Red Rain (Krystal)

[brighteye]

[/i] He had seen a zombie? There was nothing out there; she knew that to be fact. There was only one explanation for it, then. He was hallucinating, a very bad sign. As soon as the doors were barricaded, she would have to work fast to stop the bleeding. This wasn't good, not at all. He was also going into shock - the way he couldn't focus, his confusion and dizziness were all symptoms. She had to stop the bleeding quickly, no matter what. He didn't answer her first question, but she had already figured out the cause because she'd found a bullet in his shoulder. It had bitten deep into his body, and had sliced a major artery. No wonder he was bleeding so profusely. Her forceps and fingers came away bloody, but she had the prize in the form of a bullet. Setting it aside, she wiped her sticky fingers on her skirt before reaching for her stitches and needle.

Quickly threading the thin nylon string through the eye of the needle with expert practice, before setting it on her lap. She had one last thing she needed to do before she could stitch his shoulder, and that was to seal the cut artery. If she didn't, he'd continue to bleed out. From her pack came a small tube of special glue - it sealed quickly and helps wounds heal themselves. She applied some of this to a Q-tip, before carefully reaching into his shoulder to apply it to the damaged artery. After liberally coating the area with the substance, she pulled out and waited impatiently to dry. Krystal had to be absolutely sure it was done before she could stitch up the man.

"Braden." The man managed to gasp out as she sat back. At least she could stop calling him 'the man' in her head now. She had a name. "Alright, Braden. I'm Krystal." She said, hoping he could hear her. Talking, keeping him distracted enough that he wouldn't pass out, was better than keeping him silent at this point. As the glue dried, she pulled some bandages out and pressed them to his arm to staunch the bleeding. She couldn't wrap it without looking at it thoroughly, but she could slow down his blood loss some. She carefully rested a tube of something - she hadn't glanced at it except to make sure it was heavy enough for the job - against the bandages to hold them down, before returning to the shoulder. The glue was dried, and his profuse blood loss would stop with it. Sure, he'd continue to lose blood, but not at the alarming rate that he had been moments before.

"Am... I... g-gonna die?" Braden whispered to her, and she could hear the fear in it, even though it was nearly silent. "No, Braden. I will not let you die." She told him firmly. If he believed he was injured enough to die, he would do so. Losing the faith that he'd survive, or the will to live, would make it nearly impossible for her to save him. "Believe me. You'll make it through this. I promise." If he made her eat her words... she'd be very upset with the man. Her hands lifted the needle and thread and carefully began to stitch his shoulder back together. The skin had to be aligned just so, or it would heal badly. It would definitely scar, it was just that bad of a wound, but it would heal, and that was the important part.

"Do you have a family, Braden?" She asked, trying to get him to talk again, to focus on something other than the pain and death. "A wife? Siblings?" He looked old enough to have a wife, so maybe he was married. Maybe not - she really didn't care one way or another at this point. While she worked, she was trying to think up other questions to ask him, while making sure she didn't slip in the stitches. Carefully she knotted the string, before pulling more skin together and knotting it again. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wound was beginning to close, and with it the blood flow began to ebb.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“Alright, Braden. I'm Krystal.”

The fiery-haired man took a moment to respond, but then he kind of nodded his head, moving it slowly, dazed. Her name… She was telling him her name. Her name was…what was it? Why couldn’t he remember anything? He started to panic again, but then he seemed to calm, closing his eyes and taking a slow breath. He did this a few times, remembering some of his training from his army days. Never panic. It would make your heart beat faster and you’d lose more blood. Oh…wait…her name…it was Krystal. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? It was a name he hadn’t really heard before. He wanted to say something to her, but he didn’t know what. His mind wasn’t really all there. Instead, he forced a weak smile.

“No, Braden. I will not let you die. Believe me. You'll make it through this. I promise.”

She promised that he wouldn’t die. Could she really make that promise? He wasn’t sure… She was a nurse though, so she must know what he was talking about. Maybe there was hope? Or…maybe she was lying to him, trying to make him feel better? He had no way of knowing. He supposed he would just have to believe her. After all, the nurse he’d known before, the one that had saved his life the first time, hadn’t lied to him, and she had said almost those exact words. So, he tried to believe her. He gritted his teeth slightly as she poked at his wound, pressing something against it. He tried not to focus on it though, and instead went back to concentrating on staying awake, keeping his eyes open. He felt so tired… He just wanted to sleep... He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stay conscious.

“Do you have a family, Braden?”

Family… Images of beer bottles crashing to the floor, of his mother screaming, of his father yelling, filled his mind. He saw a fist flying toward his face, remembered the way it felt to be hit, to be punched, to have the breath knocked out of him. He remembered the nights that he’d had to hide in his room and barricade the door to keep his father out. He remembered the days that he’d been forced out of the house, unwanted, unloved. And he remembered what it was like to run away, the feeling of freedom it gave him. It would only last for a few moments, until he was taken back to his house by the police, but those moments were what kept him going. Family. That’s all he knew of family.

“A wife? Siblings?”

The girl’s words were distant, sounding faraway, like there was a wall of glass or something between them. He could hear her though. If he concentrated he could hear her. Now she wanted to know if he had a wife, any brothers and sisters. Thankfully, he’d never had any siblings. Sometimes he had wished he’d had a little sister, someone he could protect, but in the end he was always grateful that he hadn’t been blessed with that. No one needed to go through the hardships he had gone through as a child. As for a wife…he’d never even gotten a chance for that. He’d been drafted into the war the second he’d gotten out of high school. He’d never had a chance to find love. He was alone in this world. That’s how it had always been, and that’s how it would always be. He was born alone and he would die alone.

