The Falling Away Read Online Free Page B

shoulder. Can you move your arm?”
    â€œNo. I mean . . . it hurts.”
    â€œ ’Course it hurts. You just got shot.”
    He really needed to get them out of there, put as many miles as he could between the two dead Canucks and themselves. But he also needed to see Webb’s injury. Dylan pulled the truck to the side of the road, unbuckled, walked to the passenger side, and opened Webb’s door. “Pull your good arm out of your coat,” he said.
    Webb did as he was told, wincing in pain as Dylan helped him.
    â€œOkay,” Dylan said. “I’m gonna pull your right arm out of the jacket now. It’s gonna hurt like a mother, but we’re gonna see if it’s just a meat wound or something worse.”
    â€œSomething worse?”
    â€œLike a broken bone.”
    â€œHow will you know?”
    â€œIf you scream, it’s a meat wound. If you scream and pass out from the pain, it’s worse.”
    Webb took a few deep breaths, exhaled forcefully, skipped the effort to come up with a good comeback. “Okay,” he said.
    Dylan pulled on the sleeve, working it away from Webb’s arm as he went down. Webb’s screams filled the cab.
    Dylan pushed Webb’s shirt out of the way and examined the wound. Blood oozed from the small hole. Oozing was good; it meant the bullet hadn’t hit any major blood vessels. Dylan knew what that looked like.
    â€œI think it’s broken,” Webb said.
    â€œDid you pass out?”
    â€œNo,” Webb admitted.
    â€œThen it’s not broken. You still got those Perks in your pocket?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Dylan dug into the left pocket of Webb’s coat, retrieved the bottle. “Lucky for you, we got plenty of Percocets.” He thought briefly of popping one himself, but resisted; he needed to stay clear right now.
    Dylan glanced at the packs he’d thrown into the back of the pickup. One of them contained several thousand tabs of Vicodin and Percocet painkillers. The other contained several thousand dollars in U.S. currency. On an ordinary day, a load he’d be happy to carry. But this wasn’t an ordinary day anymore.
    Webb took the pills and dry-swallowed them. “Yeah,” he said. “Lucky me.”
    Dylan hobbled back to the driver’s side, slid in, and wheeled back onto the road again.
    â€œWhat now?” Webb asked.
    â€œNow you just keep that coat pressed against the wound, keep the blood from flowing. Looks like you’re starting to clot, which is good.”
    Webb draped the coat over his shoulder and hunched forward in the seat, putting his head against the truck’s dash. He closed his eyes and spoke, almost as if he were about to start praying.
    Like Claussen , Joni’s voice said inside.
    Yeah , he answered. Webb’s the real praying kind. Let’s not start comparing him to dead guys just yet .
    Gotcha .
    Webb spoke softly. “Where we going?”
    â€œHarlem. We gotta get that arm looked at.”
    â€œThere’s a hospital in Harlem, Montana?”
    â€œIndian Health Services.”
    â€œBut I’m not an Indian.”
    â€œWhich is why we aren’t going there.”
    â€œAnd don’t they have to report gunshot wounds?”
    â€œAnother reason we’re not going there.”
    Webb rolled his head on the dash so he could look at Dylan. “Which brings me back to my original question: where we going?”
    â€œIt’s the rez,” Dylan said. “I’ll find someone.”
    â€œSomeone? Like a medicine man or something?” Webb’s words were starting to slur now, soft and mushy. Maybe it was a weak attempt at a joke, but more likely it was the Perks kicking in, mixing with the adrenaline and shock.
    â€œYeah,” Dylan said. “A medicine man. He’ll smudge some ash on your forehead and you’ll be just fine.”
    Webb went quiet and Dylan drove, listening to the rumble of the engine as the