Red Rain (Krystal)

[Braden Parker]

“Did you hear that too?”

Braden blinked a few times, eyes still adjusting to the bright light. It wasn’t really all that blinding, it was just that his vision had grown more accustomed to the darkness. He could hear the girl’s voice nearby, just above him. “I…uh…yeah,” he responded, stumbling over his words. Well, he thought he had heard something anyway… He vaguely remembered a loud noise rousing him from his sleep, being the cause of his now conscious mind. He had been unsure, however, if it was a figment of his imagination, something from the dream world, or if it was real. He supposed the girl asking made it real enough, so he must have actually heard it. He hadn’t had much time to concentrate on the loud noise though, because as soon as he had tried to sit up he’d found himself in a great deal of pain, and that had been enough to distract him from whatever the noise had been. For the moment, it was forgotten.

“Yes, Braden. I told you that you would live, didn't I?"”

Braden did remember her. He didn’t remember every single moment of his time with her, but he did remember that she was the one who had saved him, and that was probably the most important thing. He remembered the girl helping him back to the building, and then trying to stitch him up. He also had flashes of her talking to him while he writhed around in pain. He couldn’t remember exactly what she had told him, but he remembered her talking. Her voice had been the last thing he’d heard before he had blacked out. Unfortunately, her name seemed to escape him. Obviously, they must have introduced themselves, because the girl seemed to know his name. Well, that was embarrassing. Why couldn’t he remember it…? He tried to think, straining his mind, but his brain wouldn’t give it to him. Now that he thought about it, the only thing he could really remember her talking about was a penguin. He’d…have to apologize for that later.

He looked up at her for a moment, eyes studying what he could see of her face, and then back down again. He still felt a little dizzy, and he wasn’t sure if it’s because he had sat up so fast or if it was a side effect of blood loss. He could have asked the nurse girl, she’d probably know, but he didn’t. He felt pathetic enough already. He was never the one who needed help. He was the one who gave the help, assisted others. It was…embarrassing that he had been the one who’d needed rescuing. If he could be thinking thoughts like this, it was a good sign, because at least that meant he was feeling slightly more like himself. He wasn’t able to move much, but he seemed to have gained a tiny bit of his spirit back. His long rest had probably helped that. Even if his body was weak and broken his mind was active.

“ How are you feeling? Any pain, weakness?”

“Kinda…dizzy…” The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been the day before. Of course, that was only natural, seeing as the wounds had at least been given a chance to start to seal up. They’d still hurt for a few days more, maybe a week, but they wouldn’t be nearly as bad. Today they were still quite tender though, and moving didn’t feel great. Even just sitting there hurt. “I’m…” He trailed off, unsure of how to answer. Before he got a chance to think it over, there was a loud thud. The noise was loud and close by, coming from somewhere in the building, from one of the other rooms. The sound echoed down the hallway, making Braden tense. Reflexively, his fingers tightened around his gun, which he was slightly surprised to find in his hand. He had forgotten that he had it. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to fire it, seeing as it was his right shoulder that had been injured, and the force would probably hurt, but if he had to…he would. He tried to lift his arm that was holding the gun, but he didn’t get it up very far. His body was still pretty weak, and the gun, which he could usually lift easily, suddenly felt extremely heavy. “Something’s there…” he said, voice faint, nodding to the hallway.

[brighteye]

[/i] whatever in the world was out in the building. Yes, that would have been the worst. She really hoped it was just some scavenger who entered their building on pure, random chance. That would be nice - even if they tried to attack them. At least they were human - living, breathing, humans that ate vegetables and meat that wasn't human flesh. Zombies, on the other hand, weren't living or breathing, and they didn't eat vegetables. However, they did eat meat - human flesh. All of those - well, except maybe the vegetables thing - were reasons to not like zombies.

