Green Desert - Chapter 6.4.3 - Séara

I helped Míkoízo untangle himself. He groaned something unintelligible and coughed. “Yeah, I think so.”

Irézí Sıvíhí walked past us for a better look at the injured copilot, intrigued by pain and misery.

Míkoízo sat up with a grunt and looked down at his body, felt his knee. “Yeah, I’m okay.” His eyes shot past me. Sémıtagaré. He whispered, “Sharıgo,” and scrambled to his feet. His face tensed up with sadness and anger.

“Should we touch him?” I asked.

Míkoízo ignored me and stalked over to his injured friend, kneeling down just outside the front window. The newsgirl just stood and watched. I brushed past her and crouched beside Míkoízo. Sémıtagaré hadn’t changed in the past minutes––except the amount of blood in the sand.

“Yeah,” said the reporter. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Míkoízo stretched out his hand to the copilot’s face, gently touched it.

“Sorry,” blurted Irézí.

Míkoízo whispered, “Sharıgo, can you hear me?” He stroked his copilot’s cheek. “Can you move your feet?”

I moved closer to the pilot. “He’s not waking up. Can we call for help on the radio?”

The dark-skinned pilot peered close at Sharıgo’s bent neck. “How could they help us? This was our only helicopter.” He stood, staring deep into the helicopter, past the cockpit, through a doorway, back to where they would’ve carried Zhudıro, all locked up. Had the suspect managed to get a gun and shoot down the helicopter?

Míkoízo stepped onto the window frame, reaching for his chair.