Blood soaked one leg of his jeans, and she saw more, pulsing from a tear in the denim. “You’re hit,” she said. “Why didn’t you say something?” He didn’t answer. Sheena said, “What do we do? Will he die?” “He’ll be fine,” Emma told her. She was amazed at the calm sound of her voice given the roiling going on within her, but Sheena sounded scared half to death. “You two, take a look around,” she said, giving the kids something to do besides stand there gawking at Devlin’s bleeding thigh. “Make sure we haven’t been followed.” They’d been traveling fast through the woods away from DPI, but they hadn’t got far enough to be safe from pursuit. And yet, she didn’t feel anyone following them, which was just odd. As the kids jogged away, Emma ripped the hole in Devlin’s jeans wider, better to see the wound. The blood was the color of mulberry wine in the darkness of the night.