It would help if she could protect herself. There never seemed to be time, though, to go learn how to weild a gun. There were always patients to tend to, and then there were these jaunts into the City to search for medicial supplies. Between those two, and keeping herself healthy, she had enough work and stress on her young shoulders for three people twice her age. If there weren't so few reliable nurses, it would be better. When the new zombie disease struck, a lot of people died and were infected because the disease was unknown. Many of those infected were medical staff, because they were recognized as ill, but the illness was unfamiliar. And so, there went doctors and nurses. Now they had to take all the hands they could get - even her young hands. She knew more than others her age, but she had been lacking experience until recently. Now she could do just about anything short of actual surgery in the field - and she could preform surgery if she absolutely had to, and had others with her to help if she slipped up, since she'd only done it in practice.

But that was neither here nor there.

The red-head looked down at her, and she could see his eyes struggling to focus on her. He didn't admit the weakness though - and she didn't push. If he wanted to tough it out, she'd let him - but only to an extent. If it threatened his life, she'd get it out of him one way or another. Then he answered her question. "Kinda... dizzy... I'm..." Dizziness made sense in relation to being unable to focus. So he did admit it - that was good. But no pain or weakness? Either he didn't care to share, or something was dreadfully wrong with his body. She hoped he was just omitting the "tiny" detail of his being in pain. She opened her mouth to ask about it, when there was another noise. This time it was a thud, and it was closer. Despite herself, she squeaked in fear, her fingers clenching around the mans arm before quickly releasing it - hoping she hadn't caused any pain in her bout of fear as she feverently prayed that zombies weren't out to get them.

"Something's there..." he said, unnecessarily. He held his gun in his hand, but it didn't seem he could raise it very high. That wasn't good for either of them. She could tell her eyes were wide as she looked from his gun to the door that stood between them and whatever it was that was in the building, forcing herself to relax. She couldn't be freaking out - whatever it was wasn't in here with them. If a zombie was in here gnawing on her or Braden she could be afraid, but that hadn't happened yet. She had to calm down. "Y-Yeah." She agreed. "Wha-What do we do?" Krystal cursed the stammer that made her fear so much more obvious than it already was.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

The girl let out a small squeaking sound. She jumped a little and, to Braden’s surprise, grabbed onto his arm. The gesture caught him a little off guard, as he hadn’t been expecting it, and he looked at her with surprise. Luckily, it didn’t hurt because it was his good arm, the one that wasn’t injured. If it had been his other one, now that would have hurt, and he probably wouldn’t have been as nice about it. He watched her, or tried. His vision was still a little out of focus, but he could see most of what was going on. The girl seemed to realize what she had done, because a few moments later she released him. She was scared… Not that Braden blamed her at all. He was scared too, because if it was a zombie that was lurking around the corner, he didn’t know what they were going to do. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to fire his gun or not. If it came to it, he would try, hell he would try, but with his unsteady body and unfocused vision he couldn’t see how his shot would actually hit. He’d have to be pretty damn lucky.

“Y-Yeah. Wha-What do we do?”

Braden didn’t know what to say, how to answer her question. He tried to get a better grip on the gun, tightening his fingers. He could lift it…he knew he could. He’d done it so many times before! He’d always been able to carry it. His eyebrows knit together, and he was clearly frustrated at his lack of strength. His body, while a little better than yesterday, was still incredibly weak. It had managed to produce more blood by now, but probably not the same amount that he had lost. Sleep had helped slightly, recovering a small amount of strength. He could talk easier now, make small movements, whereas hours ago all he had been able to do was lie there, nothing but a dead weight. “It’s okay…” he told her quietly, trying to make his quiet voice sound at least somewhat reassuring.

In the girl’s words, there had been fear, and that fear seemed to give the injured soldier a little more strength. This is what he did…he protected people. He was probably going to do a crap job at it, but he would rather die trying than just sit there and let himself be eaten by some rotting human corpse. He had to protect the girl…she was only in this situation because of him. Slowly, he tried taking some of his weight off her, carefully easing himself into a sitting position. He grimaced as he straightened, pain flashing across his face for a second. He tried to ignore it though, telling himself it could be worse. Now that he was sitting straight, he tried to move the gun again. It put a great deal of strain on his arm, but with some effort he was able to drag it toward him. He knew it would be impossible to lift it, or even fire it, with one hand. He’d have to use his other arm too, which would be kind of painful to say the least.

