Chapter 9: One More Question
Nash came to when Oliver screeched to a lurching halt in front of the familiar doors of the ER. Harley, stretched back between the two front seats, applied piercingly painful pressure above the wound, his breath coming in loud gasps between wheezing repetitions. “Don’t you f*****g die on me you thick-headed bastard. Don’t you f*****g die.”
Flying out of the driver’s seat, Oliver ran to the doors, opened one and yelled something unintelligible, which nonetheless had the desired effect of having a couple nurses run out to meet them. An ER trolley bed soon joined them. Someone unbuckled Nash and hoisted him out of the back seat and onto the transport.
Nash slurred an apology about the mess in the back seat as they rushed him through the open doors.
“I don’t gi
