Piper swallowed nervously, his fingers shaking, then his hands, then his entire body by the time he stood up. He pulled off the outer shirt he was wearing, and he balled it up against the wound in Shane's stomach, applying pressure then tugging Shane's hand over to hold it in place.
He thought he told Shane to hold it there, to keep pressure on it, but he was signing it and not speaking. He had no conscious idea that he was doing it.
He approached the man, who was face down, slowly and he knelt beside him and turned the him over tentatively. When he did, tears of panic started streaming down his cheeks. The knife was sticking out of the man's throat, and he was gurgling, blood coming from his mouth.
With panicked fingers, Piper did the only thing he could think to do: He grabbed the knife, and he pulled it out. The spray of blood that coated him was hot and thick, and his white t-shirt was quickly soaked. For his part, all Piper could do was stare in shock as the man writhed, then stilled.
A small sound from Shane, and he crawled back to him, the other man's knife still clutched in his fingers. He tugged Shane's arm, wanting him to get to his feet, but unable to actually say the words. His face was ashen white, despite the blood covering it, and he had no idea what to do.