Like every time I was around the Millers, I was wearing my usual IIA-Vest, but he hit me right in the shoulder strap. Those straps might not have contained any gel to stop bullets, but had multiple layers of kevlar that would surely be able to stop a damn roundball. So, why did that hurt so fucking much!?
I heard Mia scream as pandemonium broke out in the room behind us. I reached forward with my left and grabbed Campbell’s outstretched arm as he stepped back into the hallway, pushing the gun downwards and to the left away from us. It took long enough for him to pull the trigger three more times before I finally wasn’t in its crosshair anymore. The first two hit me in the front of my vest, and I STILL felt the impact! The third one, however, hit me in my left thigh, since I was stupid enough to make my first step to follow him into the hallway with my left leg. This last impact felt like he hit my leg with a baseball bat! Suddenly, I couldn’t put any weight on it anymore and somehow ended up going down on my knees while still holding his gun-arm with my left.
I have to hand it to Mia’s big brother, though. The guy did not hesitate for even a millisecond when it came to protecting his sister! The moment he heard her scream, he wrapped one arm around Mía’s waist to pull her further into the room, while simultaneously grabbing the door with his other hand in one fluent motion. By the time I had redirected Campbell’s gun to point at the floor and was down on my knees, I heard the door behind me slam shut and the automatic locks engage.
The shock of this guy suddenly showing up, paired with the more than concerning pain that quiet little gun had caused, made me want to end this as quickly as possible and throw caution out the window.
Hearing the door slam shut caused Campbell to raise his head and look at the newly appeared barrier between him and his target. Being on my knees when he looked up allowed me to drive my right fist directly into his throat with everything I had, though I screamed when it connected with his adam’s apple. I didn’t scream with anger, but because the pain in my shoulder grew to previously unknown heights when I put my weight behind the already connected punch. His eyes flew wide open as he let go of the gun to grab his gagging throat with both hands.
I didn’t register at all that, at that point, he was basically already incapacitated, so I followed up immediately with a strong left hook to his ribs. I heard a faint crack and he opened his mouth in an almost silent gargled scream, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, before he fell to the ground. I followed right behind him to make sure he stayed there.
Sitting on Campbell’s back, I took stock of the situation, and realized how many mistakes I made. The gun was on the ground, which meant that I had unconsciously let it drop to punch the guy in the chest. The wheezing sounds that emanated from underneath me made me worry about the consequences of what I did to him. And finally, I didn’t have anything to restrain him with, other than my own hands, so now I was stuck in this position.
The whole crap-situation could have been fully avoided if I had simply closed that damn door instead of debating with Mia first. I was the one who configured the router to give us a warning and a headstart, and then I didn’t act on it. Because I spent the entire evening suspecting Mia’s friends of plotting something, even washed out the damn beer bottle that I considered potentially spiked, but that had me so occupied that I completely forgot about the real reasons for my presence there! All the while, I was wondering why the fuck the pain in my shoulder and leg wouldn’t let up! Quite the opposite, actually, it seemed to get worse the longer I knelt on him while holding him in place.
After a few more seconds that felt like an eternity, Michael came running towards us while heatedly talking into the radio he carried, and thankfully relieved me of any decision making responsibilities.
He stopped barely long enough to take in the situation, before turning towards the door and using the intercom to make sure nobody in there was injured. My attention on Campbell, I could only hear his conversation that concluded with him telling Jack to keep the door closed until he got the all-clear, but couldn’t see his expression. I also noticed how he simply ignored the pleading inquiries about my status that came through the intercom.
I did not notice him kneeling behind me to wrap something around my thigh, until I felt a sudden but massive pain when he roughly tightened it. He then beckoned me off Campbell, cuffed his hands behind his back, and proceeded to order me to lay down on my back. I had to suppress another scream when Michael then pressed both of his hands onto my shoulder. It was at that moment I realized that the damage this weird little gun had caused was probably worse than I initially thought, and the persistent pain made sense.
“Why didn’t you answer your damn phone!?” I asked him through gritted teeth.
“Fucker tricked me. Saw him on the monitor at the front gate, called it in and then wanted to catch him. By the time I got there, he had already slipped into the garden. One of those damn kids left the patio door unlocked. When I got to the stairs to the basement, I heard the screams. I’m sorry man!”
At least I knew why he showed up just seconds after Campbell did. I stayed on my back, eyes pressed shut against the pain Michael’s hands caused while I continuously cursed him for it, when I unexpectedly heard a clinical female voice.
“What have we here?”
I opened my eyes and, to my greatest relief, saw four paramedics drop their bags to the ground. One of them, the woman who had talked, was kneeling next to Campbell.
“Punched his throat and probably broke a rib.” I managed to inform her, which she acknowledged with a simple grunt herself.
“He’ll be fine! This one’s in worse shape.” Michael told them in a demanding tone, which did not help me calm down in the slightest.
The paramedic made a gesture for Michael to take his hands off my shoulder and make room for them, but then pressed a gauze pad onto it instead after she had cut open my shirt. Her partner repeated the procedure with my pants, and suddenly everything happened quite fast.
They loaded Campbell and me onto stretchers to carry us out of the house, loaded us into the waiting ambulances, and off we went to my first ambulance ride I was awake for. My concern grew significantly when I heard them making calls through their own radios that spoke about GSWs, while attaching various things to my body and strapping an oxygen mask to my face.
It didn’t help that Micheal stayed back at the house to wait for Bill and assist the police. As much as I tried to act tough, at that moment I wouldn’t have minded to have someone I knew by my side. Though, the female paramedic seemed to notice and graciously held my hand during the ride, which I admit was nice. Maybe she was just taking my pulse, but I enjoyed it anyway.
After arriving in the ER, I was rolled into the Trauma Bay and given the once-over by a doctor and multiple nurses.
“Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked loudly as he leaned over me and looked into my eyes like he was searching for something.
“Timothy Brown.”
“Very good, Timothy. You seem to have been shot.” he said, as they unburdened me of my remaining clothes.
“Thought it was a BB-Gun.” I groaned back.
“BB-Gun?”
“Was too quiet. No bang.” The pain of their rough treatment made it hard to talk.
“Probably a small caliber then.” he mused, more to the nurses than me. “There is no exit wound on the leg or shoulder, meaning we’re gonna have to go lookin’ for those bullets. Shoulder looks like it was hit by shrapnel, though. The bullet possibly shattered when it passed through the vest.”