Chapter Eleven
As soon as I am freed from the seatbelt, Gunner’s huge form hovers over me, covering every part of my body as gunfire reigns down on us. Screwing my eyes shut, I wait for our impending fate and for this to be over. Cold terror races through my body. When I ran out of the clubhouse, I had no fear, because the only concern I had was to get to Ripper. Nothing else mattered. But now…now is different. There is no greater fear than lying here defenseless, unable to protect ourselves as we are hunted. One bullet—that’s all that it will take to end our lives, to make us take that final breath, sending our souls into the unknown.
That scares the shit out of me.
“Fuck!” Gunner yells out; I assume it’s because the shots are getting closer.
It could have been minutes later or seconds, I don’t really know, but the gunfire finally comes to an end. I lie underneath Gunner, waiting for him to get up, but he doesn’t.
“Gunner.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Gunner, it’s over. We need to get up.” No sound or movement comes from his still form.
“Gunner!” My heart races as I pull a hand out from underneath him and push against his still body. Patting his back, I lift my hand, now covered in his blood, and my body begins to shake. “Oh, God, no!” I scream inside the car, sobs racking through me. “Gunner, baby, please—you have to wake up,” I tell him as I try pushing him up far enough for me to get out. It’s no use; he’s too heavy. I check for a pulse; it’s there but it is slow and light.
Feeling around me, I find the phone I used to call Hanger. Dialing 9-1-1, I tell the operator where we are and what has happened. She keeps me on the line.
“Chatty? Gunner?” I hear our names being yelled outside of the car. Hanger opens the driver’s side door, and his expression turns to one of horror.
“An ambulance is on its way. I’m on the phone with the operator.” Responding to Hanger, I try to stay calm. “Don’t move him; he has a pulse, but barely.” I mouth guns to Hanger; he searches the vehicle until he finds them, and takes them to his truck.
Finally, in the distance I hear the sirens coming. Everything happens quickly after that: Gunner is removed from the car and put on a stretcher. I open the passenger side door and get out, and Tinsley runs over, hugging me tightly. Hugging her back, I watch as they rush him into the ambulance and start working on him immediately, checking his vitals and inserting an IV for fluids. “We have to get him to the hospital now; is anyone riding with him?” asks one of the EMTs, aiming the question in our direction.
“Go, Chatty! We’ll meet you there,” Hanger says as he runs to his truck. Letting go of Tinsley, I rush to get in the ambulance. They slam the doors shut and race to the hospital. I sit, quietly looking down at an unconscious Gunner. What if he doesn’t survive this? My heart sinks at the possibility.
It’s an overwhelming feeling when the doors of the ambulance open; doctors and nurses stand there, waiting. The stretcher is pulled from the ambulance, everyone is rushing to help Gunner, the EMTs are rambling words that don’t make sense to me, and the doctors are asking questions while I try to answer as many as I can. “Get him into O.R. two!” announces one of the doctors.
“You can’t go any further, ma’am,” a kind-looking nurse tells me. Stopping in my tracks, she stays behind with me. “Follow me to the waiting room. Your...”
“Boyfriend.”
She nods with a kind smile. “Your boyfriend is being taken to surgery—he has some internal bleeding.”
“Internal bleeding. Oh, God!” Covering my mouth with my hand, I ask quietly, “Is he going to be okay?” Tears flood my face.
“I can’t answer that right now, but I can assure you that he is in good hands. If you need anything, I am here until six tonight—my name is Sarah.” Nodding, I follow her to the waiting room.
Soon, it fills up with all of the Satan’s Sinners members and prospects, all of the girls, and Gunner’s mom. All of us take turns pacing the waiting room floor, sitting down, and asking for any update they could give us.
It’s been hours since we arrived, and I wouldn’t leave to go with a doctor; instead, Sierra checked me out right here. I wasn’t about to leave and miss finding out something on how Gunner is doing. But we have yet to hear anything, and most of us are getting anxious.
The cops have come in and questioned me; apparently with gunshot wounds, the hospital is required by law to report it to them. I told them basically what happened, without saying we fired back, because that would land Gunner back in prison—if he makes it through surgery. I told them I had no idea who would have done this, but I am pretty sure Hanger knows. You can see it in his hazel eyes. They were satisfied with my answers for now, and left to go check out the car.
Sierra is leaning against the wall, in a heated discussion with Hacker. Her body language is tense; she obstinately pokes him in the chest, her face bright red with anger. “How dare you!” She slaps him across the face hard enough his head turns.
A smile plays on his lips, and then he straightens, grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her against the wall.
“Sierra?” I call out, getting their attention, and Hacker lets her go. She quickly walks over to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Her head hangs down. “I can’t believe I just did that. I’m so embarrassed, and this is definitely not the right place. I’m sorry.” Her glassy eyes meet mine.
“Don’t apologize. I’m sure he deserved it. Is there any way you could see if you can find out anything on Gunner?”
“Let me check.”
Sierra came back with no luck, but within the next hour, the door opens and in walks a doctor I didn’t see before. “Family of Mr. Williams?”
“Yes. I’m his mother.” Josie stands from the chair she was sitting in and walks to the doctor. “Wait.” She turns, waving me over.
Standing there, dread fills me as I wait for him to speak. Josie and I cling to each other like we are each other’s life preserver. “Hello, I am Dr. Guthrie.” He shakes our hands before adding, “The surgery went well, and he is in recovery.”
“Oh, thank God!” I say as Josie sags against me; we both burst into tears.
The doctor continues, “We have managed to stop the internal bleeding and got the bullets out. He was shot three times, and while none hit vital organs, one did hit his spine in the thoracolumbar region.”
“What exactly does that mean? Is he going to be paralyzed?” I question, wanting to know exactly what kind of recovery Gunner is looking at.
“We won’t know for sure until he wakes up, and then we can see if he has any feeling in his legs. I want you to understand that if he doesn’t, it is going to be a long process to recovery, if he fully recovers. He will have to stay in the hospital for a few weeks for rehabilitation, and continue it after he goes home. I want you to be prepared—people who suffer from this kind of injury…only a fourth are able to ambulate after a year. But please keep in mind that he is lucky to be alive.”
“Thank you!” Josie says, then asks, “When can we see him?”
“He will be in ICU, so only two visitors at a time, but you can start going up as soon as he is out of recovery. I’ll have the nurse come in and show you to his room.” Josie and I decide to wait until last to see Gunner, since neither of us will be leaving his side.
I don’t know what to expect walking into his room, but I was nervous. As Josie opens the door, she takes my hand in hers. We walk into the dimly lit room and over to his bed. It’s nothing like I pictured in my head; Gunner looks like he’s sleeping peacefully, and the only machine he’s hooked to is the one that checks his vitals. He still has the IV with fluids, and he has a catheter bag hanging on the lower part of his bed.
We both grab a chair; I sit on one side while Josie sits on the opposite side. We both take one of his hands and wait for him to wake up.