snakebyte: book 5.0 in the Byte Series (The _byte series) Read online

  I fumbled in my pocket for my phone then punched a few numbers and waited.

  Kurt answered, “Conway?”

  “Lee’s been shot.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Close. Outside Ford’s Theater on 10th.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad bad.”

  “Call paramedics. I’m on my way.”

  I hung up and made the 911 call. “SSA Conway. Shots fired. Agent down,” I said, as clearly as I could while trying to fathom why Chad didn’t hang around to help and scanning the darkness hoping the shooter was gone.

  “Location coming through from your GPS agent. Confirm, Ford’s Theater.”

  “Yes. Outside Fords Theater on 10th.”

  “An ambulance is on its way. Stay on the line with me.”

  A sigh of relief fell as the phone dropped from my hand. It clattered to the ground. I could hear the woman’s voice but not the words she said.

  Stay on the line. Sure, whatever.

  I moved, and lowered Lee to the ground. From beside him I turned his face toward me. His hands were on his stomach. Blood was everywhere.

  “Look at me,” I stated.

  His eyes were slow to respond. A horrible gurgling sucking hiss resounded with each breath he managed to draw. Bubbles of foamy blood gathered around his lips. When he tried to speak, blood sprayed all over me. I wiped the blood off my face and out of my eyes.

  “Ellie,” he croaked, pain bounced off my name and hit me full force. He struggled to hold up his head.

  He uttered one more word, “Chest.”

  I looked down and on his right side, his shirt sucked into his body.

  “My pack,” he muttered. It was on the ground beside us. I pulled it over and opened it. Pounding feet resounded from the darkness down the street.

  Not waiting to see if it was Kurt, I scrabbled through Lee’s bag looking for a plastic evidence bag and some tape. I tore his shirt open and pulled out pieces of ripped fabric that sucked into the gaping wound. Then held the bag over the hole. It sealed. He could breathe again. I tore three pieces of tape and secured the sides and top edges of the bag, leaving the bottom edge open.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah.”

  His head fell back. I caught it before it hit the ground and lowered it carefully. I pulled my jacket off and put it under his head then turned my attention to his stomach.

  Blood everywhere. I lifted Lee’s hand from his lower abdomen. There was a lot blood. I could hardly see the wound. I put his hand back.

  “Hold that there for a second,” I said. Possible exit wound.

  Where was the entrance? Had to be in his back. I leaned over and pinched his leg.

  “What?”

  “Just checking.”

  “Not paralyzed,” he groaned.

  “Moving you, Lee,” I said. With one hand on his shoulder and one on his hip, I rolled him toward me. I shoved my fingers into the hole in his shirt and ripped the blood soaked fabric all the way to his shoulders exposing two smaller wounds. One about half way up his back and one in his lower back. Blood covered the waistband of his jeans. It seemed like he was bleeding from everywhere at once. I needed more hands or something. The sound of running feet bounced off the silent buildings and vibrated in doorways.

  Please be Kurt.

  I searched the pack for something I could use. I found a tee shirt, duct tape, a knife, and another plastic evidence bag. I jammed the knife blade into the tee shirt and ripped a long piece off then, folded it into a flat pad. I tore off a couple of pieces of duct tape to hold the fabric in place. Finding it hard to make the tape stick, I used the rest of the tee shirt to clear away blood while holding the makeshift bandage in place, then stuck the tape down fast. The other wound was higher up and on the same side as the sucking chest wound. I taped the last evidence bag down on three sides just as I’d done on his chest.

  My eyes peered into the darkness as I tried to work out where the shots came from and stopped thinking about the possibility of more.

  “We need some of that magic sand stuff that we have in the car first aid kit,” I said, as I rolled him onto his back again. “This is going to hurt.” I looked in his eyes as I shoved the rest of the balled up tee shirt and my hand into the hole in his gut, and hoped I could supply enough pressure to stop the bleeding. I watched. He winced and drew a ragged breath. I smiled at him.

  “QuikClot,” Lee replied.

  “Yeah, the magic sand.”

  “Chicky …” Lee’s eyes closed.

