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Chapter 7

“Sorry, boss,” Luis gasped, his face pale. Almost a match to the white knuckles pressing a T-shirt against his leg. Red splotches dotted the dingy cotton and spilled into the dust.

John dropped to his knees and grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the first aid kit. An eerie sense of calm settled over him, blocking out the excited voices of the crew. This close he could smell the sour sweat of fear that poured off of Luis and he gently covered Luis’s hand with his own. “Let me have a look.”

Moments like this, when everything stopped, and his brain shifted into another plane. Moments where his hands moved without conscious input. This was when John questioned his decisions all those years ago.