This girl probably thought that by asking these questions she was giving him a reason to live, making him remember his wife or his kid brother, making him remember that he still had something to live for. She was wrong. All she was doing was reminding him that if he died no one would care. No one would notice. No one would miss him. No one would grieve. His lifeless gaze seemed to sadden slightly as he stared up at the girl. She was doing something with his shoulder, but he couldn’t really feel it anymore… The pain, the loss of blood, it had numbed his whole body, numbed all his senses. “No…” he whispered, voice barely audible. He took a shaky breath, struggling slightly, and then let his eyes close again. “No one.”

[brighteye]

[/i] He managed to get out, as his eyes closed. Okay, keep him awake. What else could she ask? "What's your job? Do you do work for someone?" She asked, as she moved the bandages on his arm to look at it. She had to check this one as well, because there might be a bullet as well. It didn't look like it was deep enough to need stitches, but she had to double check - because first impressions aren't always the right ones. Forceps in her hand once more, she went to going through the broken tissue of his arm carefully. Krystal knew it had to hurt, but she did her best to minimize the pain, moving slowly and watching where she went. There she also found a bullet, not nearly as deep in the wound as the shoulder. This wound was also not nearly as life-threatening as the shoulder.

It did, however, need a few stitches as well. Not as many as the shoulder wound, but it still needed them. So, once more her fingers went to her bag to get a new, more sterile needle, before threading more nylon string into it. She went back to his arm and carefully began to stitch it up as well, working as quickly as she could. The nerve endings were closer to the skin here than they were in the shoulder - this would be much more painful than the shoulder. "Stay with me, Braden. Don't go to sleep, alright? You have to stay awake." She said, not taking her eyes from the arm as she worked dilligently. "How about hobbies? Friends? Come on, talk to me Braden. Stay awake." She said, her tone coaxing. He was weakening with the loss of blood, and he wouldn't want to stay awake. He was going to want to sleep, to give in to what his body was saying to him. She couldn't let him do that.

His arm didn't take long at all, but it had to have pained him. Hopefully the pain would keep him conscious. There was still blood flowing onto the ground sluggishly. He still had another wound somewhere. She quickly located it - he had a wound in the upper thigh. It was the last wound that she had found on his body. "We're almost done, Braden. Hang in there, alright? Last one." Once more she was threading a nylon string into another needle.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“What's your job? Do you do work for someone?”

Braden opened his eyes slightly as the girl spoke again. She was asking a lot of questions, and it was hard for his mind to keep up with them. He took a moment, struggling to form an answer. “Soldier,” he said at last. Wait. No, that wasn’t right... More images flashed through his mind. This time he saw the battlefield. He saw people dying. He had a gun in his hands. He saw the face of his old friend, dead and lifeless. There was a deafening boom. An explosion. It was a grenade. Oh god his arm hurt... “No…” he suddenly said, eyes staring off at nothing, into some world only he could see. “Was.” His words probably made no sense to the girl. Then again, she probably didn’t care. She was just trying to keep his mind going, keep him awake. It did not actually matter what he did for a living, who he worked with. She wanted to bandage his wounds, not hear his life story.

The girl moved her hands down to his arm, seeming to have finished with his shoulder. He didn’t notice until she started to put the stitches in. His pain, which had began to fade into numbness, returned for a moment as a sharp stab shot through his arm. “Ow…” His body twitched slightly at this and a quiet whimper escaped through his lips, but otherwise he didn’t react. He found himself wondering if the wound on his arm had really been a gunshot. It must have been, right? If it wasn’t, if it was a zombie bite, he’d be dead by now. He had seen someone get bitten before, many times, and the transformation took place in a matter of minutes. Zombie victims did not have much time before their conscious minds were taken over by the disease.

“Stay with me, Braden. Don't go to sleep, alright? You have to stay awake.”

“Mm…” He made a quiet grunt in response, letting her know he was still awake. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, repeating this process repeatedly. It was like his days in the military when he had been forced to keep night watch. He would always get so tired, and he would have to fight t o keep his eyes open. He had fallen asleep once. He remembered that clearly. The general had gotten so pissed at him. He’d shouted a lot. Braden could almost hear his voice now as he lie there, energy slowly leaving him. Instead of the emotionless cold voice of the general though, he heard the soft voice of the nurse, the girl who was kneeled right next to him, fighting to save his life. Her words were firm, but there was a gentleness to her voice.

“How about hobbies? Friends? Come on, talk to me Braden. Stay awake.”

He didn’t answer this time. He was too concentrated on keeping his eyes open. He tried to focus on the girl’s face, which was looming just above him. It was hard though, and she kept going in and out of focus. It made him dizzy. He closed his eyes for a few moments. He started to zone out again, but then he quickly woke himself back up, eyes flying open again. All he wanted right now was to be able to close his eyes, give in to the darkness that kept calling to him. It would be so much easier that way. Besides…no one would miss him, no one would care. He was just a nobody, some nameless hero wannabe. He sucked in another breath, holding it for a few moments, and then shakily exhaled. He wondered how long he would last. The only thing that kept him awake was fear, the fear of what would happen if he were to keep his eyes open for too long. Even if he wouldn’t be missed by anyone and his death wouldn’t be mourned, he was still afraid. He didn’t want to die. The thought scared him, made him want to weep.

