Scott tried to go faster than a bullet. He'd outrun them before both here and back home, but he was already shot. He realized belatedly he should be making sure he wasn't running into mountain ash, but he knew stopping to look would get him killed too.
Two of the three bullets hit and it sent Scott tumble head over feet in a summersault and a few more rolls before he stopped face first half covered behind a bush. It took his a second to push himself up enough where he could roll over onto his back. He was panting now, looking up at the night sky. Part of him was screaming at himself to get up and keep going and the other part told him to stay there. A day before she died, Lydia had wondered if dying here meant you really died and right now he could see the appeal in really believe that. Maybe he hadn't failed his friends. Maybe they were all back home. All of them that don't die there anyway.
The last thought gave him enough energy to pull himself up to sitting. He had been hit in the arm and the thigh. It made moving painful. Allison was still here though. He needed to survive so he could help keep her alive. Of course Scott's head was swimming. He had no real idea how long it took for him to turn over and then to sit up and he hadn't even found the strength to move yet.