Sixty-one: Whites of the eyes

The engine roared, screeching to a halt a little way ahead of us. Uniformed Boskies leapt out, dragging me off Mr Raring, kicking him away, while I screamed in fear. Mr Raring fought with them for me and a gunshot made my stomach drop with dread. He sank to his knees and I somehow fought free to kneel beside him, pressing hands shaking over his bleeding upper chest. It was closer to the shoulder, but still. He grimaced, holding a bloody hand to the wound, sinking down onto his knees.

"No, please God, no," I held onto him when they tried to pull me away. I heard the screeching of other vehicles coming this way at high speed and clutched hold of Mr Raring.

"Forget it. Bring them both," someone barked and we were both bundled into the armoured van, where a rag was given to Mr Raring and I hovered next to him, not knowing what to do.

"Don't die, don't die," I whispered over and over. "You can't die."

"I thought you didn't like me," Mr Raring lifted an eyebrow at me.

"I don't," I told him, "didn't, but you still can't die. I don't want anyone to die."

"Being shot really hurts," Mr Raring gave a small laugh through gritted teeth. "Ahh. I'm sorry, but I think I'm gonna pass out."

"No, no, no," I said. "Stay awake. Don't die."

I grabbed the nearest soldier to me.

"Don't let him die. Please don't let him die. I can't - please, help him. Help him."

"What for? He's an enemy agent," the Bosky soldier shook me off.

"He's a good guy. He's nice to me when no one else cares. Please. Please help him," I turned to another soldier. He too, shook me off. His eyebrow jumped. Had a tic. "Oh. Oh," I put my hands to my mouth, pointing and recognising these soldiers. "You - you. You. Office worker, five o'clock shadow, eyebrow tic. You led the group last time. Bird face - slouching youth."

"Oi!"

"Burly wrestler guy. Sharp jaw guy. Wannabe musician. Had a haircut."

"Hey! I'm a real musician here. A real musician."

"Plays ukelele well," I rattled off. "Moves like a dancer. Walks on toes."

"She's calling you girly, Whistlor."

"No, she's recognised my abilities, unlike you tone deaf freaks."

"Mr Raring," I patted the ashen faced agent's cheek. "Mr Raring. It's them. The guys you've been looking for, but couldn't find."

"Yeah," Mr Raring breathed, taking advantage of my complimentary surprise at these particular Boskies. "They're better than a lot of our agents at the craft. Would that we'd had people like them on our side. Then we wouldn't be losing so badly."

"Ooh, compliments," Bird Face clapped his hands. "From the other side. This is new. We could hear more of this."

"You're all good guys," I lied, telling the Bosky soldiers around me, understanding Mr Raring's hint - at least, I thought I did, "or Kiran wouldn't trust you all so much. You're the best team, he said."

"Oh, well," a few of the guys shuffled around, seeming bashful, which looked odd on tough guys like them.

"No wonder he likes you," Burly Wrestler Guy slapped me on the back. "You give praise even to your enemies."

I choked, coughing hard. Couldn't stop. Moist coughs that made my lips start to go numb and tingle. The soldiers exchanged looks.

"Don't hurt her. Be gentle," Mr Raring breathed. "Please. She's so fragile."

"Oh, all right," Five O'clock Shadow nodded around. "Save him."

The soldiers sprang into action, looking like they had done this many times before.

"Did you know," Whistlor the Musician put his arm around my shoulders, patting my back gently while I continued coughing, "that we've been all trying to kill you all this time, thinking you'd duped the Chief? The only reason he's fighting these days, is for you, rather than what he's supposed to be doing. We've been toying with the idea of quietly doing away with you so that he can concentrate on the real war."

"What are you doing, man?" Sharp Jaw asked. "You trying to scare her to death? Look how pale she's gone. Her lips are blue."

"Only introducing her to the realities of what she's getting into. We all know she's a sharper little lady than meets the eye. Besides, it's whatever chest infection she's got, making her pale. Not anything I said."

"What, so she survives hell in the Compound just so that you can kill her?" Burly Wrestler Guy shook his head, holding Mr Raring down to help him stop the bleeding while Mr Raring grunted in pain. "That isn't nice at all. She called you a good guy and now you're making out you're a bad guy? Smooth move, man."

"I'm being realistic here," Whistlor said, squeezing my shoulder. "By the way," he asked me, "what happened to Shaun? We lost contact with him and nobody seems to know who he is in the Compound anymore."

I showed him the whites of my eyes and his voice sounded amazed.

"Guys, I think the girl just fainted on me. What about Shaun?"

"What do you expect? If you've scared her to death, we'll see what Kiran does to you when we get back. We all know what's happened to Shaun. You can ask her properly later."

The voices faded.