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"WE SHOULD PUT HIM OUT OF HIS MISERY." Schofield suggests, shaking his head.
Blake glares at his friend. "No. Get him some water. He needs water." He instructs Schofield before turning to Mags. "What can you do? You have to have something that can help him!"
"I'll look." She shook her head as she turned to dig around in her bag behind her. She can hear him comforting the pilot as Schofield moves to the water pump. This is a mistake, she tells herself. As much as she appreciated Blake's valor, he was being reckless. Who's the reckless one now, she thought, Schofield's face appearing in her mind. As she digs through her bag, a sharp pain erupts in the back of her left bicep. Mags exclaims in pain, grabbing the area. When she pulled her hand back, her eyes widened at the blood that completely covered her palm.
Turning, she yells as the German's knife plunges into Blake's stomach. Schofield turns at the sound of her shouts. He drops the helmet of water and pulls his rifle around. Aiming, he shoots the pilot in the shoulder. With a burst of adrenaline, Mags grabs the knife in his hand and thrusts it into his neck. Her eyes widen as she watches blood seep from the wound. The pilot drops to the ground as he wheezes his last breaths.
Both Mags and Schofield make their way over to Blake as he collapses onto the ground. Her stained fingers begin unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. Recoiling back, she winces at the blood that is quickly spreading through his clothes. "Will, grab my pack." She demands as she holds pressure on Blake's wound. He yells out in pain, trying to push her hands away, but she refuses to give. "Shut up, Tom. I need to apply pressure."
Schofield brings her pack and sets it next to him.
"Grab the alcohol, the gauze, and the bandage wrap." The soldier is quick to begin rooting through the pack, pulling out the items that she requested. She holds her left hand out to grab the flask. "I need you to hold him down, okay?" Schofield nods, pushing Blake's shoulders back.
"What are you doing?" Blake asks, tears streaming down his face. "Let go of me! Get off!"
"This is for your good, Tom." Mags reassures him before pulling his button-up and undershirt up. Her eyes widen at the sight of the wound. A large gash on his abdomen practically gushes blood. He'd need stitches at the least. She didn't have that. Shaking away any negative thoughts, she begins to pour the alcohol onto the wound. He screams in pain, fighting against Schofield. Both Mags and Schofield blink away tears at their friend's pain.
Setting the flask to the side, she begins quickly placing gauze on the wound in an attempt to stifle the flow of blood. She grabs the bandaging and begins wrapping it around his waist. She has Schofield help her lift Blake when she needs to wrap it around his back. Her hands quickly place themselves against the wound as pressure. "I've done all I can do." Mags' gaze moves to Schofield. Her eyes hold no hope as she gently shakes her head.
