The Asgardian let out a short, fierce yell and grasped his shoulder, with blood gushing out between his fingers. If Sal hadn't pushed Mitch out of the way, the boy would have crumbled right there in front of the action: the shock of the bullet was paralyzing enough, not counting the amount of pain that was shooting through his body from his shoulder. Instead, he fell against the wall as he'd been pushed away, and slid down to sit on the floor.
Thoughts, by trying to keep the mind distracted from the pain, were like bees that buzzed a nearly constant tattoo in Mitch's mind: 'Am I dying? What'll Sal do now? God, God, God, please get me outta this. Why do I only pray in these situations? Will I get help or die here?'
He wouldn't have thanked Sal's pride, even if Mitch clearly understood the mess he was in, but if he could stay alive until these Niflheimers could drive Sal away, he thought he might have a chance to get to Eileen and Henry.