Invasion: An Urban Fantasy by Willa Blackmore

Author:Willa Blackmore [Blackmore, Willa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-04-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

John was conscious. Maybe bleeding out, certainly at least clawed to pieces, but fully awake for it. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Of course, I wasn’t a doctor, didn’t even have an ounce of medical training, so was hoping it looked worse than it really was.

To be honest, I was amazed that the cougar hadn’t just killed him. If it had gotten him in the throat instead of the shoulder, that would have been the end of special agent John Wheaton. He’d been incredibly lucky.

“How bad is it?” He asked me, his voice thin with pain, gasping almost.

“Bad enough,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I can stop the bleeding, but you’re going to need a doctor. Sooner rather than later. Do you think you can make it back to the car?”

“I’m not leaving these woods.” He was thrashing around, trying to raise himself up on elbows that were bleeding and raw. The cat had done a real number on both his shoulder and arms. Finally he gave up and fell back onto the muddy creek bank, and whispered, “Remember why we’re here. We don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, a mountain lion attack wasn’t something we planned for. I can get you to the hospital and come back by myself.”

“Hell, no. Dammit Tula. Isn’t there something you can do? Rub some frog spit on me or something? Go on. Do your thing. Whatever it is.”

If the circumstance had been different, I’d have gotten a good bit of satisfaction out of hearing him, for the very first time, referencing magic as if it was something more than just a complete load of bullshit. But at the moment, all I could feel or see was a desperate man. Desperate but determined. He wasn’t going to give up. At least not yet.

And the frog spit actually wasn’t such a bad idea.

The moon was high and nearly full, lighting the sky and the forest below with a fierce kind of white. Like it was damning the darkness but not all the way. I was glad of the moonlight. In the struggle with the cougar I’d lost my night vision goggles, and so had John.

“Lay still and let me look at you,” I told him.

As I was examining his wounds, which were many, it occurred to me that I hadn’t brought along anything in the way of first aid, not even a band-aid. I wasn’t the nature-girl type, but even a townie like me should have known better. John, being the ready for everything FBI man that he was, would have certainly brought a first aid kit. I’d have bet money on it. But his pack was even now floating its way to town, and the Hale River, pulled along by Dead Buck Creek and its not insignificant currents.

I didn’t dwell on it. I wished I’d thought of it. But wishing wouldn’t make it so. Wishing wouldn’t make a satchel full medical type shit appear on the creek bank.

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