“We're almost done, Braden. Hang in there, alright? Last one.”

The girl moved down to his leg now. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, he just couldn’t. There was a pressure on his head, as if something was pulling his eyelids closed. It was cold. It was wet. His body ached. He just wanted to be somewhere warm and dry, somewhere safe. He had never really known a place like that though. It had always been a distant fantasy of his. He figured if he hadn’t been able to find it before this insane disease outbreak, there were little chances of finding it now. Such a place no longer existed in this warn torn world. He felt himself slipping away, and forced himself to speak, “Keep talking,” he whispered to her, though his eyes remained closed.

[brighteye]

[/i] He spoke in one word sentences, but he conveyed his message. So, he had been, at one time or another, a soldier, hmm? She wondered what side he had supported - North or South. Not that it would matter. She'd save his life one way or another - it was her job, duty, and obligation to help him. Saving others gave her immense pleasure, actually. Knowing that she had that sort of power made her feel good about herself, since she was uniquely qualified to aid in this foolish war in the best way possible. Even if the soliders she stitched up would be out getting wounds again as soon as they were on their feet, she'd still do it again and again.

As she started to stitch his arm, he twitched and whimpered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She said, comfortingly. "I wish I could stop the pain, but I can't. I'm sorry." The time it would take to set the anesthetics and let them take effect would take too long. She couldn't afford to take that time - he'd lose more blood that he desperately needed. So, she was forced to work on him without. She felt horrible for it, but she'd have made the same decision again and again. A little pain and a life was better than no pain and death. She just hoped that Braden would understand later and would forgive her for causing him such pain.

He didn't respond to her next questions, so she glanced up at his face, worried. She found that his eyes were still open, so she glanced back down to her work. After she finished his arm and covered it with the same stuff as she had the shoulder, she wrapped it, then moved to his leg. The new needle and thread were ready, but she had to ensure there was nothing within the wound. It looked pretty bad, but she wouldn't say that aloud. It would only worry the man, make his heart rate rise and that was unacceptable. That could very well kill him. Instead, she took the forceps and probed the wound, searching for anything that didn't belong. She found a third bullet lodged near his bone and winced in sympathy. That had to have been so very painful for him. "Keep talking." He whispered, and she looked up at him as she set aside the forceps for the last time. His eyes were closed.

"Don't sleep." She commanded. "You might not wake up, understand? Do not go to sleep." What else, besides warnings could she say? He didn't seem strong enough to answer questions. Okay, so she'd just talk about anything, so he'd be able to focus on something. "So you're the first person not to raise cain for my looking so young. I suppose it's 'cause your so badly injured." She started messing with his leg, gently pulling the skin into position before starting to stitch it. Her hands moved dilligently and carefully, while she kept up the flow of words. "My mom's been teaching me stuff since I was eleven, and I kept it up when she died in an attack on a field hospital four years ago. Most people don't like that I got my credentials so young, but I don't care. I know how to save people, and that's all that matters." On and on, as she kept working at his leg, she spoke, keeping a steady stream of words to keep him occupied.

While it looked nasty, the wound wasn't that hard to stitch up. There had been no badly damaged arteries, just tissue damage, which would repair itself, so long as it could keep the necessary blood and plasma there long enough to do so. So, she stitched, and it wasn't long before the hole in his leg was nothing more than a line with sutures all the way up it. Then, this too was coated and wrapped in bandages. The pool of blood was no longer growing, which was a relief to her. The only place left for a wound would have been his back - and she doubted she could have gotten to it in his condition.

"We did it, Braden. Your wounds are stitched up." That didn't necessarily mean he'd survive. That just meant he wasn't going to bleed out any longer. However, if he'd already lost too much blood... Still, she kept her tone cheery and optomistic. There was no need to frighten him or to make him doubt in his survival. The most important part of the battle was will. If he wanted to live, then he had a much better chance of surviving. If not... then he just might not make it. "How are you feeling? Do you hurt anywhere? Thirsty?" She didn't carry food on her, but she did have a bottle of water. She also had pain killers - she wouldn't give him too much since he lost a lot of blood, but she could give him a little bit.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

It hurt a lot when she began poking around at his leg. He bit down on his lip again as she removed the bullet, which had been lodged up against the bone. Again, he could taste blood in his mouth, and he forced his jaw to unclench. If he kept on chomping on his lip like that he was going to need stitches there too, and he thought he’d had quite enough stitches. They were not comfortable to say the least, and in fact they really hurt. Mostly his body was so numb that the pain didn’t register, but every now and then he’d feel a sharp pull or a hard stab.

“Don't sleep. You might not wake up, understand? Do not go to sleep.”

Braden already knew this. It was the only thing that was keeping him awake. It was hard though. It may have sounded pathetic, keeping his eyes open should have been an easy thing to do, but it took so much effort. He felt really dizzy and he couldn’t focus on anything. Everything in his line of vision was blurred, nothing seemed to stay still. He just wanted to shut his eyes, just for a while… But he knew that he couldn’t.

The girl, whatever her name was, started talking to him. Her voice helped keep him conscious as he tried desperately to take in what she said. Something about him not commenting on her age… This made him look more closely at her, or try. It was hard to really see her clearly, as her face just wouldn’t stay still. It didn’t help that he kept seeing two of her. That made it hard to concentrate. Though, from what he could see, he supposed she did look a bit young to be a nurse. He wondered how old she was. Not that it really mattered to him… He didn’t care if she was ten or if she was nineteen. If she could save him, if she could make the pain go away, that was all that really mattered to him right now. The girl also told him something about her mother. He wasn’t able to take it all in, but he understood that her mother had been a nurse, and this is where the girl had learned her skills.

