Here's Part 5! I once again want to thank my editor, gungurl_300blk, for her time and trouble. How she puts up with my lousy spelling and grammar, I'll never know, but I'm grateful nevertheless. I also want to give all of you readers out there a HUGE thank you! You are the reason I keep writing! As always, those who are interested are encouraged to read the Author's Note at the end of the story. Enjoy! - CM
*****
"KEVIN!" I cried, barely able to stop myself from shaking him.
Suddenly, a pair of strong hands gripped me beneath my arms and lifted me away from my brother.
"NO!" I screamed, struggling.
"Stop it, girl!" came Chris's voice. His tone was commanding; it left me feeling as if I had no choice but to obey. "Hannah needs room to work!"
It was only then that I noticed Hannah kneeling by Kevin's side, examining him. She looked behind me.
"Britt, hand me the trauma kit! Beth, hold the light for me! Chris, keep a firm hold on her in case she loses it!"
A chorus of acknowledgments rang out, and I realized the children were behind me as well. A moment later, Hannah's blonde twin girls stepped into my field of view. One of them handed Hannah a large brown backpack that had a paramedic emblem on it. The other girl held a big police-style flashlight, which she switched on and pointed at Kevin's abdomen.
Hannah unzipped the backpack, and it opened up to reveal a huge selection of medical implements, vials, and a few IV bags. As I watched, she withdrew a stethoscope and applied it to my brother's chest, stopping to listen in several places. Next, she took his pulse, then she pulled out a blood pressure cuff and used it. After she finished with that, she hit me with a serious look.
"Gracie, honey, he's passed out," she said. "I know it looks bad, but it's actually a good thing."
"What?" I asked. "How so?"
"It's one of the ways our bodies deal with high levels of pain and stress, and he had to have really been hurting! Better that he avoid feeling this while he can," Hannah explained. "I won't sugar coat things: Kevin's in a bad way. However, he's not in immediate danger of death. We can take a minute to get some things done here!"
"If I let you go, will you stay out of the way?" Chris asked.
"Yes," I said, quietly.
Chris released me, but he stayed close to me just in case. I didn't blame him one little bit. I'm embarrassed to admit that for a moment, I was dangerously close to panic! I watched as Hannah carefully traced her way around Kevin's wounds, frowning in concentration. After a moment, she glanced over at the twin who'd brought her the trauma bag.
"Bethany, help me turn him on his side, please!"
"Yes, Mom!" she replied, moving to assist her mother.
I couldn't help but note, as I watched them work, that neither child was acting afraid. Showing a strength I wouldn't have guessed she had, Hannah rolled Kevin's limp form onto his side. Bethany supported Kevin's head and made sure he didn't roll completely over. Hannah carefully examined every inch of Kevin's back, even taking his shorts down to look lower. She frowned, apparently not liking what she saw.
"Damn," she said, softly.
"What?" I asked, dreading the answer.
"There are no exit wounds," Hannah said. "With a handgun, that's not all that uncommon. With a rifle, it's practically unheard of! Chris would you-"
Chris was obviously thinking along the same lines. Before his wife had finished her sentence, he had unslung the compact rifle Kevin had taken from one of our attackers, and ejected the magazine. He stared at the ammunition for a moment before looking back up at Hannah.
"These are frangible rounds, Hannah," he said, quietly.
Hannah closed her eyes briefly, and winced.
"Damn!" she said again, with more emphasis.
"What...what else is wrong?" I asked, fearfully.
"Frangible rounds are bad news," Chris said, simply. "You really don't need to know the details, just please take my word for it."
Hannah and Bethany gently lowered Kevin back down flat. Hannah then pulled out two of the IV kits and started a line in Kevin's right arm.
"I'm giving him some blood expanders, and some broad-spectrum antibiotics," she said as she worked. "But, we'll need to be extra careful with moving him."
She handed the IV bags to Bethany, who put away the flashlight so she could hold them up. The child looked down suddenly and frowned.
"Dad, he's got a pistol!" she said.
"Okay, honey," Chris replied. "Go ahead and secure the weapon."
"Yes, Dad," she said.
To my utter astonishment, the little girl reached down, plucked Kevin's pistol out of its holster, and unloaded it with deft, practiced motions! Having unloaded and checked it, she handed the weapon and the magazine to her father.