Braden watched the entrance to the hallway, trying hard to focus. His vision danced through, and concentrating was difficult. He prayed that it would be some stray animal that was making all the noise, some stupid dog that had gotten locked in the house. You know, like in those movies where the rabbit jumps out of the bushes, scaring everyone witless because they thought it was the big bad wolf. Unfortunately, that was not what happened. It wasn’t a stray dog or cat that came wandering from the dark depths of the passageway. It was a person. Braden held his breath, praying they wouldn’t be diseased, that they would just be a normal living breathing human being… Of course, knowing the way the world worked, the creature standing in the door was drooling at the mouth and growling.

There was no time now. Braden forced himself to lift the gun. It was so heavy… It hurt to hold it up. His hands felt like jello, weak, unsteady. He was going to drop it. He tightened his grip on the weapon, wincing as he rested it against his shoulder. This was an incredibly stupid thing to do… If he fired it, the force from the blow was going to hurt like hell. He shouldn’t be thinking of himself right now though. If he didn’t shoot it… Well, he didn’t want to think about that. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself onto his knees. He was quickly reminded of his leg injury, but he had no choice but to ignore it, and he went to pull the trigger. When nothing happened, it didn’t take him long to realize what was wrong with it. He cursed quietly under his breath, arms shaking as he tried to hold the weapon up while searching for the safety switch. By the time he had found that, the creature had already begun to wander toward them. It had probably heard the girl screaming…

Once the safety had been turned off, Braden turned back toward the zombie. He tried to aim…but…it was difficult. His arms could barely support the weapon and it kept shaking, moving. And his dizziness didn’t help anything either… Still though, he couldn’t just sit there. Doing his best to aim, he fired the gun, being thrust back from the force. The bullet cut through the air, and while it came somewhat close to its target, it did not actually manage to hit.

[brighteye]

[/b] She mumbled, averting her eyes for a moment. Krystal was familiar and able to deal with every emotion effectively, except embarassment and sorrow. She just plain didn't like to feel embarassed - even if there really was no reason like now (because really, who in their right mind wouldn't be scared of the zombies?) - and sorrow crippled her. After a long moment, she felt a little more comfortable with herself and glanced back up.

Since her eyes were sweeping upwards from the ground, she spotted his hand closing on the gun again. There was no way he could lift that up to shoot it*; he wasn't physically fit. "It's okay..." Her eyes went from his hand up to his face, startled. She'd known he'd seen her fear, but she didn't think he'd try to comfort her in it. However, he seemed to be frustrated with his arm - it wasn't lifting the gun. As she'd figured, it was probably too heavy for him to use. Even if he hadn't needed stitches, he'd bled out too much. Without the blood to carry oxygen, water, and all the other good stuff muscles, organs, and the like needed, the body would weaken. This was a natural side effect, one that she knew would hurt him, which was why she had prayed nothing would come out.

She was surprised when he started to lift away from her, sitting up. She didn't know what to do to help him - he seemed determined to do this. In the end, she sat back and let him get up - she figured she would do more harm than good by trying to help him up. She could get in the way, or knock him down - the list really could go on and on. Krystal was really good at determining the negative effects of her actions - though she could spot a good one or two when necessary. It was best to be ready for the worst, so you could always be pleasantly surprised if the worst didn't occur. At least, when a life wasn't involved. Then it was always best to pray for the life, because no one wanted to pray for death.

Her eyes were on him, almost fascinated. She couldn't figure out how he'd lifted the gun up to his shoulder. He should have been too weak to do such a feat. However, her eyes were long on him, because a growling noise caught her attention. Her whole body locked rigid - she didn't want to turn and see what was making the noise. Krystal prayed as feverently as she could in the span of half a second that the growling was from a wild dog. However, as she turned her head to look, she already knew what it was. Her worst fear for this scene - a zombie. It was drooling and had the same hungry, unintelligent look every other zombie had. Then a shot rang through the air, breaking her paralysis. She scrambled backwards, away from the monster and behind the man who had fired the shot. Sure, she really shouldn't hide behind an injured man - but he could use a gun where she couldn't.