  “Stay with me.”

  His eyes opened. “Still here.”

  “It’s gonna be okay, Lee. We’ve been in worse scrapes.”

  “You can’t lie to me.”

  A voice yelled out from about twenty feet away. “Conway!”

  “We’re here.” I waved my free arm.

  A tear rolled down my cheek.

  I rambled at Lee as he drifted out of consciousness.

  “Ever noticed that when shit happens there’s never a cop around? Thirty-two policing agencies and zero cops when you need one.” I adjusted my hand position applying more pressure to the wound. “Kurt’s almost here. Lee, stay with me.”

  Kurt slid to the ground next to me. He shone a flashlight on Lee’s face, then on his bloodied body.

  “This isn’t ideal,” Kurt muttered trying to catch his breath. “How you doing buddy?” Lee didn’t reply. Kurt transferred the flashlight to his mouth and opened his backpack. He grabbed something out of the bag, and took the flashlight out of his mouth. “Conway, get back on that phone and find out where the ambulance is.”

  “It’s over there, I can’t reach it,” I replied with a nod of my head. “The line is open.”

  Kurt handed me a thick wad of gauze. “Press this into the wound. What have you got under your hand?”

  “A tee shirt.”

  “Leave the tee shirt where it is, put this on top.”

  I did as he asked. Kurt grasped my phone, turned the speaker on then put phone on the ground and started talking. While he talked, he pulled on latex gloves then cut away what was left of Lee’s shirt and cleaned an area on his sternum.

  “This is Doctor Kurt Henderson. ETA on the ambulance for Ford’s Theater.” Kurt placed an odd shaped patch over the area he’d cleaned. I looked away for a moment. My eyes searched the darkness for potential trouble.

  “SSA Conway?”

  “With me … this is a Priority 1 incident.”

  The irony of the location hadn’t escaped my notice, Lee shot outside Fords Theater. How auspicious. When I looked at what Kurt was doing again, Lee had a line in and was getting fluid.

  “It’s three minutes out, sir. Known injuries? Exact address?”

  “GSW to the abdomen, GSW to the chest,” he replied, shining his flashlight onto the evidence bag I’d taped to Lee’s chest.

  “You should be hearing the siren any second, sir.”

  Kurt hung up.

  “Good thinking with the evidence bag, Conway,” Kurt said. “How you doing?”

  “Thanks. I’m okay. Is he going to be okay?”

  “Better than if he’d been on his own.”

  “Kurt?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “He’s breathing and his heart still has some blood left to pump, for now that’s enough.”

  “What’d you just do with the thing,” I asked, pointing the tubing entering Lee’s sternum.

  Lee was getting fluid but not through an IV cannula in his arm.

  “It’s a faster way to get access and deliver fluid. Lee’s lost a lot of blood. Veins don’t like that so much.”

  “More of your battle field magic?”

  “Something like that, Conway. It’s called FAST 1. It’s an intraosseous infusion system and the best way to get Hextend into him.”

  “And that’s what?”

  “It’s a plasma volume expander. Right now he needs volume. His heart needs enough fluid to pump. This will help.”r />
  I scanned the area again, finally able to think a little bit about what had happened. I started recreating the events in my mind. I saw Chad right after Lee fell or right before? I couldn’t remember but I knew I’d seen him. What was he doing there?

  Kurt’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Conway, where were you standing when Lee was shot?”

  “On his left. We were walking. Lee was on the street side.” I moved a bit to try to get more comfortable, careful not to apply any excessive pressure to Lee or move my aching hand. Blood oozed between my fingers looking for a way out.

  “Are you hit?”

  His question stunned me for a moment. Was I hit? I had no idea. I glanced down at my body and didn’t see anything oozing or pumping. My shirt, saturated in Lee’s blood, had stuck to my skin.

  “Nah, I think I’m okay.”

  Lee’s eyes flickered and opened.

  “Welcome back,” Kurt said.

  “Made a bit of a mess, Doc,” Lee mumbled.

  “I can see. How you doing?”

  “I’m good.”

