The Rain: The End by Marietta Standlee (good summer reads TXT) 📕

I don't know if I've been shot in the calf or just grazed; I only know, it hurts like a son of a bitch. Colin shoots again, and another shadow falls to the ground. Three run straight at us, firing as they gain ground; one gets flung back by my bullet, the second gets hit by Colin, but the third throws himself at me, knife outstretched towards my abdomen.

Before I can bring my foot up to fling him back, Colin kicks him full force in the torso. He crashes to the left of me, loses his knife, eyes ablaze with hate and fury. Before he can throw himself at me again, Colin shoots him right between the eyes, and the alien falls back, dead.

Colin kneels beside me. He uses the alien's knife, which is right in the dirt beside us, to cut off some of my pant legs.

"Through and through. Hurts, but you'll live," he announces before pressing something on my wound from both sides.

I scream out in pain and curse him, through my slitted lids, another shadow in the smoke catches my attention. I never let go of my gun because I was contemplating hitting Colin over the head with it. I raise it and shoot at the incoming threat.

"Shit, my ears." Colin complaints.

I raise my eyebrow sarcastically at him, and he laughs before he swings me up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, with me facing down his back. He secures my body, by placing his left hand firmly on my ass. I curse him loudly and vilely because, in all my visions of me being injured and him carrying me, this was in none of them. He falters for a second as an especially hard and close impact rocks the ground.

"Get down!" I scream as debris comes flying at us.

Without questioning me, he does as I demand, and we find ourselves once more on the ground, him shielding me with his body. I wiggle and squirm just a little and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"What was that for?" he asks with a smile.

"Just thanks for all the times you saved my ass today."

He kisses me back, "Ditto," he whispers.

"When you guys are done making out, let's go." I hear Drew's familiar voice.

Colin's body lifts off mine, and before I can get up, I'm flung once more across his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Drew's grinning face is right in mine as I'm bobbing up and down, and I want to smack him.

Finally, we make it back to our ship. Several others are already on the ramp, securing it and firing at anything that might have followed us or others.

"Get her to the med unit." Colin tosses me at Drew.

For the first time, I notice the blood running down his arm. "You're hurt." I manage just before Drew carries me into the ship.

I try to protest, but it doesn't do me any good. I wish my arm was injured instead of my leg, that way, at least I could make a run for it. Without fanfare, Drew deposits me into the medical room, where an older man looks at me expectantly. Seems like I'm the first one here. Lucky me.

"My calf." I explain. I haven't seen him before, and I decide I should introduce myself. "Vivian Allister."

"I know who you are. I'm Frank Bennett, the medic assigned to this unit." He introduces himself.

      Frank looks to be the most humorless person I've ever met. And what does he mean by I know who you are? Is that good or bad?

"Ouch!" I curse as he pokes my calf.

"It's through and through," he observes.

No shit, Sherlock, I think, but bite my tongue before I say something that I'll regret. Frank does not seem the type who would understand a joke or take well to criticism.

"I'll clean it first after I cut your pant leg off." He informs me dryly.

"Okay." I don't have much of a choice but to agree.

I watch him with interest as he does as he says. Whatever he's using to disinfect my wound stings like crazy. I wonder if they imported our medicine as well as our food in anticipation of humans getting injured. He gives me a shot around the wound, and I almost cry out in pain. This hurts almost more than being shot. Who is this guy?

"Don't take this the wrong way, Frank, but where did you learn medicine?"

"Sorry, if I hurt you, I'm not used to working on the living. I was a medical examiner not too long ago."

I swallow my next remark. A medical examiner? How wonderful. What. The. Hell? Who assigned this guy? This looks like one of Martin's sick jokes.

"It should be numb in a minute; I promise it won't hurt after." Frank assurances me.

With a sigh, I lean back on the gurney and close my eyes, since there is nothing else I can do. I feel some tugging on my leg, but thankfully it's numb, and I don't feel the needle going in and out. After a moment, I'm close to dozing off; not having slept the night before and spending all day fighting is taking its toll on my body, not to mention the various injuries. I don't trust Frank, but I'm too tired to object to anything at this point.

Some commotion from outside makes me sit up, and Frank curses under his breath at my abrupt change in body position. I hope he didn't cut me or got a stitch wrong, but all my instincts scream at me to fight and not to care about my leg. I pull my Glock out just in time as the door opens, and Colin is pushed inside. With a sigh, I put the gun back into its holster.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

Drew is the one who pushed Colin into the room and follows him in. His eyes widen at the sight of my exposed leg, which is not a good sign, but again