In her shift backwards, she had done two things. One - she had hit her hip on something hard, when she hadn't hit the ground. It was only then that she realized that she had a lighter gun than the one Braden was now holding onto. Quickly, she unholstered it and fumbled with the safety for a long moment. "I-I have a pistol. If... If you'd rather..?" She didn't want to intrude on his thing with his gun - she had seen how possessive of it he was. But, on the other hand, she didn't want to die because he couldn't use it. She couldn't use the pistol in her hand or the rifle he had, so she really didn't know what to say. Sure, she knew that if she pulled the trigger, the gun would go boom and dangerous stuff came out the other end. She'd probably aim wide or at the ground, or at something not the target, while thinking she was, and lose all her bullets. That'd be useless.

The second thing she had done was draw more attention to herself. She had controlled herself not to make a noise, though the gunshot probably would have masked it anyway. In her flight away from the danger, it had gotten its hungry, beady eyes on her. She wasn't a threat: she was frail and pretty much helpless against the zombie. Hence her hiding behind Braden - but that hadn't been the best idea, it seemed.

(( *Just like there was no way she could hide in in a skirt >.> XD Man. ))[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

The gun fired off a few bullets, none hitting the target. One came close, grazing the creature’s arm, but none actually struck. As the shots went off, he saw the girl moving behind him, cowering. “It’s just one…” he told her weakly. It had been meant to reassure her, but he knew his words probably had no effect on her at all. Right now it was just one…but zombies had friends. If they made a lot of noise, it would attract others, and they could easily be surrounded. That was one dangerous thing about buildings. You could get trapped in them. Braden always found it more comforting to stay upstairs off the ground floor. That way there were windows, you could dive out onto the roof. The zombies weren’t graceful, and they couldn’t climb very well. The roof was one of the safest places.

The girl was probably surprised at his sudden movement. He shouldn’t be able to lift a gun like this. That was one thing his military training had been good for though. It had taught him the will to fight, made his spirit stronger after breaking it down. He was tough, not that easy to get down. He hated this, not being able to work to his full potential. If he could, if he could actually focus, if he could actually hold the gun properly, then he might be able to protect this girl. That’s what he wanted to do, that’s what he was supposed to do. He protected people. He especially wanted to make sure she was safe. If she died, it would be his fault. She had stopped for him. If she had left him, just kept walking, she wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

The recoil was enough to make him cry out in pain, slamming against his shoulder. However, it didn’t have enough force to actually knock him over, and he remained weakly crouched oh his knees. As the bullets stopped firing, he felt the weapon slipping from his hands, falling. It hit the ground with a clatter, and he was left defenseless. He bit down on his lip, fresh pain shooting through his body. That was stupid. He shouldn’t have done it. He knew this is what would happen… None of the bullets even hit the zombie. How pathetic. He was useless like this. But…this was his job; to protect people. He had to try. Again, his hands reached down for the weapon, a few drops of blood dripping to the ground as he did so. He was breathing slightly harder now. His body had not been ready for the sudden pain. His fingers brushed the steel of the gun, but before he had a chance to try and lift it, the girl’s voice interrupted him.

“I-I have a pistol. If... If you'd rather..?”

Her voice came from behind him. She was holding something in her hand, another gun, one that was much smaller than his own. Braden looked at it for a moment, but then turned his gaze away. He reached down for his gun again, leaning over as he tried to pick it up. It felt heavier than before and the movement strained his shoulder, which probably now had a ripped stitch or two. Not that it mattered that much right now. If he had to rip a few stitches to live, to protect this girl that had tried to save his life, that’s just what he’d do. He started lifting his weapon, straining his arms, but then he just let it fall to the floor again. No, he was being stupid. He turned to the girl behind him, eyes trying to focus on the thing she was holding in her hands. It was smaller, and it would be easier to hold, therefore the chance of him being able to hit the zombie with a bullet was higher. He had to hurry too. His gun had made a lot of noise, and noise was what attracted the corpses. They might have crap vision, but their hearing was fine. Give it another ten minutes and they’d be swarming the building, walking around with drool hanging out of their mouths, covered in blood.