  Kurt smiled. “Waiting on a bus, then you’re out of here.” He squeezed Lee’s shoulder. “You’re doing great.”

  Lee’s eyes found mine. “Chicky.”

  “I’m sorry Lee, this sucks.”

  A grin spread across his blood-covered face. Then slowly the same grin spread across my face. He didn’t look as much like a lead guitarist now, he’d gone completely Rambo on me. I didn’t hear the sirens approaching or the ambulance pulling up. I didn’t notice Caine appear next to Kurt at the same time as the paramedics arrived. One paramedic lifted my hand from Lee’s wound and then replaced it as he asked the other paramedic for some kind of padding or bandage or something.

  I wasn’t listening. I was watching Lee’s face. Kurt’s voice flowed from beside us as he dished out instructions. I couldn’t contain myself any longer: laughter spilled onto the scene in front of me, covering everything in rainbows and unicorns.

  “Fuck, some shit happens to us,” I said through the laughter. I had my hand inside Lee’s gut. That a whole new level of intimate. You can’t get much closer than that.

  The grin on Lee’s face became a slow chuckle. I figured that was a good sign that he could laugh or Kurt had slipped him some serious pain meds while I wasn’t looking. To be fair, it was probably meds.

  “We’re cursed, Chicky,” Lee mumbled as someone placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.

  The paramedics carried on, neither reacted. Kurt shone his flashlight in my face.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said as I reined in the craziness.

  They loaded a gurney with Lee on it into the back of the ambulance. Kurt helped me to my feet. My legs were uncooperative after spending so long frozen in one position on the sidewalk.

  “Get in,” Kurt ordered.

  “No,” I replied. I had work to do, a shooter to find, Lee’s parents to call and then interview the fuc’n raven. I don’t like birds. I felt tears prickle the back of my eyes. The thought of tears and snot running down my face were all too much. It was obvious to me that I had finally lost my mind. Lee’s shooting was the last straw.

  I pulled the crazy back until it perched on a knife-edge with just the occasional snigger threatening to topple the lot. What felt like forever probably wasn’t. Caine was still next to me.

  He wasn’t amused, that was okay, I was amused enough for all of us.

  “You’re bleeding. Get in,” Caine said.

  “Am not. It’s Lee’s blood,” I replied with as much control as I could. “There is nothing running out of me.”

  There was blood all over the place. I was pretty sure none of it was mine. My clothes were soaked, my hands sticky. The smell of blood turned my gut. Up until then I hadn’t noticed the smell, guess I was too busy not letting Lee die. The metallic cloying tang reminded me of crime scenes.

  It was a crime scene. Lee was the victim. This was not random. Two of us on the street; only one wounded. I ran a hand over my face, pushing my hair back. Hair stuck to my hand and pulled as I tried to free it.

  Thoughts of showering and shampoo came to mind. I needed a shower. I needed to wash the sticky out of my hair. Blood. Shower. I couldn’t remember where my phone was.

  “Phone?” I asked Caine.

  My eyes blurred as I tried to focus on him.

  “Ellie, are you bleeding?” Caine dropped his voice a tone or two bringing my mind swiftly back to reality. “Get in.”

  I looked at him. What a dumbass.

  “It’s not my blood but I’m going with Lee.”

  I grabbed the handrail and swung myself into the ambulance. Lee lay motionless, his eyes closed. There was a sensor on his finger, glowing red, his vital signs displayed on a screen.

  Kurt indicated that I should sit on the only seat. A seat that faced into the ambulance from the behind the driver. He was sitting on the spare gurney, watching Lee.

  “Thought you’d want to go clean up,” he commented. “None of that blood is yours, right?”

  “It’s not mine. I just want to make sure he’s okay then I’ll clean up.”

  I looked at the phone in my sticky hand and started scrolling through contacts until I found Lee’s parents phone number.

  A siren wailed, lights flashed.

  Someone answered the phone.

  I took a breath and said, “Mr. Davenport, I’m Supervisory Special Agent Ellie Conway.”

  He interrupted before I could tell him why I called. “Is Lee all right?”

  Nope. Not at all.

