Sean McKlusky's Pick:
Redux
by Gavin Broom
"This is an enjoyable read and good, solid flash fiction."
With burning frustration, I threw the green bottle of smelling salts into the corner of the room. I heard it smash but I didn't see it — my eyes were fixed on Harry's vacant face.
"Don't you die," I told him, pushing the sweat from my brow. "Goddammit, don't you die on me."
Still, there was no reaction. His stare remained fixed and empty. When I shook him by the shoulders, his mouth flopped open and his tongue poked out a little.
"You stay with me, Harry. You don't have my permission to die today. Harry? Harry?"
I clasped my hands together, raised them above my head and tried to figure out where his heart would be. Was it bang in the centre? Was it slightly to one side? How far down? I had no idea, so taking a guess, I clenched my eyes and my teeth shut and hammered my fists down into his ribs. His head rolled forward an inch and then smacked into the concrete with a hollow thud. There was no other reaction and no other sound.
Again, angrier this time, my fists crashed into his chest. Once more, there was no discernible sign of life. There was nothing else for it. I grabbed his chin with one hand and pinched his nose with my fingers on the other. Like a diver, I stretched the fabric of my lungs with a massive breath then sealed my mouth against his. Ignoring the taste of blood and smelling salts, I steadily exhaled into him, praying that some life would be transferred from me.
Something seemed to happen. From the corner of my eye, I saw his chest rise as my breath inflated him. I took this as a positive sign so I placed my hands over his heart and pushed down three times as though I was preparing to vault a wall.
"Come on, Harry," I urged, ignoring how desperate and breathless I was sounding. "Come back to me. Come on."
He didn't answer immediately so I give him the kiss of life again. My whole body was drained and my aching arms were heavy and dull but somehow I ignored their weight and powered into his bruised chest then another burst of three pushes.
And then it happened.
He coughed and spluttered out a bloody bubble. The relief stole the last remaining ounces of my energy. My head fell on to his chest and I took a moment to regain my emotions and my strength. Within a couple of minutes, our breathing had regulated.
With a grunt, I righted his chair and made sure the ropes were still firmly in place around his wrists, waist and shoulders. He wasn't going anywhere. Not if I had anything to do with it.
I slapped his face until his groggy eyes met mine.
"Okay, Harry. Let's start again, shall we? From the top ... where are the diamonds?"
Gavin Broom lives in the Scottish countryside with his wife and his cat. He dreams of the day he has earned enough from his writing to buy a house at the beach.