Free The Last Run: A Novella by Stephen Knight Page A

Aspen collar there, as well as some extra pads and cold packs in the event CJ might have more blunt trauma impacts that might need attention. He also pulled out an orange shock blanket, still in its cellophane wrapper. As an afterthought, he shoved some painkillers and a bottle of water in his pockets. It was tough for him to carry everything, for he had to move carefully because of his injuries, as well as due to the items that had been scattered across the SCEV’s deck—cushions from the dining settee, the contents of several lockers that had sprung open, even one portion of the decking itself, which had popped upward and formed a hazardous ledge which threatened to trip him up. And, of course, Peter Lopez’s slowly-cooling body.
    Mulligan returned to the cockpit. CJ stared out the viewports now, her tears drying on her cheeks. For a moment, he feared she might have died while he was in the second compartment, but he could see the slow rise and fall of her chest as he eased inside the tight space. The mushroom could still loomed overhead, and as he slowly squatted down beside her and dumped the items he carried onto the deck, he found himself staring up at its great bloom. As horrifying as it was, there was something awe-inspiring about the cloud, something that bordered on being beautiful. He had no idea how he could even consider that.
    Tess. The kids…
    “Are you…you back?” CJ gasped beneath the mask.
    “Yeah. Let me help you get squared away.”
    “How…did Peter…die?”
    Mulligan fussed with the cervical collar, opening it and examining the various tabs that would hold it in place once he had it fitted around CJ’s neck. He would have to move carefully. He had already adjusted her position once, and he didn’t want to cause further injury when he put the collar on her. Thankfully, the copilot’s seat offered a lot of support, so he wouldn’t have to move her all that much.
    “I guess we rolled over,” Mulligan said. “I’m sorry. He was already gone when I found him. I did my best, CJ. Really.”
    “I know,” CJ whispered.
    “I need to put this collar on you. I’m going to try to be as gentle as I can, but if you feel any pain, let me know. All right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Mulligan removed the oxygen mask from her face. He supported her head as he elevated the seat and slowly raised the back slightly, just enough to tilt CJ forward. He then slipped on the cervical collar and closed it around her neck, pulling the straps as tight as he felt was safe. Gently, he pushed her back into the seat and reclined it a bit, then slipped the O2 mask back onto her face. He tore open the plastic bag wrapped around the shock blanket, then draped the orange fabric over her body.
    “How do you feel?”
    “Neck hurts,” she said. “Bad.”
    “All right. I’ll give you something for that in a bit. Do you hurt anywhere else?”
    “No. Can’t…can’t feel…anything else.”
    Mulligan lifted the blanket and did a check of her extremities, being as thorough as he could under the circumstances. “Can you breathe any better? Is the oxygen helping?”
    “Not really,” CJ said. “My sight…starting to come back. Outside…is that…the cloud?”
    “Yeah. The glare is starting to go away?” Mulligan thought that was a good sign. He knew a nuclear flash caused bleaching of the visual pigment in the retina, allowing the optic nerves to overload. He’d been told it would last only for a few minutes, but clearly the clinicians who had made the observations had never had a case study that had been sitting in ringside seats to a nuclear explosion.
    “Better.” CJ took a deep, troubling breath. “You should…go.”
    Mulligan looked up. “What?”
    “Go…your family. Get some suits…you should…hurry.”
    Mulligan didn’t know what to say. Leaving CJ was out of the question…but then, so was staying with her. There was practically zero chance that help would ever arrive, and the odds of being able to make