  “He was wounded this evening. We’re on our way to hospital.” I swallowed hard, trying to force the evening’s events down.

  Kurt reached out and took the phone.

  “SSA Kurt Henderson, sir. I’m a doctor. I’m with your son. He has an open pneumothorax and abdominal wound. He’s in critical condition, sir.”

  I stopped listening and watched Lee breathing.

  Kurt passed my phone back.

  “They’re coming out from California.”

  He turned back to concentrating on Lee and monitoring his vital signs.

  “How bad is this?”

  “As bad as I told his father, critical. I won’t know until we get into theater how bad it really is.”

  Because two gaping holes aren’t enough.

  I had another phone call to make. I found Tara’s number and called.

  “Hey, it’s Ellie. Lee’s been shot, you should come. We’re heading for George Washington hospital now.”

  “Shot?”

  “He’s critical, Tara. Chest and abdominal wounds.”

  “Tell him I’m coming.”

  I hung up and leaned as close as I could to Lee. “Tara is meeting us at the hospital. You might wanna clean up a little.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

  Twenty minutes later Lee was heading to surgery, Tara holding his hand all the way. Kurt found me a set of hospital scrubs and pointed me to a shower I could use.

  “I’m scrubbing up, they’re going to need all the hands they can get,” Kurt said, handing me a towel.

  “I’ll clean up and wait for Sam.”

  “This could take most of the night. I’ll call you when I can.”

  “Okay.”

  “You did good out there. He’s strong, healthy, and still alive because of you.”

  I tried to smile as he pushed me into the bathroom. “Call me.”

  “I will.” Kurt closed the door. I slid the lock into place and turned on the shower. Visions of humpty dumpty and all the king’s men swirled down the drain with the bloodied water.

  Clean and changed, I bagged my blood-stained jeans and shirt and threw them in the garbage. My jacket was leather I didn’t want to throw it away. After a quick inspection, I determined there were no holes. A wet cloth removed the blood from my jacket, boots, belt, and splatters on my holster. I carried my belt, holster, and jacket. The
y really didn’t work with hospital scrubs and dripping wet hair.

  I dropped my stuff onto a chair outside the surgical suite, and leaned on the wall while waiting for Sam and Caine to arrive. There were four chairs. Tara sat in one. I didn’t want to sit. The safest thing seemed to be alternating between leaning and pacing. No sitting; nothing that would encourage my eyes to close and the evening to flood back.

  Tara spoke. I jumped.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Any idea who did this?”

  Yeah, I had an idea but I couldn’t get my head around it.

  “Not yet. As soon as Sam gets here, I’m out. I need to find the shooter.”

  Tara grabbed my arm. “Thank you, for being with him. Kurt said he’d be dead if you hadn’t been there.”

  I felt tears well up. My inner voice cautioned, ‘Don’t cry. He’s still alive. He’s got a chance.’

  “He’s saved my ass many times. It’s how we roll.” I sucked back the tears and smiled. “You’re staying?”

  “Yes. I’ll be here until he wakes up.”

  “Good to know. His parents will be here in the morning. I suppose his brother will come out too.” I saw Sam walking toward me. “Take care. I gotta go.” I pulled on my jacket, picked up my belt and gun and hurried to meet Sam.

  “I need to go see a man about a spook,” I said, extending my free hand.

  He nodded. His hand grabbed mine and slid until our fingertips caught. “Alert and safe, Chicky Babe.”

  “Always.”

  “Catch,” Sam said, throwing his car keys to me.

  I snatched the keys from the air, ran down the corridor to the stairs, and kept running until I hit the cold night air.

  Chapter Nine

  Starting all over again.

  In the car, I made a phone call. I put my phone in the cradle on the dash and engaged the hands-free Bluetooth system. It seemed like a long wait to hear the voice I knew would answer.

  Seven rings.

  “Agent Conway.”

  “Jonathon, I need to speak with Chad.”

  “That’s not possible,” Jonathon Tierney replied.

  “I saw him this evening. I know he’s in DC. This is important.”

  “Regarding?”

  In my mind, I could see his thin fingers tapping at a computer keyboard.