"Uh, excuse me for asking, but how old are you girls?" I asked.
"We're twelve," Bethany said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"And a half!" Brittany chimed in.
"I've never met kids your age that know how to handle firearms and help injured people! I'm very impressed!" I praised.
"Mom and Dad have taught us all kinds of stuff!" Brittany enthused. "We both like shooting! When I grow up, I want to be a sturgeon!"
Chris stifled a laugh, and Hannah smiled.
"That's surgeon, honey," she said after a moment.
"I'm gonna be a nurse like Mom and Aunt Jennifer," Bethany confided.
"What do you think about an ambulance?" Hannah asked Chris softly. "Medically speaking, we have the time, and the ride would do him less harm."
Chris sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
"I don't think so," he said. "With an ambulance, we'd also get the police. That's especially true when you're talking about gunshot wounds!"
"Okay, so why is that a problem?" Hannah asked.
Instead of speaking, Chris again unslung the compact rifle Kevin had taken. He held it out so Hannah and I could see the left side of the receiver. There, stamped into the metal, were the words "Military/Law Enforcement Use Only," and right below that, "Property of Highland, IN Police SWAT."
My blood ran cold. I remembered Kevin saying that the HPD Chief's name was on Trent's list of clients, but the true meaning of that fact hadn't really sunk in - until now!
"My God!" I whispered, horrified. "They were cops?"
Chris nodded his head affirmatively.
"Oh yeah, they were cops," he said, firmly. "I know that clown over there."
He gestured at the body that was sprawled out on the ground nearest to us.
"I don't know him well, but I do know him. He's the team leader for one of the two SWAT teams the HPD has. He's a member of my gun club. He's also an overbearing as...uh, jerk. Besides the two guys in suits, there were also two uniformed officers that showed up right before all the shooting started, although you might not have seen them, Grace," he finished.
"Yes," I said, slowly, as I thought back. "I do remember seeing them, actually."
Hannah gazed at her husband, deeply alarmed.
"But, the hospital is always full of police, too!" she said. "If we can't trust them, how..."
She broke off her sentence and sat back on her haunches. She looked back and forth between me, Chris, and Kevin.
"He's going to need surgery to get the bullets fragments out and to repair any damage to his internal organs. Otherwise, he might contract peritonitis, or even worse," she said. "There's no avoiding that! We'll need a surgeon and an operating room."
"You can't do it?" I asked.
"No," she said, flatly. "I can stitch small wounds, but this kind of thing requires a bona fide surgeon."
"Then we have no choice," I said. "Call an ambulance, then get yourselves out of here. You have a family to protect, and you've already done more for us than I could ever repay you for!"
Neither Chris nor Hannah moved a muscle.
"Go on!" I urged them. "You have a family to protect! I'm not going to have you risk yourselves or your kids for me and Kevin! That's not right! Just let me borrow your cell phone long enough to call 911!"
"Mom, Dad, I don't wanna leave them," Brittany said.
"Me either," Bethany echoed. "It isn't right! They're in bad trouble, and we can help!"
"For better or for worse, we're already involved up to our noses, anyway," Chris stated. "We were in the park when that Charger pulled in, and I'm pretty sure they ran our plates. When the shooting started, they knew we hadn't left, so they knew there were potential witnesses close at hand. They knew we'd all seen their faces. They opened fire anyway!"
Chris shared a look with his wife, then looked steadily at me.
"I'm pretty sure you can put those facts together and figure out what they mean for yourself."
He was right, of course. There could only be one reason they weren't worried about witnesses, and that would be because they planned to take care of the problem before they left. Of course, they never planned on there being any resistance to their murder plot! The thought of murdering a whole family wouldn't bother people like them in the least; not if it meant they had a chance of staying out of prison!
Hannah and Chris shared another look; the silent communication between the two of them was of a kind you only see in couples who've been together for a long time, or who have a very strong bond with one another. The moment they reached a decision was obvious.
"I'll go get the truck," Chris said.
He looked at me and held out the rifle.
"Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked.
"Kevin tried to show me how to use his AR-15 a couple of times, but I'm more comfortable with a handgun," I told him, and showed him my Smith & Wesson Shield that still rode in its holster.