Not So Different

Chapter 10

A burst of light and a deafening BOOM erupted from the other end of the pub.  All I could hear was a ringing in my ears but I could tell people were screaming as those still able ran around like decapitated chickens.  I felt Chris' arms rap around me protectively as another blast went off, closer.  The force of it knocked both of us off our feet and I felt pieces of super heated shrapnel pelt my body like arrows.  Heat roiled over us and the haze of cigarette smoke in the pub was transformed into clouds of black acrid smoke.  My lungs began to seize as breathing became difficult.

As the ringing lessened I felt strong hand pull me up right.  Chris' concerned face, which had a few nasty scratches on it,  filled my vision.  I noticed one of Chris' contact had been knocked out in the explosion and his mix matched pair of one green and one cat like yellow looked me over.  A slight frown flicked over Chris' expression and he reached a hand up to the side of my head in my curly hair.  When his hand pulled back it was red.

I stood there, dumbfounded by why Chris' hand was red, then my vision began to swim.  I could feel myself swaying a little and Chris reached out a hand, the non-bloody one, to steady me.  He opened his mouth to say something but the lady from the bar appeared next to us and said urgently, "Come on, we need to get you two out of here now, especially you girl."  Then she noticed Chris steadying me and the blood I assumed was turning my hair red and swore.  She walked over and put my arm over her shoulder, taking some of my body weight.  Chris moved to do the same and I noticed he moved with a slight limp.  A red spot was slowly blossoming on his pants leg.  "Y-your l-leg," I said but he shook his head.

"Just a flesh wound.  Your's is more of a concern right now," He replied then put my other arm over his shoulder and wound his arm around my waist, taking most of the rest of my weight. 

"Come on this way," The lady said jerking her head to the door we had been headed to before the explosions happened.  She and Chris practically dragged me along.  I tried to protest and walk on my own but I found my feet were useless bricks at the end of my legs and my knees had turned to jelly.  After an eternity we reached the door and the lady flung it open and walked through, dragging me after her.  We walked into an alley way and I could see people running through the street at the entrance of the alley, screaming. 

The lady pointed to decrepit van running with a deep growling sound at the end of the alley and said something to Chris but my mind felt fuzzy and it sounded like she was speaking under water.  We had gotten fifteen feet from the van when I heard loud yelling behind us.  I knew it must be loud because I could actually hear it.  Both the lady's and Chris' heads whipped back and both of their eyes widened.  Then they began to pull me faster.  The vans door opened and a man appeared inside of it.  Reaching out, he helped me, then the lady, and finally Chris into the van, all but the front seats missing.  I saw men rushing towards the van before the man who had helped us in slammed the door shut.  Then the van plowed backward and onto the street, then sped away from the men and the smoking remains of the pub.

As they tires of the van squealed my head started to throb dully and my thoughts turned slow, as if they had to wade through molasses.  As if sensing my unease, Chris turned to me and squeezed my hand and said, "Don't worry we'll get you fixed up."  Miraculously, Chris seemed to have saved the duffel bag from the explosion and brought it with him.  He unclasped my hand and opened the duffel and pulled out the little first aid kit.  From the kit he selected a cotton pad and the little bottle of hydrogen-peroxide, then brushed my hair away from the wound on my head.  When he began to gently clean the wound, I barely felt it.  I was pretty sure that wasn't a good sign.  After a few moments Chris finished cleaning the wound and then inspected it.

"How b-bad is it?"  I managed to get out but my voice sounded far away.

"Not too bad.  Head wounds bleed a lot," Chris said in a serious tone, "But I think you may have a concussion."