“We did it, Braden. Your wounds are stitched up.”

The girl’s voice sounded cheery. He felt relief wash over him as she spoke. Hopefully this meant the pain would be lessening soon. Now that the bullets were gone and the stitches were finished, maybe things would get better. Or, at least his body might be able to go numb again so he couldn’t feel anything. Either way, he didn’t really care. He just wanted it gone. The pain wasn’t quite as intense as before, but it was still pretty bad. It made him feel like he was going to faint. He didn’t have the energy to speak, but he managed to force a weak smile.

“How are you feeling? Do you hurt anywhere? Thirsty?”

Too many questions at once. Braden tried to concentrate on one of them. “Water,” he rasped after a long hesitation. Now that he thought about it his throat felt really dry. He could barely even swallow. He wondered if she really had water. Water was pretty scarce in this day, and people often had to go a few days without it. Then again, she said she was a nurse, and if this was true then maybe she really did have water. Nurses tended to come from hospitals, and hospitals were better stocked than most places.

As he lied there, his face seemed to pale slightly. The constant pain was a little too much for him. He felt that, even if he didn’t pass out from blood loss, he might pass out from the pain itself. He wished it would go away. He tried to concentrate on keeping his eyes open, on breathing. The intake of air was becoming an effort too, and he needed to remind himself to breath every now and then. He took in slow delayed breaths, chest rising and falling unevenly. “It hurts…” he breathed, fingers digging against the floor, scraping against the wooden surface. He still wasn’t completely convinced that he was going to survive. The girl had fixed him up the best she could, but he wondered if she had gotten to him in time. What if he had lost too much blood already? The thought made his heart beat a little faster, causing him to feel dizzier than before.

[brighteye]

[/i] fall asleep. The body needed to shut down everything that wasn't immediately important to helping Braden live, and staying conscious was not one of those important actions. And since he had to fight his body, it was taking a slight toll on his body's ability to survive. But she had to monitor him, had to make sure he was okay.

"Water." He managed out. So he was thirsty. Okay, she could fix that. Out of her bag came a small bottle of clean water, unlike the stuff that was falling from the sky outside. She scooted over to his head, and saw that he had blood on his chin. Upon closer inspection, she could see he'd bitten through his lip. "Don't bite anymore. I'll put some antibiotics on that." She told him, and then carefully lifted him up a bit - being careful not to jar his shoulder - and propped him up against her so he could drink. "Here." She unscrewed the cap off the bottle and lifted the mouth to his lips. Since he was bloody, and could have any blood-born illness, she wouldn't be able to drink any of this water, as he had blood against his mouth, but that was fine.

She didn't know how long they could stay here. She didn't have food or enough water to last them long. He was in no condition to move right now, and there wasn't any supplies in the City, at least, none that she needed currently. As she waited for him to drink, she pondered their plight. Zombies could be flocking to the alley right now, and could start banging on the door at any minute. When that happened, she definitely would not be opening any doors. Even if she wanted to go out, she was covered in blood. Unless she could defend herself, she was going to be found rather quickly and eaten, and then Braden would be all alone.

"It hurts..." That wasn't unexpected. His body probably couldn't block out the pain from three different wounds, even with the blood loss. "Okay. I'll get something for that." She soothed, carefully grabbing her bag, while still sitting as a prop for the man. She wasn't sure if she could lay him back down without hurting him. If he were more conscious and able to help, she might've tried it, but at this moment? No. Out of the bag she found a syringe and a bottle of anesthetics. Peering at the syringe, she decided how much she could give him of the pain medication. Then, she stuck the needle into the medication, carefully pulling the liquid into the needle. Once it reached the proper amount, she checked it again once she'd sat the bottle aside. She quickly sterilized an area on his arm. "This should be the last thing you feel for awhile, okay?" She told him. Then, she stuck the needle into his arm, gently shooting the liquid pain medicine into his body.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“Don't bite anymore. I'll put some antibiotics on that.”

Braden was confused for a moment, but then he realized that the girl was talking about his lip. He had hardly noticed how deep he had bitten into it. He moistened his lips slightly, face scrunching up as he tasted the blood. The girl gently lifted his head so that he could drink, propping him against her. Luckily, it didn’t stretch his shoulder muscles, so the gesture was near painless. He let himself lean against her, closing his eyes as some of the water poured into his mouth. He swallowed, letting the water run down his throat. It wasn’t cold, but that didn’t really matter right now.

“This should be the last thing you feel for awhile, okay?”

As she spoke, there was a sharp prick in his arm. It only lasted for a moment though, and then it was gone. The small amount of pain the needle caused was nothing in comparison to his wounds, and so it didn’t really bother him. He laid there, putting all his nonexistent energy into breathing. He had never realized how much effort it took before. Usually it was a non-conscious thing, something he wasn’t even aware he was doing. Now, however, he had to focus on it. If he didn’t, he would stop and he wouldn’t be able to get the oxygen he needed. He closed his eyes again, waiting for the pain to go away. He prayed it would be soon. He forced his eyes open again, looking up at the girl. He was still resting against her, which was slightly more comfortable than having his head lying on the hard ground. That…and it made him feel safer somehow.

