In The Blood

Let's Go

(Avi)

"Guys!"

The five of us, now on hyper alert, swung our heads to the source of the sound, of the voice calling to us. We had just been through hell, had been scared sick, had very nearly been killed. We nearly lost Mitch, threatened with a bullet in his head to the point of near-total inaction. Kirstie and Scott had fought so hard to keep Mitch out of his grasp, to keep him as safe as possible during an extremely dangerous couple of minutes, but despite their best efforts, they had not been successful. I'd never seen Scott, friendly to everyone Scott, raise a hand to anyone ever before, but he had there, fighting with everything he had to keep his best friend out of harm's way, punching and kicking Har—Eli. It was Eli, not Harris. Very first thing Eli had done to Scott was aim that boot right between his legs. I didn't know if it was adrenaline, instinct to survive, instinct and drive to protect Mitch at all costs or what, but he didn't even go down at first. Having been kneed or accidentally hit myself a time or two, I know that's not something a man can ignore or just not feel. He had to be in terrible pain even at the first kick that was meant to incapacitate him, yet it took two to knock him to his knees. He wouldn't give up on protecting Mitch. Who had zero chance of protecting himself. In tiptop condition, Mitch would have a fifty-fifty chance. With his dominant wrist broken, Mitch was just too vulnerable. Obviously the most vulnerable of all of us. And clearly, the one of us whose capture would hurt us all the most. The threat of a bullet in his brain near constant, there was nothing the two most likely and capable of fighting could do. Especially with both Eli and Linda acting together. Home Free could have and would have fought, all five of them, if that gun isn't pressed to Adam's head. And oh my God, the fight to get Adam free, the fight to capture Adam. Chance had thrown himself at Tim, knowing the target on his back, knowing how important it was to keep Tim safe. It only took me a split second to see that wrist flop although he refused to show weakness, undoubtedly a learned response. Didn't even grab for it with his right hand, just held that hand on his hip, in utter determination to do what was necessary to keep himself and his friends in best position for survival. And he was covering Tim though wounded himself. As soon as the supposed Sandy had bowled him over, Adam had popped up and thrown one arm up to protect his face and the other out to defend himself. But that belt was already off and out. Rob had pounced but the belt was around Adam's neck in no time and Austin had come in, kicking, punching, and trying to unwrap him. Rob's first punch had knocked her off her feet, then the second punch stilled her for a few seconds though her hand held tight on the belt, Adam struggling to breathe and hands clawing out at his assailant. Too bad she came back to and promptly threw a fist through Rob's glasses. Unable to see clearly, Rob had had a harder time fighting though he kept it up until he was kneed not once but twice. The sound of his fists on her head, her face, the sounds of him knocking her head onto the ground, was something I'd never forget. The supposed Sandy was fighting to capture, incapacitate, and perhaps kill Adam (she'd come close), and she was fighting for her life at that point. Austin had her down with his kicks and stomps. She'd held that belt around Adam's neck, and Rob was fighting to incapacitate or kill because he knew that was the only way she'd let go of Adam. Unconscious or dead. I wouldn't have blamed him one bit if he had killed her, and no jury in the world would convict him of killing someone trying to kill him. The supposed Sandy had kicked him between the legs twice and Austin once, sending slight Austin flying and on top of Chance and Tim. Poor Tim had gone into a massive panic attack when he'd seen Adam with the gun to his head and was forced to deal with it without medication as she wouldn't let him get his pills, and I had done something I had sworn I would never do. I had no choice and I knew one wrong move, one wrong sound, would get Tim and the rest of us killed. I'd not wanted to let anyone, especially not my group, hear the words I'd written, afraid they'd criticize, afraid they'd hear my heart, my desire to just get away from it all. I had thought it may be a chance to help Tim though. I had to do something to calm Tim, or else he'd panic, scream, and get shot to death. So I sang the one verse I'd written for Fields and Pier, praying it'd reach him, that his mind would hear the lyrics, the my group would not question my writing. It did seem to help enough that he'd stopped yelling, and he had the intelligence to figure out how to stand up despite extremely muddy hands. There was one heart-stopping moment when he slipped and that gun was aimed at his head, but he got up, only to have the gun fired at him just a few minutes later. My heart had frozen in my chest, knowing that I was watching my friend die, my one true confidant with whom I'd been one hundred percent open and honest. When first he then Rob went down, I wasn't sure which had been shot. One bullet can't kill two people. All I knew was the deafening crack and, once my ears stopped ringing, the screams. Adam pulling at Linda, screaming Rob's and Tim's names. Austin and Chance at the top of their lungs. Mitch and Kirstie shrieking. Scott and I screaming and crying. I looked to my my rock, for Kevin, to my left, where I'd last seen him. I didn't know what he thought he was doing. He had been moving and I was afraid he'd get himself shot. One step to the left. Another step to the left. Two steps. One more. I'd seen Eli eye him a time or two and I'd seen Linda watching him watch Kevin. It seemed Eli was more concerned about him than Linda was. She'd shaken her head at Eli once as if to tell him not to worry about him. Immediately after Tim or Rob had been shot, Kevin had been a few steps to my left, slightly behind Eli. I had even issued a silent prayer that Eli would A, not shoot Mitch; B, not shoot me, Scott, or Kirstie; and C, not shoot Kevin. It seemed he'd been put in charge of controlling us and she was in charge of controlling Home Free. I prayed Linda would not A, finish off