“Give it to me,” Braden commanded between gritted teeth, reaching out an unsteady hand to the girl. He didn’t know why she wasn’t using it, shooting it herself, but he figured she wasn’t skilled in that area. She didn’t look like the type that got involved in combat very often. Her aim was probably awful. Though…in his current state, Braden wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it any better than she would. He kept his hand outstretched, waiting anxiously.

[brighteye]

[/i] She understood that, in the small, rational part of her brain that had been shoved aside for the more irrational, fearful mass of the rest of her brain came to the front and foremost, rendering her helpless. If it were dead she could deal with it - only when it was "alive" and moving did it freak her out. Mainly because it could eat her flesh, and at one point it was a human just like her. Oh, and that little thing about turning into a zombie herself if she were bitten. Yeah. It was a reasonable thing to fear, when all was said and done.

Braden cried out in pain as he fired the gun. Well, no wonder. It was a freaking big weapon, and he was firing it while it was pressed against his shoulder. As soon as this was over, she'd have to check his shoulder and make sure he wouldn't start bleeding again. Hopefully he didn't break open the artery that she'd sealed... that would be very, very bad indeed. Then, the gun fell from his hands, landing on the ground with a loud noise. At least it didn't go off like the guns in the movies. With the luck they seemed to be having, it probably would have hit one of them, and that would just be terrible. What was worse the fact that the zombie was still moving towards the two of them unhindered and uninjured. He'd done nothing to stop it.

This wasn't to say she blamed him. She was amazed he even lifted the gun to begin with. It wasn't his fault she couldn't shoot a gun and hit the broad side of a barn. If she had any remote chance of stopping the zombie, or even hitting it for that matter, she'd have flipped off the safety and had at it. But no, she was definitely not suited to the fighting arts. That was why she should walk around the City with an escort and not deny them their right to guard her. Still, she was stubborn - she didn't want a stranger following her around the City. He might get himself killed trying to protect her.

He glanced back at her as she offered the pistol, before turning away to his gun again. She had realized he was stubborn by the way he'd refused to yell in pain or ask for help, so she expected him to go back to his gun, the one that had been like a comfort item to him. He attempted to lift the weapon again, but not even half way up he dropped it again, letting it land in a loud clatter once more. Then, he was facing her once more, looking at her hands where the pistol was. Before he even said "Give it to me," she was offering the weapon to him once more. Carefully she placed the gun in his hand, ensuring the safety was off already.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she let him hold the gun on his own. "I'm useless. Sorry." And she accepted this fact about herself - but she knew this fact might also get her killed if she wasn't careful. Being useless out and about like this - her only strength was the ability to save peoples lives through sheer willpower and medical knowledge and to keep her head in a crisis that didn't involve zombies. Once zombies - the ones that moved around and ate people, not the nice dead ones filled with bullets - entered the picture she was a useless sack of skin and bones.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

"Sorry. I'm useless. Sorry."

The girl mumbled as she held out the gun to him. Useless? No, she was not useless. If she was useless, he would most likely be dead right now. Maybe she wasn't that great at handling a weapon, but that certainly did not make her useless. "No," he told her. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but then stopped himself, realizing that now wasn't the time to thank her, to tell her how useful she really was. Later, after the zombie was gone, that would be the time. "You're...not," he added, though his voice was quieter this time, the words somewhat softer spoken. The pain was making speech harder though, and he decided to shut up and save his energy for firing the gun she was holding out to him.

Braden took the pistol from the girl, fingers tightening around it. He slowly lifted it. This smaller weapon was much easier to lift, as it did not put as much strain on his arm, nor take as much effort. He turned quickly, ignoring the sharp twinge in his shoulder, and aimed the weapon. His hands were unsteady, and handling the gun was still a little difficult. The creature was getting closer though, and there was not enough time to spend on aiming. He was just going to have to start firing and hope that one of the bullets struck its target. He hated to waste such valuable items, as bullets could be hard to restock on, but he did not see much of a choice right now. He took a breath, raising the weapon a little higher, and then he fired off a shot.

