RIPTIDE | Rafe Cameron

17. 𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦

They say time stops when you're anxious, a minute feels like an hour, an hour feels like a day, and a day feels like a lifetime. I know I shouldn't be getting involved, I should be with JJ, Pope and Kie, at least then my hands wouldn't be trembling and my heartbeat wouldn't be irregular.

I walked as quickly as I could down the street leading to the airfield, hoping and praying that everyone is okay.

When I turn the corner, about three minutes from the airfield entrance I hear the sound of several gunshots in quick succession. I feel the panic and anxiety set in throughout my body, terrified by the possibility of what could be happening to my friends right now.

As I hurry alongside the front perimeter of the heavily secure airfield I notice a small gap in the fence, about forty metres away from the main gate, which is manned by security staff. I tug at the damaged fence, crouching down on my knees and crawling through, feeling the chicken wire brushing against my body as I wriggle through to the other side.

I stand up and begin walking towards the plane, but it's only as I get closer that I realise someone is lying on the floor on the other side of the plane. So in a state of panic I sprint towards the tarmac, my heart beating so fast that it could burst through my rib cage at any given moment.

What if it's Sarah?

What if it's John B?

What if it's Rafe?

As I reach the other side of the plane I see Rafe standing over Sheriff Peterkin as Ward struggles to get Sarah into Rafe's truck. Sheriff Peterkin is in a bad way, she's bleeding from her shoulder, probably millimetres from her heart, she looks as though she's struggling to breathe. So why is no one helping her?

"Rafe," I whisper, feeling my hands tremble again, "What's happened?"

He turns to me, seeming surprised by my presence, his eyes are bloodshot again, and his hands are shaking too, "Hey baby," He whispers calmly with a gentle smile, as if there isn't a woman bleeding to death on the tarmac.

"What happened?" I repeat, clenching my fists in fear.

"You shouldn't be here, Sid," He says as he approaches me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest with his back to the Sheriff, "You shouldn't have to see this."

"Rafe, we have to help her," I mutter, trying to evade his embrace, "She's bleeding out."

"Sid, look at me," Rafe says sternly, startling me as he grabs onto my arms, forcing me to look at him in the eye, and the only thing I can see is fear, "There's nothing we can do."

"We have to try," I insist, wrenching my arms from his grip and dropping to my knees beside Sheriff Peterkin.

Rafe was right, she's in a bad way, a point of no return kind of bad way. I tug on the hem of Rafe's t-shirt that I've been wearing since this morning, ripping the bottom section away from the rest of the top, hoping maybe I can stem the bleeding before an ambulance arrives.

The Sheriff seems like she could slip out of consciousness at any moment, her eyes closing gently as her breathing slows. As I press the ripped t-shirt down on the gunshot wound I notice John B's bandana has also been placed over the wound. He couldn't have done it could he? Where is he?

"Rafe," I glance up at him as I press down on Peterkin's wound, "Where's John B?"

"He ran," Rafe tells me as he crouches beside me, "He did all of this and then he ran."

"John B did this?" I whisper, glancing at Rafe, "He wouldn't."

"Well who else would it be?" Rafe replies through gritted teeth as I fall back to sitting on the tarmac, Rafe wrapping his arm around me before I can fall against the tarmac, "You think any of us are capable of this?"