Page 54 of One Kill

“He-he’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving? Dad? Daddy? Wake up, Daddy.” Hallie’s broken words are like a dagger to my soul, but she’s young. This amount of blood is scary at the best of times, but he’ll be okay. We just need to get him inside.

“Crank, move her. We need to get Murphy inside. Now!” My chest is heaving, adrenaline coursing through my veins, urgency pushing at every instinct I have.

“Boss…”

“I said, move her, Crank. We can’t stand around. Get him in the fucking house.”

Hallie’s cries aren’t slowing down and I don’t blame her. In fact, I envy her ability to display every emotion so freely.

“No! Put me down!” She’s struggling to break free of Crank’s grip as Tab steps up to the truck, moving in to grab Murphy. “Daddy!”

“Boss…” Tab’s usually steady voice is shaky, unsure as he stands to his full height with slumped shoulders.

“What?” I’m frustrated that he’s not moving, not hurrying to get Murphy into the house for the doc.

It’s a secluded location so Hallie’s cries are luckily not drawing any more unwanted attention.

My eyes are on Tab, blocking out the cries from my daughter to pay attention to what is obviously so much more important than the job at hand. Then my stomach sinks as he shakes his head, lowering his eyes in an apology that I don’t want.

I won’t believe it. I can’t believe it.

My heart is thumping at an impossible rate, my head pounding, my body shaking, my vision blurring as I shove Tab aside. “Move.” I climb into the back of the truck to do what needs doing myself. “Come on, Murph.” He’s pale, his eyes closed from the blood loss, no doubt, as I grab him under the arms and heave him out of the car. “Don’t just stand there, Tab. Help me.”

Murphy’s legs slide out of the car after him and Tab immediately lifts them, following me silently into the open door of the house where the doc is waiting.

“First door on the left.”

I follow the doc’s instructions, adrenaline being the only thing giving me strength right now, and head into the side room with a bed in the center. There are medical-looking tables and equipment beside it, and the doc follows us in as we gently place Murphy on the bed.

Hallie’s cries are quieter now, subdued somewhat, and I’m thankful. She doesn’t need this kind of pain in her life.

“Looks like a head injury and a shot to the chest. Bullet’s still in there, no through hole.” I’m to the point with my description of his wounds, needing the doc to get to work quickly. The fact that Murph has passed out isn’t a great sign.

Pacing the rough-carpeted floor, I take a deep breath and wait for the doc’s assessment as he does whatever medical doctor checks he needs to do. Feeling for a pulse and… wait, why isn’t he…

“J, he’s gone. We’re too late.”

No.

I did not hear that right.

“Check a-fucking-gain.” I move over to the bed, grabbing Murph’s wrist and feeling for a pulse myself… I check his neck… my mind is racing and my own heart is banging so hard against my chest that I can’t feel Murph’s heartbeat under my fingertips. Placing my head on his chest, I listen closer, putting my palm under his nose to check his breathing.

He’s not moving.

His heart isn’t beating.

There are no breaths.

I can’t…

I just can’t…

This isn’t happening. Not again.

“Doc, do something!” My voice is a scream to even my own ears. “Fucking do something! Stop fucking staring at me and save him!” I press the heel of my hand to the center of Murphy’s chest, placing my other palm over it, and begin chest compressions. Pushing down on his chest before giving two rescue breaths and trying again.

I don’t know how long I do this for, all I do know is that tears are streaming down my face with every compression that doesn’t bring him back.

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