Choice

Morgan hears a bullet zing past his ear and he ducks around the corner again, sprinting back to the door.

Carson lies motionless for several moments, but finally lets out a bit of a groan, rolling himself onto his back. He moves a hand to his left shoulder and draws back, his fingers covered in blood. “Aw, dang.”

He winces, his shoulder feeling as if it were on fire. “Misty’s inside,” he manages to Nate. “I saw her. We have to get to her.”

By now, Reese is kneeling by him as well, his tone hushed. “Come on, can you get up?”

“Yeah.” Carson uses Nate to pull himself up, staggering for a moment and trying to get his bearings, trying to ignore the excruciating pain. “Where’s the shooter?”

Reese points. “He went that way, around the corner.” Seeing Carson start forward in the lead again, he tries to stop him. “Carson, wait…” Too late, he was already around the side of the building. Reese rolls his eyes and motions Nate ahead of him, taking up the rear once more.

Carson holds a hand to his wound, concentrating on his task, not his injury. Keeping a wary eye, he sees no one around, then finally spots the door. Opening it cautiously, he peeks inside, then steps into the narrow hall. Just as he does, he sees Frankie emerge a ways down with Misty slung over his shoulder.

Raising his pistol with both hands, Carson barks at him. “Frankie! Put her down or die!”

Outside, Morgan sneaks up behind Reese, but his foot lands on a branch that snaps. Reese whirls around just in time to duck a flying fist, then lands his own on Morgan’s jaw, followed by an elbow to the side of the face, a jab to the ribs, then a chop to the back of the neck, sending Morgan to the ground unconscious.