Dubious Arrangement: Day 18

Word Count: 108,003

Summary of Events:
After losing the gangsters, Greyson ran and was spotted again; he ended up being shot, but yet got himself all the way to the hospital before he passed out. At the hospital he was tended to and able to get a prosthetics specialist in from the nearby military base to figure out that his arm needed cleaning and lubrication. Once he was released from hospital he headed back toward the chicken farm, but ended up finding the driveway to the cabin he'd hidden at before and even succeeded in lying his way into getting a key to access the cabin. He then went to see what the gangsters were up to and was spotted by them, but evaded them once again.

Excerpt of the Day:
"He climbed over the fence and took off at a dead run as fast as he could to the fenced-in trees on the other side. His side was seriously sore when he arrived and scrambled over the fence.
Once he was sure he was safely hidden in the trees he sat down and worked to catch his breath. He ought to be safe for at least a little while. Lifting up his shirt, he looked at the gauze pad taped over his side, it was soaked red with blood.
Greyson swore. He'd probably ripped his stitches open. He thought there was gauze in the trailer, though, hopefully he could at least stem the bleeding if there was gauze in there.
Slowly he got to his feet and hurried over to the trailer. Getting inside, he went to the master bathroom and checked all of the drawers. There was gauze. Thank heaven. He peeled his shirt off so he didn't have to hold it up and then tore the bloodstained gauze off of his side.
He rolled a pad of toilet paper and dabbed at his side, soaking up the blood so he could assess the wound damage. Things didn't look too bad, actually, and the blood wasn't exactly running in a torrent, it was just slowly oozing.
Turning around, he used the mirror to check the back side and saw that it was the same. He put fresh gauzes on both of them, stuffed some extra gauzes and whatnot into his pockets, and then went to his closet to get a darker coloured shirt.
He found a brown one and slid it on, then he turned to head back outside and caught a glimpse of a vehicle by the porch with its daytime running lights on. They turned off. A new arrival, it appeared.
Greyson dropped to the floor and slowly army crawled to the kitchen. There were cupboards there to hide behind — or inside if he was a good enough contortionist and didn't rip his side open.
In the kitchen, he looked over at the sliding doors, he could get out there and hopefully find a way to cut back to the cabin; he needed to rest, he'd worked his side too much for one day.
Quickly he scrambled on hands and knees across the floor to the couch, and then under his makeshift table. Arriving at the sliding doors, he slid them open and jumped outside; turning around, he slid them closed.
He then turned and hurried toward the trees. He'd observe what these new arrivals were doing, and then he was going to go and find a way back to the cabin as fast as he possibly could with his wounded side."