore. His eyes were brown.

"Cain, she's awake," he said. I heard a familiar voice curse. I lifted my head as much as I could and saw Cain standing at my side, wearing a pair of disposable gloves. In his one had was some cotton wool in his other hand was a set of small tongs. I followed these tongs down and saw that the other end was inside of me, just below the collar bone.

"Cain, what the hell are you doing?" I yelled and tried to struggle free. Then, I realised I was in pain. I saw white for a moment and heard the stranger curse as he put his weight on to my wrists.

"Keep her still!" Cain snapped at the man holding my arms. Cain didn't look up; he chewed on his tongue, a look of absolute concentration on his face.

"I'm trying to, but she's stronger than she looks!" the man replied and tightened his grip. I kicked my feet but found they were also immobilised by something heavy, so I doubled my effort with my arms. If I could just get free, I could stop the immense pain stemming from my upper chest.

"Jesus Stephan! Keep her still!" Cain yelled.

The man named Stephan looked down at me with panic in my eyes. I tried to headbutt him, but he dodged out of the way without letting go of my wrists. I writhed and writhed until something in the guy's face switched. I barely had time to register his fist sailing towards my face.