Slowly, the pain began to fade. Braden wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually the anesthetics started to work, and the throbbing in his shoulder and leg became less and less until it were nearly nonexistent. At first he was relieved. His body felt more relaxed now, muscles less tense. However, in a way, not being able to feel the pain frightened him. He had to keep opening his eyes to make sure he was still alive, and that death had not come to claim him yet. As long as he saw the girl’s face hovering above him, he knew that he had not passed on yet. She had been good to him, risking her life on some random guy she had found on the street. For all she knew he could be some heartless scavenger, who, as soon as he recovered, would kill her and steal her supplies. He was grateful for her kindness, grateful she had seen something in him and gave him a chance. “Thank you…” he whispered.

Braden drifted in and out of consciousness. He tried his hardest to stay awake, but it was hard, especially now that the pain wasn’t there and his body felt more relaxed. For the most part, he was able to keep his eyes open, but every now and then he would zone out and his mind would drift off to another place. For a few seconds, his eyes would close, and he would see images flash in front of his eyes, things he often saw in his dreams, except they were more vivid, and he realized that they were not dreams at all, but memories. He saw things that he would rather not, relived moments he would have forgotten, but his mind wasn’t strong enough to control his thought patterns right now. He saw some of his old soldier friends, men who had died in the war, he saw Jarrett a few times too. Whenever he saw the face of the younger soldier, his body would jerk slightly and he would jolt back into awareness, eyes flying open in fright. He mumbled to himself as he lied there, and it was obvious that he was not fully with the girl. “Sorry…” He repeated that word a lot, and it was unclear who he was talking to. Though, going by the distant look in his eyes, it was someone only he could see.

“Can’t…” he mumbled, voice hardly audible. “Don’t wanna die…” He was trying to speak to the girl now. His eyes were closed again though, so it might have been hard for her to tell. His skin was ghostly pale and cold, and he had broke out in a cold sweat, though that could probably be expected, seeing as he had lost so much blood and was lingering between life and death. “Talk to me.” His words were a quiet breath. His eyes opened for a second, and he glanced up at the girl, but then he closed them again. He needed her to talk so he could concentrate on something, so he could make sure she was still there…

[brighteye]

[/i] on the head - bled the most. Some antibiotics would keep it from infecting. It would heal just fine. Well, that was if he'd stop chomping on it. She understood why he'd done it, but she'd rather he'd have cried out and looked a little less masculine than got some nasty infection in his lip. Because it could get infected, and if that happened then it would get nasty.

He relaxed against her. Since it wasn't his whole body, it wasn't a strain on her. It might not have been the most comfortable position she had been stuck in, but it most certainly wasn't the worst either. It was a little difficult to do things, like pull stuff out of her bag, since she had only one hand, but she managed. It wasn't like there was much she had to do, now that he was stitched up anyway. Well, other than the whole antibiotics thing. So, she tugged open the bag once more and pulled out another small tube and a small hankerchief. Carefully she wiped the already drying blood from his mouth, trying to get as much of it away as possible without any extra pain. She wasn't sure when the painkillers would kick in, so she was being very careful. Then, once it was as clear of blood as it was going to get, she smeared a generous amount of the white goo onto the largish cut.

She absently wished they were against a wall. It would be easier to prop him up, whether or not he was resting against her. That, and having a wall at her back would make her feel safer. Speaking of safer, Krystal pulled out the gun that belonged to the man - Braden - from the hem of her skirt. After she flipped the safety on, she carefully she placed it into the hand of his uninjured hand. She'd have left it as it was, but she didn't want him to accidentally shoot himself - or her. "I didn't think you wanted to lose this." She told him, speaking loud enough that he could hear her, hopefully. It wasn't like it mattered. He couldn't do any harm with the gun, and from the way he'd clung to it earlier, she knew it meant something to him. Hadn't he said he was an ex-soldier. That was probably why.

She could tell he was losing his ability to stay awake, as he continuously drifted off, only to jerk awake. He'd mumble apologies, but he'd say it more times that he jerked against her, so she wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore. He could sleep now, she was sure that he'd be okay, so long as she woke him every hour or so to ensure he was still alive. If he were to stop breathing, or if his heart were to stop beating, she would have to start CPR and compressions, so he needed constant monitering. How she wished they were in a medical facility! She would have to watch him herself, which would be quite tiring. She didn't have anyone to switch off with. If she had to watch him through the night - which she feared she just might have to - it would get very difficult. At the realization that she needed to moniter his heart, her hand went to his good arm, the one with the gun, and she carefully pulled it up to her lap - gun and all - so that she could easily rest her fingers against his inner wrist without needing to stretch herself.

"Cant... Don't wanna die..." His eyes were shut. Was he talking to her? She glanced to his face to see if he was looking at her. Most would be concerned with how he looked - pale and sweating - but she had let it pass. He was badly hurt - the blood had flowed away from his face to more important locations. "Talk to me." He asked, so softly that she almost didn't hear him. He was getting so weak; she wished she had something to help him gain strength! Food would be nice, but she had none of that. They couldn't stay here long - as soon as he could move faster than a snail, they'd have to get out of here. Else, they'd starve to death. Well, he would, since his body was so lacking. She would probably survive a few days, though it would be uncomfortable.

