Providence

Jared’s voice cal ed to me from far away, and as his voice grew closer, so did the buzzing and tapping noises.

“Nina!” Jared yel ed.

Sitting on the ground with my back to the inside of the waiter’s station, time sped up and the noises blurred together. Jared reached above me, and I heard a ripping noise. With one hand he placed a large board behind my back, leaning me against it. He ducked once and cal ed my name again.

“Nina!”

My mind abruptly caught up with the present. Jared had reached across the table the second he’d noticed the red dot, and we flew together under a slew of gunfire to the middle of the room. He quickly righted me and ripped the marble countertop off above us, placing it behind me as a shield.

A hail of bul ets soared around us again, and I could hear the waitress screaming from the back in Japanese. Jared yel ed something back to her and then turned to me.

The red table cloth had made the journey with us, and I was tangled in it. I covered my head as the next barrage of bul ets surged through the restaurant. When I looked up, I noticed a red stain on Jared’s shirt that grew larger with every passing second.

“Jared!”

He looked at me with confusion and then fol owed my line of sight to his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “Are you okay?” he yel ed over the breaking glass and gunfire, ducking as he spoke.

I nodded, watching Jared’s confused expression turn to concern. He looked down at his thigh and touched his pants.

“Did you get hit in the leg, too?” I asked, ducking with another onslaught of gunfire.

“No…I….” he said, looking back at me. Suddenly his eyes widened and he looked down to my lap, pul ing at the tablecloth twisted around me.

Final y freeing me from the fabric, he yanked up the skirt of my dress, seeing a bloody mess on my thigh.

“Oh my God, Nina, you’re hit.”

We exchanged fearful expressions just as the next barrage of bul ets ricocheted through the room. My brain registered the pain the moment I saw the wound, and a searing sensation immediately radiated from the bul et hole in al directions.

“You’re going to be okay!” Jared yel ed over the breaking glass, his face tightening.

The restaurant was being torn apart by bul ets. The wal s and tables were splintered, the floor covered in glass shards. He pul ed the tie from his neck and looped it around my upper thigh, yanking it tight, and then he wadded up the table cloth and pressed it against my leg. The sting intensified as it shot throughout my body, and I cried out in pain.

Jared’s face tensed and he lifted his hand from the table cloth, both dark red with my blood. He put more pressure on it and I cried out again.

He shook his head. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

He kept his hand on my leg as he backed up to the station beside me, and then slowly leaned his head out. He immediately jerked back, narrowly dodging dozens of shots aimed directly at him. Whoever was outside only had to keep us pinned down until I bled to death, and they would succeed in kil ing us both.

Jared’s eyes searched the room in desperation. He scanned the ceiling and wal s, and attempted to see what was in the back, ducking at another set of bul ets. When more firing resounded, I noticed that those shots sounded different, closer.

I pul ed his hand from my leg and pressed my hand on the tablecloth, wincing. “Go, Jared. Find a way out.”

“I won’t leave you,” he said, desperate.

I took in a deep breath, trying to focus beyond the pain. “If you don’t, we’re both going to die.”

Jared clinched his eyes shut and pressed his lips together, the clash of priorities sending him into anguish. He turned to me, his eyes midnight blue.

“I’m going to go straight down the hal to see if there’s another way out, and then I’m coming back, okay? I’m going to get us out of here,” he promised.

I smiled and nodded, my eyes glossing over. “I know.”

He grabbed each side of my face and kissed me on the lips first, and then on the forehead.

More bul ets cascaded through the building, and the different pitch of gunfire was just behind us. Jared pul ed me close and I flinched at our impending end.

Jared laughed and I looked up, seeing Claire ten feet away, her back against a concrete pil ar.

“Thought I’d come join the party!” Claire cal ed to us, throwing a gun to Jared and then situating herself with her rifle.

“I love you, baby sister!” Jared cried.

Claire winked at him. “I told you that you’d figure that out one of these days!” She cocked her gun and then looked up, took a deep breath, and then twisted her body, taking several shots before turning back around to escape the return fire.

She turned to Jared, then. “You’ve got four in the upper floors of the North building, two behind the dumpster, four each on both roofs, and three on the ground, on your ten, twelve and two. I’l stay here with Nina. You go clean house.”

Jared smiled and turned to me. “Hang on, honey. I’l be back in a sec.”

“Have a good day at work,” I smiled.

Claire tossed him a few more clips of ammunition, and then he leaned into me, his lips pressing hard against mine. “Promise me you’l stay awake.”

“I promise,” I whispered, and then he disappeared.

Claire was beside me in the next moment, and she immediately pressed down on the table cloth.

“Agh!” I screamed.

“You’ve got to keep pressure on that, dummy, or you’re going to bleed out before we get you to the hospital,” she barked, taking a few shots behind us with her rifle.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Bitch,” I said, laughing when Claire did.

“Open your eyes, Nina! You have to stay awake!” she yel ed, patting my cheek.

I widened my eyes and blinked a few times. “I feel nauseous,” I said, swal owing.

She looked down at my hand on my thigh, both covered in scarlet. “It’s because you’re losing so much blood. I’ve got to cover Jared, but you stay awake!”

Claire pul ed a hand gun from the holster on her back and shot several rounds, simultaneously whipping a rifle over her head and stabilized it on top of the remaining wood of our make-shift fort. Staring down her sights, her tiny frame jerked back with each shot as large brass casings flipped out and over, landing al around me.

“Your SIX, Jared!” Claire screamed as she took more shots with her rifle with one hand, and intermittently straightened her head to use her hand gun with the other.

The bul ets no longer showered the restaurant as they seemed to be mostly out in the street. Claire repacked her guns on her person and grabbed the back of my dress, pul ing me across the floor. She side-stepped down the hal to the kitchen in a crouched position, and I swal owed back the nausea as I noticed the thick trail of blood along the white tile behind us.

She propped me against a cabinet and appraised my condition. “Yikes, you’re real y pale,” she said, leaning back quickly to look down the hal and then righting herself to reload her firearm.

“I feel pale, thanks,” I mumbled, my eyes feeling heavy.

“Hurry up, Jared,” she muttered, wiping my bangs from my eyes. I noticed, then, that I was sweating, my wet hair matting against my brow.

The gunshots were quieting down outside, with only sporadic shots fired every minute or so. I began to shiver and Claire frowned, concerned with my diminishing state.