(TYLER)
I'm leaning over Sasha's shoulder to check on him, wheezing in his ear like some decrepit—pushing the weight of a wheelchair plus Sasha up a slope is quite a fucking work out—when there's an explosion up ahead, the blast waves strong enough to flatten even Marco against the wall, and Sasha and I go skidding backward into Burgess.
If I hadn't been leaning over him, I think I would have tumbled head over ass.
As it is, I just slam into Burgess, and both of us are pinned against the wall for a moment with Sasha's wheelchair, which has careened sideways. Sasha is slumped to the side.
"Shit," Burgess spits.
I have to agree. We can hear yelling and screaming from up ahead, running feet, gunfire. Someone is trying to force their way into the tunnel, and I don't think they're friendly. But my first focus is Sasha. I manage to shove the wheelchair forward and slide out from behind it, coming around to crouch down and look at his face.