"I told you that you wouldn't die, didn't I?" She chided him gently. "You won't die. You have to believe that." If he didn't believe, he'd be gone. Then she'd have gotten exhausted and bloody for nothing - not to mention the medical supplies she'd have wasted. And then she'd have to get even bloodier as she ensured he didn't turn zombie. No, she did not want that. "Lets see... I have a penguin, would you like to see him?" Her hand fled from his wrist for a moment to grab her stuffed penguin. It had been bloodied before - she had used it to soothe injured children before. It was hell to clean, but it was worth it. She held it with one hand and rested it within the mans sight, so if he chose to look he'd see it. "His name is Mr. Penguin. I've had him since my mother gave him to me when I was ten..." She rambled on about the penguin, having nothing else that she could think of to talk about immediately.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“I didn't think you wanted to lose this.”

The girl’s voice brought him from his thoughts, returned him from his half conscious state of mind. He opened his eyes slowly, glancing up at her, and a moment later he felt something cold rest against his hand. It surprised him at first, but as he slowly closed his fingers around the object, he understood what it was. His gun. His grip tightened, and he held the gun tightly in his hand. “Thanks…” he said quietly, letting his eyes close again. His fingers remained wrapped firmly around the weapon. He didn’t know how the girl had managed to carry it in, he hadn’t seen her take it, but he was grateful she had. It made him feel safer somehow, kind of like a teddy bear would a small child. This gun had been with him through a lot, and he’d had it for years, ever since he’d joined the armed forces.


"I told you that you wouldn't die, didn't I? You won't die. You have to believe that."

Encouraging words. Her voice was gentle. He tried to take peace in what she said. He wouldn’t die…he wouldn’t. Was she just saying that, or did she know it for a fact? He tried to believe her, told himself that she wasn’t lying, but part of him knew the truth; that she was just saying it. If he were to give up, he’d surely die, so it was her job to keep encouraging him, pushing him on, giving him hope. It was hard though, because now that the pain was gone, he had nothing to concentrate on. His eyes kept falling shut, and though he wouldn’t let himself lose full consciousness, he was slowly slipping closer to that state. Luckily, usually this was enough to terrify him back into consciousness. If that didn’t work, then he would usually see a face of one of his dead comrades, and the shock of the sight would wake him up instead. He didn’t care though…as long as he could stay awake.

“Lets see... I have a penguin, would you like to see him?"

The girl started talking. Braden caught a few words she said, and forced his eyelids open again, fighting the haze that kept threatening to claim him. He blinked a few times, trying to focus, and then his gaze rested on a…penguin? It took him a moment, but then he remembered seeing it before. Back outside, that had been one of the first things he had noticed about the girl, that she was carrying a stuffed animal. Braden stared at it for a few moments and the nclosed his eyes again, wondering why she had a thing like that. She looked young but…not that young. Surely she didn’t play with stuffed animals at this age. Then again, there was probably a reason behind it, something he didn’t know. And, just a few seconds later, the girl answered him.


“His name is Mr. Penguin. I've had him since my mother gave him to me when I was ten...”

Just as Braden was starting to drift off again, the girl spoke. Again, her voice called him from his slumber, and he opened his eyes. He should probably say something back…He wasn’t sure what to say though. It was hard to think of a coherent reply in his current state of mind. He offered her a slight smile, forcing the expression onto his face. “He’s cute,” he told her, trying to make his voice audible. He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to think of something else to say. It was harder than it should be. Then again, even if he was fully conscious having a conversation about a stuffed penguin might be a bit difficult. “Do you take him everywhere…?” He managed to get a question out, though his words were a bit slurred together. Braden didn’t want to fall asleep, and so he was attempting to make some sort of conversation with the girl. Now that the pain was gone, talking was slightly easier since he didn’t have to grit his teeth together or bite his lip, which, he realized that sometime while he had been lying here, the girl had put antibiotics on. He could tell because when he ran his tongue over his dry lips there was a strange taste, a bitter one; medicine.

Another reason why Braden was trying to focus so hard on the girl was because it gave his mind something to think about, and he would rather think about that little penguin that she was holding than the other things that kept entering his mind. He would rather see a cute animal than images of war, of people dying. He had heard that before someone dies their life flashed before their eyes… They saw everything they had ever done wrong, were faced with their past choices and decisions, relived the most memorable moments. This thought shook him a bit. Was that was what was happening to him? His grip around the gun tightened, his pulse quickening ever so slightly. “Don’t…let me fall asleep…” He barely managed to say the words, voice breaking at the end. He realized this was probably an impossible favor to ask of the girl. If his body ran out of energy, if it wanted to stop working, it would, it wouldn’t ask her permission. But he was scared...and he didn’t want to let himself give in to sleep yet. He was scared he would never open his eyes again. "Please."

[brighteye]

[/i] She barely heard him - she hadn't been paying attention to if he had been speaking, so lost in thought she had been. She shook her head - lightly so that he wouldn't notice the movement - to clear her head. Her thoughts couldn't stray so far that they drew her away from the here-and-now. She had to pay attention to his life, else he might pay the consequences of her actions, and that was just unacceptable. No one should have to pay for anothers mistake. She'd risked a lot to save him, so she couldn't afford to just let him go now. That would be just plain stupid and useless to the both of them.

