Gard endurance

Miss Gard lay in bed. It had been hauled over to the window so that she could see out of it. She had a heavy assault rifle of a design I didn't recognize next to her. The wooden handle of a double-headed battle-ax leaned against the bed, within reach of her hand. Gard was blond, tall, athletic, and while she wasn't precisely beautiful, she was a striking woman, with clean-cut features, icy blue eyes, and an athlete's build.
She was also a mess of blood.
She was soaked in it. So was the bed beneath her. Her shirt was open, revealing a black athletic bra and a long wound that ran the width of her stomach, just below her belly button. Slick grey-red ropy loops protruded slightly from the wound.
My stomach twisted, and I looked away.
"Goodness," Miss Gard said, her voice quiet and rough, her face pale. "You'd think you never saw anyone disemboweled before."
"Just relieved," I said. I forced myself to face her. "First time today I've run into someone who looks worse than me."
She showed me a weary smile for a moment.
"You need a doctor," I said.
She shook her head. "No."
"Yes," I said. "You do. I'm surprised you haven't bled to death already. Think of what it would cost Monoc Securities to replace you."
"They won't need to. I'll be fine. The company has a great health care package." She picked up a small tube of what looked like heavy-duty modeling glue from the bed at her side. "This isn't the first time I've had my guts ripped out. It isn't fun, but I'll make it."
"Damn," I said, genuinely impressed. "Are they hiring?"
The question won another faint smile. "You don't really fit the employee profile."
"I am tired of being kept down by the man," I said.
Gard shook her head wearily. "How did you find us?"
"Demeter," I said.
She lifted a golden eyebrow. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. Though I've warned him. He's too trusting."
"Marcone? Is too trusting?" I widened my eyes at her. "Lady, that pretty much puts you in a paranoiac league of your own."
"It isn't paranoia-just practical experience. A safe house isn't safe if it isn't secret." She reached down and pressed bloodied fingers against a loop of gore, gently kneading it back into the wound. She let out a hiss of pain as she did, but she didn't let a little thing like an exposed internal organ get in the way of conversation. "You threatened her?"
"Uh. Mostly I told her I'd help Marcone."
She lifted the tube of airplane glue and smeared some of it onto either side of the wound, where she'd pushed her guts back in. She bled a little more. I noted that several inches of the wound had already been closed and sealed together.


Small Favor Chapter 12, Page 96-98