turning--dozens of sharp teeth bit him. Fangs held him upside down, chewing his legs, his back.
Shouting; words he didn't understand. His name. Turquoise and black men rushing, upside down.
His name!
"Luca?"
"We get you, Christopher--don't move!"
Hands on his legs, lifting, making the teeth let go, making the pain dance on skin suddenly wet. Christopher lay flat on the ground, panting through
clenched teeth, wondering what the hell happened to him and--
"Stu!" He tried to sit up. Luca pushed him back down and pressed his jacket against Christopher's thigh.
"Teammates looking after him, Christopher. Stay here." Another rider joined them, pushing his jersey against Christopher's
calves.
"I have to see!" He struggled to sitting, but strong hands pinned him. Red stained through turquoise fabric. If he bled--then
Stu--what? Was he bleeding? Had he broken a bone? Bones? "I have to--"
"Stay, Christopher, stay. You're hurt, you can't help him." Luca pressed harder on his thigh, jamming a sleeve
against his bloody hip.
"The ambulance should be here in a few minutes, Luca." Another turquoise and black figure approached. "Rolf and the others
caught the car."
Car? Stu? Ambula--? "Wha' happened?" Christopher craned to see. A knot of cyclists moved uneasily on the road ahead
of the team car, and much farther down, half a dozen figures on bikes surrounded a white car. Sirens sounded in the far distance, growing closer.
"Car went around peloton, came back to lane too soon. Hit you into fence. Hit Stu. Shh, Christopher, they do what they can for him."
Oh man, if he wasn't moving, they probably thought he had a neck injury, please God, don't let him have a neck injury...Or a
back injury... Fucking car, must have been a helluva breakaway to catch it. Rolf caught a fucking car? But, that car had--what had it
done? Metal against flesh, steel stronger than bone.... His legs, his back--jelly and matchstick man against speeding iron? He fought
again to rise. "Luca... Gotta see Stu..."
He didn't see what signal passed between Luca and the other rider--different hands took over the pressure on his wounds. Luca shuffled
on his knees to hold Christopher to his chest, head cradled against the team logo that covered his heart. "No, Christopher, you can do nothing
for him, you don't want to see... Please believe me... You don't want to see..." The catch in
Luca's voice arrested him, pausing him in his struggle to get to his feet. "You must be okay, stay here..."
The sirens screamed their arrival, going silent but with lights still flashing; the paramedics clattered around, offloading equipment from two ambulances.
The cyclists yielded their places to the paramedics, who waved bright lights in his eyes. "Stu, how's Stu?" he demanded.
"The other paramedics have him," was the only reply, followed by inane questions about "how many fingers" and could
Christopher wiggle his toes.
"Let go, sir," one told Luca, who didn't yield. "Let go! We have to assess him; he may have broken bones and he
needs stitches." Luca did release him, but hovered over them all.
In the end, they strapped Christopher to the backboard, only lifting him to the gurney after slapping Luca away like a mosquito. "No, you
can't ride with him, sir; back away. Back away now. " A cop, huge in blue, pulled Luca aside.
"Later, Luca," Christopher croaked. "Tell them what happened."
He could see Stu's form on the other gurney, a blanket over him, not moving when he was loaded into to the other ambulance. Please not a back injury, not Stu, not a man who lives on his bike... The doors slammed shut; the vehicle swung around into the westbound
lane. From inside the ambulance the siren wasn't as loud as he'd imagined. Through the tiny rear windows he could see the other
ambulance turn to follow.
No lights. No sirens.
Chapter 10
The emergency room was a blur: hurry up and wait, X-rays, stitches, a blood draw he didn't understand after some garble about "Any
reason
Shouting; words he didn't understand. His name. Turquoise and black men rushing, upside down.
His name!
"Luca?"
"We get you, Christopher--don't move!"
Hands on his legs, lifting, making the teeth let go, making the pain dance on skin suddenly wet. Christopher lay flat on the ground, panting through
clenched teeth, wondering what the hell happened to him and--
"Stu!" He tried to sit up. Luca pushed him back down and pressed his jacket against Christopher's thigh.
"Teammates looking after him, Christopher. Stay here." Another rider joined them, pushing his jersey against Christopher's
calves.
"I have to see!" He struggled to sitting, but strong hands pinned him. Red stained through turquoise fabric. If he bled--then
Stu--what? Was he bleeding? Had he broken a bone? Bones? "I have to--"
"Stay, Christopher, stay. You're hurt, you can't help him." Luca pressed harder on his thigh, jamming a sleeve
against his bloody hip.
"The ambulance should be here in a few minutes, Luca." Another turquoise and black figure approached. "Rolf and the others
caught the car."
Car? Stu? Ambula--? "Wha' happened?" Christopher craned to see. A knot of cyclists moved uneasily on the road ahead
of the team car, and much farther down, half a dozen figures on bikes surrounded a white car. Sirens sounded in the far distance, growing closer.
"Car went around peloton, came back to lane too soon. Hit you into fence. Hit Stu. Shh, Christopher, they do what they can for him."
Oh man, if he wasn't moving, they probably thought he had a neck injury, please God, don't let him have a neck injury...Or a
back injury... Fucking car, must have been a helluva breakaway to catch it. Rolf caught a fucking car? But, that car had--what had it
done? Metal against flesh, steel stronger than bone.... His legs, his back--jelly and matchstick man against speeding iron? He fought
again to rise. "Luca... Gotta see Stu..."
He didn't see what signal passed between Luca and the other rider--different hands took over the pressure on his wounds. Luca shuffled
on his knees to hold Christopher to his chest, head cradled against the team logo that covered his heart. "No, Christopher, you can do nothing
for him, you don't want to see... Please believe me... You don't want to see..." The catch in
Luca's voice arrested him, pausing him in his struggle to get to his feet. "You must be okay, stay here..."
The sirens screamed their arrival, going silent but with lights still flashing; the paramedics clattered around, offloading equipment from two ambulances.
The cyclists yielded their places to the paramedics, who waved bright lights in his eyes. "Stu, how's Stu?" he demanded.
"The other paramedics have him," was the only reply, followed by inane questions about "how many fingers" and could
Christopher wiggle his toes.
"Let go, sir," one told Luca, who didn't yield. "Let go! We have to assess him; he may have broken bones and he
needs stitches." Luca did release him, but hovered over them all.
In the end, they strapped Christopher to the backboard, only lifting him to the gurney after slapping Luca away like a mosquito. "No, you
can't ride with him, sir; back away. Back away now. " A cop, huge in blue, pulled Luca aside.
"Later, Luca," Christopher croaked. "Tell them what happened."
He could see Stu's form on the other gurney, a blanket over him, not moving when he was loaded into to the other ambulance. Please not a back injury, not Stu, not a man who lives on his bike... The doors slammed shut; the vehicle swung around into the westbound
lane. From inside the ambulance the siren wasn't as loud as he'd imagined. Through the tiny rear windows he could see the other
ambulance turn to follow.
No lights. No sirens.
Chapter 10
The emergency room was a blur: hurry up and wait, X-rays, stitches, a blood draw he didn't understand after some garble about "Any
reason
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