So, to distract the both of them, she talked about the stuffed animal she carried always. Krystal rationalized it by telling everyone that she used it for child patients, which was true. Everytime she came across an injured child, she distracted them with the cute penguin, just as she was doing now with Braden. Only, they were animated with the thing - she never really talked about it past that the animal was named Mr. Penguin. She'd never told anyone that her mother had given her the penguin for her tenth birthday. She had adored it because it was cute - there wasn't much that was "cute" left in this world. Because her mother died, the penguin was that much more valuable to her. She found herself prattling on about this to Braden without even realizing it - she was just trying to aid him in his need. She wondered absently if he'd remember any of it.

"He's cute." He said with a smile, which looked difficult for him to manage. She smiled back at him. "Thanks!" Krystal said brightly, happy that he could smile even though it was hard for him. "Do you take him everywhere...?" It took her a moment to understand what he had asked. "Oh! Yes, I take Mr. Penguin everywhere with me. He's my favorite companion." She admitted. It wasn't like it was a secret - those she worked with everyday saw it, as well as anyone she came in contact with regularly. To see her without the penguin was more uncommon than to see her with it. He was, as she said, her companion - she didn't just leave him behind anywhere. He travelled all over with her.

"Don't... let me fall asleep... Please." He murmured to her plaintively as her wave of words lapsed for a few moments as she tried to think of other things to say. She felt his pulse speed up through the fingers placed gently against his wrist. "Shhh, calm down, Braden. If you don't want to sleep, I won't let you, okay?" That meant she'd have to talk constantly at him, to give him something as a focus - maybe poking and prodding him gently when that didn't work. That is, until she knew that he could sleep safely and she could assure him of that. Krystal wouldn't feed him lies, not when his life was at stake. She wasn't completely sure he'd survive if she let him sleep at this moment.

So, she talked. Krystal just started talking about herself - the easiest (and most embarassing, if she'd stopped to think about it) topic there was. Instead of discussing the weather or colors or something else just as meaningless, she picked something she could talk about and elaborate on as she went. Mainly she talked about nursing after her mother passed on, nothing too personal. Work was as impersonal as you could get, and it was about saving the lives of those who were as close - if not closer - to Death than he was.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“Thanks! Oh! Yes, I take Mr. Penguin everywhere with me. He's my favorite companion.”

The girl talked about her stuffed animal for a moment, voice happy. She told him it was her companion. Braden tried to understand this, how a toy could be her companion, but then he supposed maybe it was like he was with his gun. Well, kind of, except the girl’s mother had given her that penguin, so it was probably very special to her. He didn’t really have anything like that. Not that he wanted anything like that anyway. He hadn’t heard from his parents in years. They were probably dead. Unlike most people, however, Braden didn’t care. If he were to one day stumble upon their rotting corpses, he wouldn’t flinch, he wouldn’t shed a single tear. With this image in his mind, thoughts of his mother and father, his weak smile slowly faded. And with it, his eyes fell shut.

As he lied there, he seemed to realize for the first time that the girl had her fingers on his wrist. He wasn’t sure when she had moved his arm, but he figured it had been during one of his short blackouts. He had no idea what she was doing, not taking the time to really think about it. He didn’t care though. There were very few things that he cared about now. Keeping his eyes open and breathing – the second being the more important of the two. He found that if he didn’t concentrate on it his chest would start to hurt, like someone was putting pressure on it, and he would need to remind himself to take a breath, to breathe.


“Shhh, calm down, Braden. If you don't want to sleep, I won't let you, okay?”

She said she wouldn’t let him fall asleep. He gave a soft grunt in response, too weak to really say anything to her. His mind just wouldn’t put the sentences together, his mouth wouldn’t form the words. Braden was afraid that the girl might run out of things to say, but she didn’t. She went on for a long time, telling him about her job, how she was a nurse. Well, that’s what he thought she was talking about anyway. He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but after a while he found it hard to focus. It wasn’t that her story was boring, no, in fact he actually quite liked listening to her. He just didn’t have the energy, the strength, mentally or physically. In the beginning he heard most of what she said, grateful for the small distraction. However, as time dragged on, her speaking slowly started to fade into background noise, and he had to concentrate on the sound of her voice rather than the words she was saying. Even if he wasn’t hearing every word of what she said, he liked listening to the soft lull of her voice. Unlike a lot of people, her voice was nice to listen to, and, in a way, comforted him.

Eventually, Braden wasn’t able to stay awake any longer. His consciousness began to fade without him realizing it, blackness gradually surrounding him. His grip on the gun slowly loosened, and one by one his fingers went limp. The weapon still rested in his hand, though he was no longer gripping it, too weak to hold on. As his eyes closed for the final time, he wondered if he would die right here, die here with this girl. He couldn’t imagine she’d be too happy with him, though…he supposed it was somewhat better than dying alone, his body left out in the muddy streets for the zombies to feast upon. He’d always been scared of that, of dying in some dark alley all by himself. The thought sickened him, and he was suddenly immensely grateful for what this girl had done. He wished he could do something to show how he felt, to thank her, to repay her for her kindness…but he couldn’t. Right now, he was completely useless. He wanted to apologize to her. For what? He wasn’t even sure. For troubling her, for not being able to keep his eyes open any longer, for…dying? He wasn’t dying, right? Or…was he? His lips parted and he mumbled something, though his voice was probably too quiet for the girl to hear. Sorry.

A few seconds later, Braden had lost consciousness. His mind was taken over by darkness, his heartbeat slowed, his breaths slightly more delayed than before. I don’t wanna die… One last thought went through his mind, and then he was plunged into darkness. It was different from before though; this time his eyes remained closed, his mouth remained shut, his mind remained blank. There no images of his past that haunted him, no cries of dying soldiers or booms of explosions. There was only silence.

