Page 72 of Jameson

I stumbled and threw up my hands.

Jameson jumped in front of me.

The dog took him down, clawing at his chest. Before I could get my blaster up, Hunter Squad opened fire.

Oh, God. Jameson.

The dog’s body jolted, and it slumped. Jameson pushed it off him.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Blood. There was so much blood.

“Jameson, no.” I dropped down beside him. His chest was grooved with deep scratches and his ripped T-shirt was soaked with blood.

North knelt beside him, swinging a small backpack off his shoulders. He pulled out a small kit and tore it open.

Jameson’s face was lined with pain. I stared blindly at all the blood, my heart beating fast and hard in my chest.

“I’m all right,” he gritted out.

“You’re clearly not.” My voice was shrill.

“Someone give us some more light,” North ordered.

Someone shifted and the beam of light illuminated just how bad the wounds were. I swallowed a cry.

“Here.” North shoved some gauze at me. “Stop the worst of the bleeding. I’ll give him an injection to slow the blood loss and increase healing.”

I nodded, pressing down on the worst of Jameson’s wounds. He grunted.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He reached up and cupped my cheek. “I’m tough. I promise.”

North administered a pressure injection to the side of his neck.

I glanced at the dead dog. It was bigger than any old house pet. It was a weird, mutated thing—and possibly had some dingo in it—covered in orange fur mixed with shiny scales. It had a misshapen back, and its limbs didn’t seem proportional.

More howls filled the night air.

“We’ve got to move,” Kai said.

“I can run,” Jameson said.

North cut Jameson’s ruined shirt off, then pressed some suction bandages over the deep scratches. The others helped him to his feet.

He stood there, wavering a little, but I saw that fierce determination of his. “Let’s move.”

We started running again. I stayed close to his side. He wasn’t moving with his usual athletic stride. His jaw was tight and he was gritting his teeth. I knew that he was in pain.

I pumped my arms and focused on running. The quicker we got out of here, the quicker he’d get proper medical treatment.

But the dogs were gaining on us. Their excited yips echoed through the forest.

“Incoming,” Marc yelled.

“Form up,” Jameson ordered, as he spun around.

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