Page 4 of Fury

His lungs refused the request.

He tried again. Oxygen rushed in, thick with gasoline and smoke from the fully engulfed HiLux. Coughing, gagging, ears ringing, head bombarded by warbled voices he couldn’t place, Davis scrambled but got nowhere. Blinked through the haze. Where was Fury? He couldn’t move. Was pinned to the ground. By what? His shoulder screamed at him, and he felt like a truck was lodged in his ribs.

Gingerly, Davis looked down the length of his body. Spotted jagged metal sticking out of his side. It’d managed to lodge itself between the cracks of his PPE. That was gonna leave a mark.

He groaned. Choked on another wave of pain dragging him toward unconsciousness.

Gotta stay awake. Get Fury.

Wait. Fury. Where was he?

Davis looked around, not caring about the pain it caused. Ears still ringing, he saw flames from the truck coiling and twisting upward. They snapped at the night sky. Then he saw.

Fury. Lying a few yards away.

“Fur—” He coughed—which sent shards of pain through his chest. “Fury!” His diaphragm seized, and fear clutched his chest. Squeezed tight as he strained through the dust and smoke hanging in the air.

The big lug wasn’t moving. Davis twisted to look over his shoulder. Call for help. Nausea rose in his throat.

Luke. Or what was left of him.

Davis cursed.

In the light from the fire, he saw his friend’s body lying in a heap, cut nearly in half by a chunk of the pickup, eyes open and unseeing. Reza, a few feet beyond her handler. She was?—

Davis retched.

No, no.

A guttural half yell spilled from him. He tried to scoot closer. Tried to get to his friend, but the metal in his side held him fast. Pain had him seeing black spots. The contents of his stomach nearly made another appearance.

“Luke!” The yell vibrated in his chest. His head.

“Ledger. Keep still.” Shaw appeared. Dropped at his side, combat lifesaver kit open. “Pearly’s gone.” He shook his head and went to work on Davis. He activated the quick-releases on Davis’s vest, then carefully ran his fingers around the edges before checking for a clear airway and moving on to extremities. Expression hard, Shaw finally began packing field dressings around the metal object projecting from Davis’s side.

Pain ripped through him.

“Reza . . . ” Davis could feel himself teetering on the edge of blacking out.

Shaw shook his head somberly. “Medevac is three mikes out.”

What had he done? Had Hardy been outside the whole time? Was that what Fury’d been trying to tell him before they entered the home?

Luke. He’d gotten his friend killed. Should have been him out the door first.

“Whoa! Fury, out!”

Davis blinked. Looked for the source of the shout. Fury was up—alive!—and trotting around the truck. Looking. Searching. For Davis? For his furry friend? He wouldn’t be working any more missions with her. The landshark snapped at Niles, who jumped back, gripping his rifle.

“Quit, man!” Niles screeched.

“Fury, here!” Davis gruffed, the pain excruciating at the effort of calling his dog off.

The GSD’s large head whipped in his direction and he charged. Shaw leaned back slightly as Fury came in hot. The lug’s wet tongue was all over Davis’s face the second he got close. He dug his fingers in his dog’s hairy coat.

“Hey, buddy.” He chuckled, distracted for a split second from the agony. “You okay, then? Just wanted to give me a heart attack?” He did his best not to look at Luke’s body. Tried not to think about Jana and the notification she’d be getting.

The sable German shepherd lay down beside him and set his head on Davis’s good shoulder.

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