“The gunfire was still there, just as loud as ever, but somehow it didn’t matter. Nothing outside the valley mattered anymore. One of the two civilians that had run from us was an old man, perhaps in his sixties. It was me that shot him, square through the heart, which perhaps might have been a small mercy. The other was a middle-aged woman. She had lost a huge chunk of flesh from her thigh, presumably as the dart had chipped a bone and the resulting chip had become a secondary projectile. She h...ad been silent initially, perhaps due to the initial impact having knocked her out or something. Now she was conscious, and she had begun to scream. ‘Don’t just fucking stare at her, Weatherall!’ I barked as I approached. ‘Get a tourniquet on her, now!’ Weatherall knelt over the screaming woman, looking panicked as he fumbled with his med pouch. I knelt by her head and placed a restraining arm against her shoulder, stopping her from attempting to look at the wound. ‘It’s OK’ I tried to sound soothing.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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