Born Wild

“Over h—” cough, cough, cough. Hot blood poured down his chin and tasted like rusting iron on his tongue. He could smell it. Its metallic aroma tunneled into his nose, and he briefly flashed back to that time in Afghanistan when he arrived on the scene of a brutal roadside bombing to see bloody, shredded bodies littering the street. Death had been imminent then. Death was imminent now. But first…“Over here!” he finally managed to garble.

The gunman peeked his head out from behind the door, and blue eyes, familiar blue eyes, narrowed on Bill.

Jesus Christ! Buchanan? What the hell? Why?

He saw the shiny, silver gun in Buchanan’s hand twitch, saw the evil black eye of the barrel focus on him. He squeezed his lids shut, waiting…waiting for the round that would take him out. But it wasn’t a bullet that slammed into him, flattening him to the ground. It was Eve.

He was flat on his back on the hard pavement, pain wracking him from head to toe. Still, he had no trouble seeing Eve’s beautiful, beloved face when she frantically pushed away, looming above him.

“Billy!” she cried when she saw the mess that was his chest. “Oh, God, Billy! Oh, God!”

She desperately pressed a hand over the gushing wound, but he knew it was useless. And if the terror on her face was anything to go by, she knew it was useless, too.

“Sh-shh,” he soothed her, coughing wetly, struggling to breathe, struggling to tell her this last thing before death came to claim him. “L-listen to m-me.” His voice was a garbled wreck, but she must’ve understood him because she quieted, her watery, red eyes intent on his face as her breath sawed from her lungs. “I love you, t- too.”

“Don’t you say that!” she wailed, bringing up her gun hand to wipe her runny nose on the back of her wrist. Then she whipped her T-shirt over her head, wadding it up and pressing it to the center of his chest. “You’re only saying that because you think this is good-bye! It’s not good-bye! Billy, it’s not—”

“It’s J-Jeremy,” he gurgled, watching her face pale. Her eyes flew wide. She shook her head in denial. He nodded and saw her throat work over a hard sob as realization dawned. “It’s Jeremy. He—”

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Bullets riddled the truck, and Eve jumped up to return fire. Bam! Bam! Then she squatted back down behind the wheel well, and he lamented the fact that he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t move. He’d used the last of his strength to stand and draw Buchanan’s fire. But maybe—no, there was no maybe about it—he would hold on long enough to get her through this. To give her an edge…

“Get him to talk,” he instructed through the blood that just kept filling his mouth over and over again no matter how much he swallowed or spit. She glanced down at him, her face so frightened, so very frightened, and oh, how he wished he could offer her some sort of comfort. But all he could offer her in these minutes, his last minutes, was his expertise, the hard lessons he’d learned from years on the battlefield.

“Get him t-to come out and—” He was nearly ripped apart by the next round of wet, ragged coughing, his mutilated lung struggling against all odds to continue to draw breath. The human body was amazing that way. It clung to life with sharp, jagged nails, fought for survival even in the midst of searing, mind-bending pain. “Get him to make a mistake,” he was finally able to finish.

He saw her swallow and nod. Then she lifted her chin and cried, “J-Jeremy?” Her voice was a rough parody of itself.

Silence met her call. Then, Jeremy finally bellowed, his tone that of a madman, “Why couldn’t you just fucking die?”

Bill watched Eve’s face cave in on itself, and for a brief moment he was afraid that the depth and breadth of her sorrow and betrayal might kill her quicker than any of Buchanan’s bullets. Then she squeezed her lids closed and dragged in a couple of shuddering breaths before opening her eyes and calling, “Why? Why are you doing this? Did Dad and Blake put you up to it?”

“Ha!” Jeremy yelled back. “Your father and ex-husband wouldn’t dare kill you. They fucking love you to pieces! Everyone fucking loves you to pieces! Even my own mother loved you best!”

“G-good,” Bill sputtered, struggling to keep his buzzing brain on the conversation, waiting for the one piece of the puzzle that would give Eve the upper hand. “Keep g-going.”

Eve nodded, rolling in her lips as tears streamed down her face. “Wh-what are you talking about, J- Jeremy?” she cried, her chest shuddering. “Your mother adored you!”

Even Bill could hear Buchanan’s snort. “Yeah. She adored me so much she drank and gambled and flitted her entire goddamn inheritance away! She left me next to nothing, Eve! Nothing!”

“J-Jeremy, I—”

“Shut up!”

She snapped her mouth closed, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to apply more pressure to the wound on Bill’s chest. He wanted to tell her it was useless, not to worry about it. But he needed to save his breath and his words for more important things.

“T-tell him,” he coughed. The pain was less. And while that felt good, in reality it was bad. Very, very bad. Pain equaled life in this little equation. “Tell him you’ll give him your m-money,” cough, “if he throws his weapon a-away.” Each word was a struggle. Each syllable a goddamn uphill battle.

Eve nodded, tears streaming unchecked down her face. She lifted her chin to do as he instructed.

Buchanan’s response was to riddle the truck with more bullets. Not that Bill should be surprised. Buchanan couldn’t back down now. He’d killed Bill—was that a movie? His sluggish neurons appeared to be misfiring. Then, the tire beside Eve exploded with a loud bloof followed by a thin, high-pitched whistle. Eve lifted the Glock over her head, angled it over the hood of the truck, and blindly returned fire. Bam! Bam! Click! Click!

And those last two sounds, the sounds of an empty clip, stopped Bill’s heart. Oh, God, Eve! No! No!

“Run!” he managed to garble. It was the only chance she had. Not a good chance. But still a chance.

“I won’t leave you.” She smiled sadly through her tears, scooting down until her back was supported by the blown tire and her long legs were stretched out in front of her. With gentle hands, she lifted his head into her lap.

“No.” He swallowed more blood. Black spots invaded his vision. “Run.”

“Shhh.” She ran her fingers through his hair. He could barely feel it. Oh, how he wished he could feel it.

“You’re out of ammo, Eve!” Buchanan called, tears of hysteria tainting his voice, the sound of his footsteps coming closer. “But I promise you I’m going to make this quick. I do love you, you know?” And Bill still had just enough faculties left to realize the man was shithouse crazy. And one hell of an actor. He’d fooled them all. “But I have to look out for myself! I’ve always had to look out for myself! You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to—”

Bill stopped listening because he felt something cool press against his shoulder. He slid his eyes to the side. And even though his vision was almost completely shot, he recognized the outline of his snubbie.

He choked on a sob of relief. And then there was only one piece of advice he had left to give her. “Don’t hesitate.”

He felt her nod more than he saw it. And he heard her throat stick when she swallowed.

As the sound of footsteps loomed louder, closer, he tried not to cough, tried not to wheeze, tried to keep as quiet as possible so Eve could hear the instant Jeremy rounded the front of the truck.

And then, it happened. He felt Eve’s arm jerk up, heard the subtle click of the trigger right before a shot echoed out over the parking lot. It was followed immediately by a second. Then, silence…

He couldn’t see what had happened. There was nothing but blackness now. But, in the next instant, he heard Eve drop the pistol to the ground, felt her lean over him as she was wracked by hard, wet sobs, and he knew. It was over. She’d won.

Relief slid through him on a warm, golden wave. Relief and love and…acquiescence.