[brighteye]

[Braden Parker]

His eyes slowly opened. He blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the lighting. Where…was he? His face scrunched up in confusion, features contorting a little fearfully. He didn’t recognize this place. It wasn’t the house he had been using as a safe post. Was he dreaming? He considered this for a moment, still groggy with sleep. No, he couldn’t be… It looked too real.

There was a loud bang from somewhere in the building, and this sent a burst of adrenaline through his body. With a start, he jolted up, feeling a surge of panic rush though him. He had to get out of here. However, as he sat up, he felt a sharp pain stab him in the shoulder and shoot down his arm, down his chest. He gasped at this, stopping in the middle of his motion, the pain forcing him to fall back. What…was that?! The feeling took the breath out of him for a moment, and he laid there for a moment with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Ow.” The sudden movement had not only hurt, but it had made him feel extremely dizzy. The world swam in front of him and he felt lightheaded, like he was going to fall over, which was impossible because he was lying down. For a moment, he thought he might pass out. He fought the feeling though, inhaling a slow and deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. After a few of these he was able to recover a small bit.

He laid there for a few minutes, a blank and rather dazed look on his face. It took a few moments, but gradually the memories started to come back to him. That’s right… Zombies. He’d been running from zombies… And then what? And then he’d…he’d…collapsed. Wait. Why had he been running from the zombies in the first place? He was usually smart enough to avoid the rotting corpses… His face scrunched up again from the effort of trying to remember. It took him a minute, but then he was able to grasp it, pulling the seemingly forgotten information from the depths of his spinning mind. He remembered now. He had been playing the hero again, trying to save some kids. But…they had shot him. They had thought he was a zombie. Well, that explained the pain he felt in his shoulder. A bullet must have hit him there. He was lucky it hadn’t gone any lower or it would have struck him in the chest. If it had hit him there, it could have pierced his heart, meaning instant death, or punctured one of his lungs, which wouldn’t be any better seeing as he’d slowly suffocate, and that sounded a lot more painful.

His first thought, of course, was if he was still alive. All he remembered at first was collapsing outside, falling onto the muddy ground, and now here he was in some strange place he’d never seen before. It was enough to cause him a little alarm. He knew this was probably not the case though, because he could feel pain. Could you feel pain in hell…? He wasn’t sure. For all he knew he might be in the underworld, and any moment now a demon of some sort would come and wake him. His mind processed this thought, but then rejected it. Hell would be dark and gloomy. This room was rather bright and he could see daylight filtering in through the windows. He doubted that a place like Hell would have any sunlight, especially since it was supposedly hundreds of miles under the ground.

As he tried to remember everything that had happened, like how he had gotten here, he suddenly felt extremely tired. He let his body slump, trying to ignore the pain. He could hardly move. He felt…so weak. He had managed to regain a small amount of strength while sleeping, but if he was not careful it would soon be used up. As he laid his head back, he realized that it was not hard ground he was lying against, but something soft…something…warm? Again, he was confused. He took a moment, really focusing his vision, and then lifted his head very slightly, trying not to make any sudden movements. His eyes flickered around, taking in his surroundings. He looked to be in a house of some sort, though it didn’t look like anyone lived inside anymore. He was about to close his eyes again, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, but it was at that moment that his gaze rested on the side of a girl’s face. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was the reason the ground was so soft; he was slumped against her. Recognition very slowly dawned on his face, and seeing her triggered the rest of his memories of the night before. The nurse girl. The one with…the penguin.

Braden was silent for a few moments, but then he decided to test his voice. “Am…I alive?” he asked, voice coming out awkward and quiet, still quite weak. He cleared his throat slightly.

[brighteye]

[/i] He obviously had forgotten that he was hurt. While her arms held him stable so that he wouldn't fall over, her eyes scanned his wounds, making sure the stitches didn't tear with the sudden motion. They were intact. All the knots were in place, with no tears or blood in sight. He was lucky - that violent movement of the body could have caused a serious injury, because the skin that had started to knit together would tear - and he could tear skin that hadn't even been injured in the process.

"Did you hear that too?" she asked absently, relieved that he hadn't ruined the work she'd done on his body. That would have been bad, and exceptionally painful for the man. His body slumped against hers, but it was nothing compared to holding his entire upper body the whole night. He had been silent for a few long moments, so she didn't know what to do. He had been speaking before, so she knew he had the ability to talk. Did he forget what had happened just the night before? The mind protects itself from horror and pain it deems to be bad for the person in which it resides in by blocking the memory. The pain could have put up a block on everything that had happened just the night before. She might be a stranger to him. Her position - supporting him up with her body - was one that could be seen as being too familiar with him, and he could take offense. The gun was still in his hand - she had never moved it. There was no need to. Hopefully he wouldn't shoot first and ask questions of the corpse later - if even he did shoot.

"Am I... alive?" Braden asked slowly, after looking at her for a long moment. She hadn't thought he was going to say anything, so she was actually grateful that he had. Krystal smiled brightly at him. "Yes, Braden. I told you that you would live, didn't I?" She replied cheerfully. Most of it was unfeigned - but there was a part of her wanting to freak out because of the loud bang that had gone off so recently. "How are you feeling? Any pain, weakness?" She knew with certainty there would be pain and weakness - she just wanted to know how bad it was to determine their next move. They couldn't stay here forever - they'd die without food or water. [/ul]