My desperate lies don’t convince him.
“Kat,” he says — the first time he’s ever used my name, and it sounds like a prayer on his lips. “Kat—”
I bite through my lip so I won’t scream.
Keeping one hand on the worst of his wounds, the big one in his abdomen where glass and metal ripped through him like a knife through a block of cheese, I reach into his pocket and pull out his cellphone. My fingers are so wet with blood, it takes a few tries before the screen recognizes my keystrokes. I push the emergency button and wait for the call to connect, cursing each passing second.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“There’s been an accident,” I yell into the receiver. “Please, you have to come, straightaway!”
“What is your location, ma’am?” The disembodied voice is so composed I want to reach through the line and strangle the woman it belongs to.
Doesn’t she realize how bad this is?
Doesn’t she know my friend is dying?
I do my best to give a description of our location, slightly relieved when she informs me another motorist already called it in.
“Emergency personnel should reach you within five minutes.”
Five minutes.
An eternity.
Too long, too long, too long.
My heart is splintering inside my chest.
“We’re down the embankment. My friend — he’s hurt. You have to come. Please come… he’s… I think… I think he might be…” I shake myself. “Please, just get here!”
Masters wheezes in pain.
I drop the phone into the dirt and move both my hands back to the gaping wound, applying pressure as best I can. I pull my soaked dress train up and try to use it as a compress; his blood saturates the fabric so fast there’s little point.
“Don’t worry,” I lie to him, trying to sound positive despite the tears coursing from my eyes, falling onto his face, mixing with the steady flow of raindrops from the sky. “They’re coming, Kent. They’re coming.”
His eyes meet mine again, hazy with pain.
“Tell her…” He coughs, blood flying from his lips, spraying against my face as I lean close to catch his words. “Tell her…”
I grab his hand and squeeze it as tight as I can. “Tell her yourself, when you see her later.”
A sound rattles in his throat.
A sound like death.
A second later, I watch his eyes lose focus, the life draining out of them as the blood drains from his body into the earth. His face goes slack. His chest stops moving up and down in labored breaths.
“No!” My voice breaks on a scream. “Don’t you dare leave, Kent Masters. You hang on. Do you hear me? You just hang on for a few more minutes. Just hang on, and everything will be okay.”
But it’s not okay.
He can’t hang on.
He’s already gone.
* * *