Secrets and Lies | ✔️

Chapter 30 - Charlie

Ch.30 - Charlie

The discharge of the rifle resonated like an explosion, the echo bouncing off the Cyprus trees in a series of waves.

Charlie tensed his shoulders, taken off guard. Instinctively, he turned to the sound. He tried to make sense of the commotion when another noise caught his attention. His eyes moved upward, toward a groaning limb fifteen feet above. The leaf-covered extremity swayed violently above him before crashing down, not allowing him the chance to move away.

It took a moment for Charlie to realize he was pinned to the ground, the branch so heavy it felt as if half the tree were lying on top of him. He struggled to take a deep breath and when his lungs wouldn't fill he began to panic. It was the same sensation he had when he woke up coated in sweat in the middle of the night. The nightmares he'd suffered from for the past three years, the same nightmares he promised Talia he didn't have anymore. Crushing, suffocating, drowning him in the past and what he had done.

Charlie pushed against the trunk barely able to budge it, forcing out what little air was left in his lungs. Patches of black pricked at his vision, the darkness closing in from all sides. He wouldn't be conscious for long if he didn't calm down. Charlie closed his eyes, fighting against the blurriness, but the fire in his chest made it nearly impossible. An image from the morning, of Talia holding baby Carter, swam before him.

He couldn't just lay there, he had to do something. With a burst of energy, he twisted his shoulders, the move allowing him just enough room to take a breath. Charlie drew in sharply, feeling a sense of relief as air found its way into his lungs. He let himself relax, resting his cheek against the cool earth beneath him.

Footsteps pounded a short distance away, the vibrations growing closer with each shallow breath.

"Charlie!" Ryan's voice slammed into him.

"I'm okay." Charlie tried to answer, but his voice only registered a whisper. He maneuvered beneath the limb, trying to get Ryan's attention.

"You grab that end, I'll get this side," he heard him call out, instructing Jackson on what to do.

Now that he could breathe, Charlie focused on the pain that shot through his left arm. It throbbed in time with his heartbeats, like a knife stabbing him over and over again. He could hear Ryan and Jackson heaving and grunting around him.

Once the heavy weight lifted, a scream pierced through the woods. Frantically, Charlie looked around him, wondering who'd let out the noise. With assistance, he stumbled to his feet, his gaze moving back and forth between Ryan and Jackson, their eyes wide, expressions worried. Loud moans continued to rise up around them.

He blinked as Ryan pulled his jacket from him, a trail of fire shot down his arm as he removed it from the sleeve. Ryan then removed his own jacket, and then his t-shirt underneath. Bare-chested, Ryan's hands moved quickly, expertly, ripping the shirt in half down the center. His fingers continued to work at the fabric until he had several long strips.

Charlie swayed on his feet when Ryan lifted his arm. He felt as light as a feather catching a warm summer's breeze, twisting and twirling through the air without a care in the world. Ryan gripped tighter, and it wasn't until he began wrapping a strip of material around his bicep that Charlie noticed the bubbling pool of red. The last time he'd seen that much blood someone had died. He'd killed them. He'd shot them in the head.

Crimson seeped through the thin white fabric as soon as it secured to his arm. Another strip was added and then another until four were layered on top, one right over the next. He knew Ryan was talking, he watched in dazed amusement as his lips moved angrily, his gaze fixed on Jackson. But the words somehow escaped him. They sounded muffled, as if he were listening from under water.