shot in leg

I threw back my right arm, hauling Anna Valmont behind me, and lifted my left arm, along with my will, snapping out, “Defendarius!”
Something tugged hard at my lower leg, and then my will congealed into a barrier of solid force between us and the shooter. Bullets struck it, sending up flashes of light as they did, revealing it as a half-dome shape with very ragged edges. The impact of each hit was visceral, felt all the way through my body, like the beat of a big drum in a too-loud nightclub. Heavy rounds like that were specifically designed to hit hard and penetrate cover. They could kill a soldier on the other side of a thick tree, chew apart a man in body armor, and reduce concrete walls to powder and rubble.

Skin Game Chapter 10, Page 68-69


“Murph,” I said. “Did they get out?”
“They’re waiting.” Her eyes flickered with distress as they swept over me. “Jesus, Harry. Are you all right?”
“Aches a bit. Stings a bit. ’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” she said, hurrying closer. “Your leg. Hold still.” She knelt down and I suddenly realized that she was right—my leg was bleeding, the leg of my pants soaked, blood dripping from the hem of my pants leg and onto my rented shoes. She rolled the bloodied cloth up briskly.
“You’ve been shot,” she said.
I blinked. “Uh, what? I don’t feel shot. Are you sure?”
“There’s a hole right through the outside of your calf,” she said. “Little on both sides. Christ, they must have been close.”
“M240,” I said. “From maybe thirty feet.”
“You got lucky—it missed the bone and didn’t tumble.” She pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and said, “This is what Butters warned you about. Not being able to sense your own injuries. I’ve got to tie this off until we can get it taken care of. Brace.”
Her shoulders twisted as she knotted the cloth around my calf and jerked it tight. That tingled and stung a little, but it didn’t hurt any more than that. I suddenly realized that Winter was sighing through me like an icy wind, dulling the pain.

Skin Game Chapter 11, Page 76