Page 82 of Trigger Discipline

“ABCs, Tofu,” Blake snapped, and Tommy got to work helping him isolate the bleeding. When in doubt, when shit was hitting the fan, there were only three things that mattered: airway, bleeding, and circulation.

Judd was breathing, albeit shallowly. No doubt that thing had broken at least a few ribs, if not done more damage. Circulation was good; the proof of that was the blood pouring all over them. Now they just needed to control the bleeding.

If they could find it. Or more specifically, find where it wasn’t. Judd’s entire back was one big wound. The lacerations were so deep Blake could see bone. If the alien had knicked his spine, Judd might be a lot worse off than they thought.

Victoria helped them rip what was left of his plate carrier and shirt off. They used the scraps to begin soaking up blood. Blake didn’t see any spurting, so he was hoping that meant no major arteries had been severed.

“Judd! Judd!” Victoria was shouting at him, trying to be heard over the fighting. He groaned, eyelids flickering.

“Leave him,” Blake said as he ripped a strip of shirt with his teeth. They didn’t have the pain meds Judd would need to keep him comfortable—being unconscious was the kindest thing they could do for him. “Just make sure he’s breathing.”

Luckily, the soldier had been smart enough to protect his front. It might be the thing that saved his life, provided he didn’t bleed out or die of a raging infection afterward.

Victoria and Tommy lifted Judd just enough so Blake could get the bandage under him, wrapping it tight around his back. He didn’t hear any sucking, so he was reasonably sure his lungs hadn’t been compromised. At least not to where he’d need anything more than a pressure dressing.

Judd’s blood was warm and slick. Blake’s hands were sticky with it up to his elbows as he desperately tried to push ragged bits of skin together, using his hands and fingers to probe the wounds to see if there were any lacerated arteries he’d need to clamp.

“Head’s up!” Phin shouted just before the fuselage rocked again. Blake could immediately smell burning plastic. He looked up to see one of the Handler’s rounds eating through the back of the fuselage.

“We can’t stay here!” Gabriel shouted, backing up so he was standing over Blake, scanning the open areas with his gun.

“The marina is just on the other side of the wall,” Blake said as he tied off another bandage. The blood seemed to be slowing down—it was the best he could do for now. Judd was still breathing, but his face was pale and waxy.

“Too bad I left my fucking pole-vaulting kit in my other pants,” Phin snarled, at no one in particular. He’d dropped his rifle and was loading his handgun. It looked comically small in his hands.

He was right. There was no way to get through the wall. Blake used his shoulder to push some of his sweaty hair out of his face. The fighting had moved to their left, closer to the disintegrating end of the plane.

Then he saw it. The downed Handler! It was missing a head, but its two shoulder-mounted guns were still intact and pointing directly at the wall.

“There!” he shouted, pointing with his bloody hand. “If we can rig up the gun, we can blast a hole in the wall.”

Gabriel turned, his hazel eyes narrowing as he judged the distance. It was a good sixty yards or so, and while the fighting had moved off, it was still out in the open.

“I’ll do it.” Tommy stood up, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. “I ran track in high school.”

Gabriel’s face was grim, but it was Phin who reacted. He shouldered past Gabriel. “The fuck you will.”

“I’m the only one who can,” Tommy responded, completely unaffected by Phin’s outburst. “Everyone else is either hurt or needed here. Blake needs to stay with Judd, and Gabriel will need to help carry Judd out of here.” Tommy reached for Phin’s wrist, squeezing it with a small smile. “I can do this. I know I can.”

“You don’t even know how to fire that thing!”

“Neither does anyone else,” Tommy said, his voice surprisingly even. “I’ll figure it out.”

The plane rocked again, the metal burning hot where another round had hit it. They were rapidly losing what cover they had. It was a bad plan, and Blake regretted coming up with it.

Below him, Judd wheezed. Victoria cupped his cheeks, wiping some blood from around his nose and mouth.

“We need to get him out of here.” Blake hated himself for saying it.

Gabriel looked between Judd, Blake, and then Tommy. He swallowed before nodding tersely. “Okay. But be quick. If you can’t figure out a way to fire, get out of there. You hear me?”

Tommy let go of Phin, but before he could turn around, the big soldier grabbed him. Tugging him close, he wrenched the helmet off his own head and plopped it onto Tommy’s. It was far too big, slipping over to land on the bridge of his nose. Grumbling and cursing, Phin tightened the chin straps until it stopped sliding too much.

“Keep your head down, kid,” he said gruffly, big hand knocking onto the top of his helmet. “And run fast.”

Tommy grinned weakly, lifting a fist. “Team Oh Shit, right?”

And then he was off.