The first missed. He cringed, wondering how many bullets were loaded in the gun. Braden shot at the zombie a few times, before having to lower his arm. The girl thought she was useless? Well, he seemed to be just as useless as she was right now. He couldn't even hit it once! The thought embarrassed him, made him want to do stupid things, but he took a deep breath and regained control of himself. At the last possible moment, when the drooling corpse was stood only steps away from them, he jerked the gun up again, reflexes surprisingly fast, and fired one last shot. This one hit, and, amazingly enough, it impaled the dead body right in the head.

Braden watched as the zombie swayed on its feet for a moment, before falling forward. He scrambled back, wincing, and just barely managed to avoid it landing on him. Despite the fact that he was a soldier, he didn't like the sight of blood. It made him feel slightly sick when he saw it, and sometimes he wondered how he had ever made it as a member of the military, a place where people got their hands smothered in blood every day.

Now that the zombie was gone, Braden gave his arm a rest, letting the gun fall from his hand. It landed against the floor, clattering loudly against the wooden surface. A huge sigh left his lips and relief washed over him. That had been close, a little too close for his liking. He knew that more disgusting zombies would probably be coming now, the gunshots ands cent of blood calling them like hungry sharks, but he still took a moment to celebrate the small victory. He was just glad that he had been able to protect her, the girl. If he hadn't... Well, he would rather not think about that. He hated not being able to save people, and it would be even worse if her death had been his fault in the first place.

Now that the current danger had passed, the effect of his adrenaline began to wear off. He fell forward slightly, catching himself just before he smashed into the ground, kneeling there awkwardly on his hands and knees. He stared down at the floor, vision swimming. His eyes rested on something red and his hazel irises widened. Blood. At first he thought it was from the zombie, but after a few moments of staring at it, he realized that it belonged to him. When he had fired his gun, it had slammed back into his shoulder - hard. As he watched, he could see more of the liquid dripping onto the floor. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch. "You...okay?" he asked the girl, voice tight with pain. Despite the fact that he was the one bleeding, he still had to make sure she was doing all right, because, after all, her life was more important than his.

[brighteye]

[/i] He replied to her apologies about being useless. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he turned away to face the zombie. Of course she was useless - at least in this situation. If she were at least somewhat adequate with a firearm, she could get rid of the monster that was in the room and could look after him. He'd probably hurt himself, what with the way he cried out like that before. It was the first time he'd done so, and as such, she figured he'd injured himself.

She jumped as gunshots filled the air again. It was loud at such a close proximity, but she didn't move further away. If - and when, she firmly told herself - he killed this monster, she'd need to be close at hand to deal with the repurcussions of his using the bigger weapon, the one that he'd hurt himself using. It wasn't as if he'd bleed to death if she were one second slower because she was a couple steps away, but she wanted to be able to soothe the pain as quickly as possible. She herself didn't like pain, so she tried to keep others from it as much as possible.

The bullets missed. All however many he had shot - she hadn't counted. The sound of shots being fired had melded together to one solid ringy noise in her ears. She hadn't been around a lot of areas where guns would be fired, so her ears weren't used to the sounds that came with it. She saw more than heard the last shot that took down the monster, its head exploding backwards and away from the two of them. However, the same could not be said for the body, which toppled forward. As Braden moved backwards, Krystal had to move quickly out of the way so that he could do so, nearly falling over herself in the process.

When she turned back, she saw blood on the floor. Yes, there was some from the zombie, but she could see that some was from Braden as well. He'd ripped the stitches, more likely than not. That glue she'd put around the artery should withstand whatever he did to it until it healed up and disintegrated harmlessly into his body. So, she reached for her pack, only to find it was a few feet away from her where it had been flung when the zombie had entered. "You... okay?" Her hearing had returned enough for her to hear his words. As she grabbed her pack, she turned back to look at him.

"I'm fine. Let me see your shoulder, okay?" She said, moving around him, carefully avoiding the body. This meant she had to lean over him from the opposite side, but she really hoped he wouldn't mind. She didn't want to treat him next to the zombie. That would just be creepy. Her eyes found the tears in the skin that had barely started to knit itself together and she sighed. "You shouldn't have put it against this shoulder. Now I have to restitch that area." However, she wasn't sure that she had time. She knew that zombies had pretty good hearing - would the come to the gunshots. Instead, she opted for a quicker solution, one that would buy her time to work on the wound.

