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“Where are we?”
“Barneys New York.”
Tim paused, then nodded, as if that was the most normal thing he could have heard.
“Good, good,” Tim said. “I was looking for a sale on Manolos. Size eight, if you please.” He looked at the fur coats covering him, then at the one around Paulius’s shoulders.
“Nice,” Tim said. “Did you bring your pimp cane and my chalice?”
He was joking. That was a good sign. “How do you feel?”
Tim didn’t answer. He lifted his leg, looked at the blood-spotted bandage on his calf. “St.i.tches?”
Paulius nodded. “Yep. Seven, I think.”
“Blue Cross should cover that. Can I a.s.sume that your st.i.tches are all nice and neat?”
“Probably not,” Paulius said. “But they tell me scars are a mark of character.”
“Gosh, lucky me. I’ll have so much to talk about at my next book club meeting.”
Paulius subtly pointed at Ramierez. “He’s gut-shot, fading fast. Need you to fix him up.”
Tim stood. He pulled on one of the fur coats and limped over to Ramierez.
Paulius watched. Tim pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, then gently looked inside Ramierez’s fatigues, which Paulius had left open.
Tim hobbled back, spoke quietly enough that Ramierez couldn’t hear.
“I don’t have anything to work with,” Tim said. “Even if I did, I doubt I could save him. He’s lost too much blood. As he is now, he’s got maybe a few hours. Can we get a helicopter in here, get him back to the Coronado?”
“No, we can’t take that chance. We’re still too close to where the Converted have probably deployed their Stingers. We have to get farther north. Can we carry him?”
Tim pursed his lips, let out a long breath. “He wouldn’t last a half mile. He’s not the only one. I can barely move, hoss. Could we drive out?”
“Not without a tank. You saw the roads — too many cars blocking the way. We need something big, and I didn’t see any semis out there.”
Tim pulled at his lower lip as he thought.
Ramierez gave a halfhearted wave. “Commander, it’s Bosh. He’s got Roth. Coming in now.”
Paulius’s chest swelled with relief, but he tempered the emotion, pushed it down. Bosh could have made that call under duress.
“Otto, get up,” he said. “Come with me.” Paulius gripped Tim’s shoulder, turned him toward Ramierez.
“Ram, you need something to do. Show this man how to use your M4.”
Tim’s eyes went wide? “Me? I’m no good with guns.”
“Yes, you,” Paulius said. “And you’ll learn, right now. Go.”