I have a friend that may die because of me.

I live out in the country. Due to classes ending late this year, my friends and I decided to celebrate Memorial Day this weekend instead of last weekend. We had the standard celebration; we fired up the grill, had a couple beers, and shot off some fireworks. The fireworks are where the trouble started. I like to impress people. I have a buddy that runs a fireworks store, so I got him to hook me up with some professional-grade goods so I could put on a real show. It cost me quite a bit, but I was sure it'd be worth it. I set the fireworks up in my field, but I propped up the morter on an old pallet so I wouldn't accidentally ignite the foliage. We've had a drought here for a while now, so fires were a real concern. I had a few buckets of water ready just in case. Fast-forward back to the party. There were 7 of us there. Myself, my girlfriend, and 5 of my friends. For the sake of anonymity (since this story was on the news), let's call them John, Sam, Chris, Bob, and Dan. We'd all been drinking our fair share, and it was getting dark, so I decided to get this show on the road. The morter came in a brick-shaped 36-pod cannister. Upon lighting the fuse, I heard a creak, but I wasn't too worried due to my buzz. The first shot went off and immulinated the sky. My money was well spent. Everything was great. Life was good. Then the second shot went off, and the pallet snapped from the force. The morter turned sideways, and still had 34 shots left. I grabbed a bucket and ran for the morter, and the third shot went off. Immediately, everyone ran. I dumped the bucket on the morter, heard it fizzle and die, then turned around. Everyone was staring at John and screaming. The third shot had hit him square in the chest. He was unconscious, but breathing. Bob and I grabbed Bob's Chevy Tahoe, and Dan, Sam, and Chris loaded him up. We knew that if we called an ambulance, we wouldn't get to the hospital in time. Dan kept applying pressure to the wound while I drove and Bob gave me directions. After about 10 minutes, I asked Bob how much further we had to go. He looked at Dan, then John, then me, and said "Woah, we're half-way there." Dan, panicked, then said "Woah, he's living on a prayer."