Tim; B, shoot Adam; or C, shoot anyone else. I'd been moving my eyes between Kevin, Eli with the gun to Mitch's head, and Linda with the gun to Adam's head. Mitch had closed his eyes, probably scared to death, and jutted his hip to the left. Apparently worried he'd throw up again, Eli had let him scoot a few inches to the left. His dominant side. Eli'd always been holding him by his right side, with his injured but dominant left side free. I'd about leapt out of my skin when Mitch fell—had Eli shot him silently? He tumbled to his butt easily, apparently not entirely surprised by the movement. What was surprising was Eli on the ground—and who was on top of him. Kevin. My religious, conscientious, and gentle best friend had come out of nowhere, bowled over Eli, kneed him, and torn the gun out of his hand. Eli still on the ground, it was a straight shot to Linda. He had run past Chance and bowled her over, a fight for the gun ensuing. Kevin Olusola was fighting—or at least, disarming. No punches had been thrown, but KO had KO'ed Eli, shouting at Mitch to kick the gun away. Mitch looked understandably shellshocked. I knew I was. Never in a hundred years would I have imagined Kevin in a fight to disarm. But he had thrown himself into it. Kevin ripped the gun out of Linda's hand and threw it as hard as he could away and out of the yard. Eli still down, Linda was yelling about broken wrists and giving orders of who to kill first, second, and third, and how to do it. Kevin had done the impossible. Kevin had disarmed not one but two people—only to end up in crosshairs himself as Eli came to and grabbed the gun at Mitch's feet. He really should have kicked that away. I saw the fear in Kevin's eyes when Eli took direct aim at him, muttering terrible things under his breath about 'never trusting' those people who look like him. If Kevin heard them, he ignored them. Odds were he was too busy praying to hear or care. Then Smith and Jav. I'd seen the female guard a few times earlier, having kept a close eye on Jessica all evening. She'd been in the background most of the time, but she was up front and center for this. With a baton to Linda's head. Now I am a fairly nonviolent person, but even I had to admit that I wanted to see Linda beat with it. She'd shot and maybe killed Tim and/or Rob. Make. Her. Pay. For that. With her own life if necessary. When she did move to grab Jav's arm, teeth bared as if to bite her, Jav struck and hit her with a resounding thump. Down. Confirmed one hundred percent down and neutralized. It was just Smith and Eli, Smith warning him three times to drop his weapon before Eli tried to call a bluff. Turned out he wasn't bluffing. Smith had had him backed to the building and cuffed before he pushed him inside, the medics swarming as soon as the scene was secure. Scott, his own injury notwithstanding, had sent every single medic to Rob. Granted, he and Tim did need all the help they could get. I was shaking like a leaf and still jumping at every unexpected sound, wincing at every unexpected movement. Kevin had run over to me and slid his arm around me (I'd jumped a foot as soon as I felt his arm around my shoulder). He'd tried to pat my crazy hair (less crazy than Kirstie's though) back in place, whispering in my ear that everything would be fine now, quiet but strong reassurances. Unbreakable Kevin. Minutes ago frightened when under fire, frightened but fighting for what he knew was right, fighting to save us, fighting to give us a chance in near unsurmountable odds, frightened but never losing hope. His telling Linda that it was hopeless was the biggest lie ever. I knew Kevin better than she ever would or could, or cared to, and I knew that as long as there was breath in his lungs, he never would or could lose hope. Because he's Kevin. Kevin told a lie, Kevin told a lie, Kevin told a lie! He was forced to lie. He would be on his knees tonight for a very long time, thanking God for those of us still alive, for His intervention in keeping most of us safe, begging and pleading for Rob's and Tim's lives, praying for forgiveness for his own actions—for knocking Eli unconscious (however briefly), for breaking Linda's wrist (however inadvertent), and because he is who is is, praying for Linda and Eli, that He would save their souls and that they would see His light and love and change their ways. Kevin just held me tight, my head close to his chest, until the fear started to subside a little, until I could hear and feel his heart slow and calm down, until the helicopter lifted Rob high into the air, a critical case whose odds of survival were dismal. I was grateful, at least, that Tim's biggest issue was a broken shoulder. A broken shoulder would hurt like hell but it never killed anyone. And then Tim started screaming his head off. Another massive panic attack. Understandably so, but every move he made was aggravating his shoulder, his broken bones. And the EMTs didn't have the slightest idea about his history, his panic, his anxiety, his PTSD that had to have just doubled in intensity, in severe traumatic stressors. Oh my God, Tim was on the brink already; this'd drive him over the ledge. He was unreasonable, inconsolable, unreachable, and uncooperative. He was screaming, crying, in deep, deep, deep hurt. He wasn't even himself—he actually turned combative, screaming Jenika's name, Linda's name, Eli's name, and someone called Kelsey's name. Chance tried to reassure him and get him to take his medicine, and Austin tried as well only to get punched. Once and he cowered but stayed, still trying to help. Twice and he threw his left arm up to protect his eyes only, not to retaliate in the least or to try to defend himself, but to get the medicine. Three times and Chance tried to help, tried to slink a hand into his pocket to get it only to get punched in the jaw himself. Four times on Austin, second time on Chance, and first time on an EMT, the brunette woman EMT grabbed an injection needle and went after him from behind, managing to inject a sedative of sorts into his rear. He screamed bloody murder at that and Chance and Kirstie went off on him. Tim continued to thrash until I reverted back to singing the Fields and Pier verse that had worked earlier. He actually chilled—and even told Mitch to shut up when he tried to interrupt me.