Savages

229

Fuck that.

Chon’s response to Ben’s “We have to get you to a hospital.”

Chon rips off a piece of his shirt, presses it to his shoulder, down on the wound, and keeps pressing.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” Ben asks.

“You go to a hospital with a gunshot wound,” Chon says calmly, “the first thing they do is call the cops. Drive to Ocotillo Wells.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Ben answers, his hands trembling on the wheel. There’s no hospital in Ocotillo Wells. It’s a little desert shit-hole that services the four-wheeler, off-road types.

“Ocotillo Wells,” Chon answers.

“Okay.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Just don’t die,” Ben says. “Stay with me. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to say?”

Chon laughs.

Chon is so cool.

Been There Before.

In Stanland. Convoy ambushed. Narrow mountain road. Shit flying, people hurt, you either stay cool or your people die, you die. You don’t do that, you stay cool, you get—

Everybody Out.

Speaking of which—