Page 95 of Waves of Fury

Wayne’s bleeding like a stuck hog.

“What do we do?” Hope asks, gesturing at Wayne’s bare, hairy ass that’s gushing with blood. “Tyler!”

I snap out of my daze and fumble through my kit. Amy was gracious enough to restock it with more supplies, including pain relievers, both over the counter and behind. I yank on some rubber gloves and then tear open one of the alcohol wipes. He yelps when I swipe it over the round hole that’s dead center on his right ass cheek.

“Did it go through?” I ask Hope.

She runs her hand down Wayne’s front and he mutters something about how hard it is not to get an erection when a hot chick is fondling him. I catch her eye roll, but relief shines in her gaze. If he can crack jokes, he’s going to be okay.

“No exit wound,” she confirms.

The truck bounces and swerves, which is going to make my next task a whole lot of fun. “I have to fish out the bullet.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Wayne says, making to sit up.

Hope pushes him back down. “No, you’re not. Don’t be a baby, you big oaf.”

He grumbles under his breath, this time griping about sassy women.

I pilfer through my kit until I find some scissors and a pair of tweezers. I soak both down with a clean alcohol wipe and then motion for Hope to hold the light closer to the hole. As gently as I can, I stick my pinky into the hole in his flesh.

Wayne curses like the sailor he is.

About an inch in, I feel the inorganic hardness of the bullet. We hit a bump and my pinky jams deeper.

“Fuck!” Wayne roars. “Get your finger out of my ass!”

Jesse cracks up laughing and then Wayne groans as he realizes what he just said. Smirking at Hope, I focus on using the tweezers to get this damn bullet out. I’ll use the scissors as a last resort.

Each time I get the tweezers around the end of the bullet, it slips off. It’s like playing that game Operation, but the stakes are a whole helluva lot higher than a noisy zap. I’m starting to wonder if I should cut the hole open a little wider. It’ll hurt and might make things worse, but we can’t leave the bullet in his ass.

When I finally get a good grip on the bullet, I pull, dislodging it. It takes a few more tugs and then it’s free. It hits the truck bed with a ping.

“It’s out, you big baby,” Hope teases.

Relief shines in her eyes and floods through my chest.

I spend the next several minutes rinsing his wound, stuffing it with gauze, and then bandaging it up. Because of its location, we’re going to need to change it often and most likely start him on the antibiotics Amy gave me. I’ll need to stitch it up, too, but not in the dark while hauling ass down the road in the back of a pickup truck. Fishing out the bullet was cruel enough. Stitching him up would be pure torture.

Once Wayne is settled, I clamber my way back over to Kellen. He’s waiting with a bottle of water and a granola bar. After disposing of the gloves and cleaning up, I accept his offering and wolf it down.

Aaron only stops once to check on everyone, give Wayne a little bit of shit for getting shot in the ass, and to fill up the tank. Then we’re back on the road, this time wary of travelers. Luckily, the only lights out here in the middle of damn nowhere are the headlights and taillights of the truck.

Boom.

I must’ve dozed off again because I wake to the distant sound of booming. Thunder? My head spins at the thought of another lightning storm.

“We’re nearing Denver,” Kellen says, voice tight. “Do you hear that?”

Not just one boom. Several booms. This can’t be good.

“Storm?”

Kellen shakes his head. “Sounds like a battlefield.”

“You think Denver is gone?”

“I don’t know.”

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