BODIEI walk towards Dyer in large strides and, as soon as I get to him, I ask, “What happened to her?”

His expression remains serious, but he carefully masks the panic that had been on his face earlier. “You need to get that bullet extracted,” he says, looking at my injured arm. “You’re bleeding Bodie.”

Nothing he says about my bleeding arm registers in my head. All I want is answers to the question I asked, which he's avoiding.

That alone tells me that something is ...