Piece: Part V

“No, Ethan,” Matthew groaned. “No…” He lugged the deadweight body out of the driver’s seat and pushed him into the back, then jumped into the front himself. His fingers were shaking as he turned the ignition and felt in his jacket for his phone.
“911? My friend…” he began, but stopped as Ethan slumped over and made a gurgling noise. “NO! Ethan!” He caught himself as he began to swerve off the gravel road, and then pulled to a stop. “NO!” He fell out of his seat and crawled over to get Ethan’s door open.
“Sir?” a concerned female voice said from the phone he had dropped.
He scrambled to pick it up. “Yes, my friend…he shot himself. I don’t know how he got the gun, but his chest…blood…” his words were interrupted by his heavy breathing as he felt for a pulse, made sure that Ethan was still breathing.
“We’ll send an ambulance right away,” the voice said. “Where are you, sir?”
“North Street Cemetery, near the entrance,” he managed to stutter. He slumped against the side of the car, letting the gravel get in his shoes and socks, the dust all over his fine black suit. He new they wouldn’t leave him alone, but he had no words. The hand the phone was in fell to his lap, and he just sat there, staring at the sky. What am I supposed to do, he wondered to himself.
He sat until he heard the sirens pulling in, and then allowed the paramedics to pull him up. He felt all kinds of hands checking his vitals, shining lights into his eyes, trying to ask him questions. He could vaguely see the bright white uniforms and the stretchers being rolled out of the ambulance. They tried to put him on one, but he shrugged them off and stumbled away.
“I’m not hurt,” he mumbled. The paramedics eyed him warily. “I’m not hurt.” He said it again, louder, trying to convince them. He knew they didn’t believe him, but they turned to Ethan, who was quickly losing blood. They got him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Several of the medical technicians looked back at him expectantly before they closed the door, but Matthew just watched them go.
As soon as they were gone, he stumbled back to his own car, blood-spattered and in shock. He slumped into the driver’s seat and put the key into the ignition, but didn’t turn it. Straight ahead of him, he could see the spot where the three headstones of his loved ones stood. He had somehow, in the terror and excitement, forgotten everything that had happened. Now, as it all flooded back to him, he let his head fall into his hands, then looked at them in horror as he realized that they were covered in Ethan’s blood. He franticly dug through his glove box to find tissues, which he used to scrub off the sticky red blood from his face. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were red not from blood but from pressure, and his face felt raw. As he threw the wad of stained tissues onto the floor of the passenger’s side, his fear subsided, and he began to cry, great wracking sobs, as if he had never cried before in his life.