"Let me just bandage it for now, then we can figure out what to do about that thing, 'kay?" Out came some gauze, which she made into a quick pad, before tape came out from another area of the bag. "Hold still for a minute." She quickly wiped away excess blood with a spare piece of cloth, before quickly pressing the pad against him with one hand, taping it down with the other. A few minutes later, the pad was secured awkwardly against his shoulder. "There."[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“You shouldn't have put it against this shoulder. Now I have to restitch that area.”

“Sorry,” Braden breathed. He knew it had been a stupid and reckless thing to do, but in a world like this sometimes it was the stupid and reckless things that saved your life. Not that his firing the gun had helped anything...actually, it had probably made the situation worse. He had meant well though. If he had only been able to aim better… He tried to stop thinking about it, knowing that all the ‘if onlys’ in the world wouldn’t change a thing. He had to start thinking about what to do now. Going outside would be stupid, something that would probably get them killed. He couldn’t move that fast, and if any zombies appeared that would cause trouble. If they waited a few hours, waiting for silence to settle back in, then they could leave. Right now, however, they needed to get somewhere safe, because zombies would soon be flocking to the sound. He doubted they would venture anywhere past the first floor though, as they were not the smartest creatures on the decaying planet.

“Let me just bandage it for now, then we can figure out what to do about that thing, 'kay?”

He was brought out of his thoughts as the girl began to dab at the sound, placing a new makeshift bandage over it. He winced a little, but otherwise held still, letting her do her work. He didn’t like the thought of having more stitches. The first time he had been nearly unconscious, already in so much pain that a few stitches hadn’t even bothered him. Now, however, he was fully awake, a little groggy, but still awake, and he had a feeling he would feel those stitches more than the first time. He supposed it was his own fault though…for trying to be stupid and shoot his gun. Then again, he hadn’t known that the girl had a weapon of her own on hand when he had first tried to shoot it. He considered his for a moment, but then sighed. Nah… That wouldn’t have mattered. Knowing him, he would’ve still tried and fired his own gun first. Reckless.

Braden pushed himself to his feet, energy coming from the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins. He got up too fast, stumbling, nearly collapsing back to the floor. He caught himself though, and rather than falling flat on his face, he slowly lowered himself back to his knees. He made a muffled whimper, quickly clamping his mouth shut to cut off the noise, as he was reminded of the wound on his leg. That was one was deep, as the bullet had torn through the muscle and lodged itself right by the bone. He held his breath for a moment, grinding his teeth together, but then turned and motioned for the girl. “We need to get upstairs,” he explained to her. “Going outside would be foolish… So… We need to… We need to get upstairs...” Without waiting for her response, without explaining any farther, he motioned for her to come to him. “Help me up.” He didn’t like asking for help, but he realized that he did not have much of a choice in this case. He didn’t think he would be able to walk on his own. He probably wouldn’t need to lean on her quite as much as he had before, as he had a small amount of his strength back, but he did need a support.

Braden looked around now, trying to see what was around him. His vision still was a little blurry, but he could make out what everything was. It looked like they had stumbled into a normal house, it was a deserted house, one that's furniture and goods had long ago been taken out, but it was a house all the same. From the outside, it was obvious it was a two-story building, so there must be stairs somewhere. His brown eyes scanned the room, and finally rested on a set of stairs on the opposite side. If they could make it up those, lock themselves in a room, barricade the door, they would be probably be safe. "There," he forced out, nodding to the stairs. That was really all he needed to say for her to understand. If she had questions, he would answer those later.

[brighteye]

[/i] part of the job, but it was still there none-the-less. If causing pain ended up, in the long run, relieving it, she could deal with that. She wasn't doing it because she liked to torture people, no. Krystal hated to see people in pain. She could never be sadistically twisted like that. She shook her head lightly to clear her head. If she let herself continue to wool-gather, there would be more zombies here, and then they really would be eaten, and that wasn't something she'd like to have happen. She liked not being eaten, thanks all the same.

She moved out of his way as he tried to shove himself up onto his own two feet by himself. While she watched him, she put the extra tape and gauze away into her bag by feel alone. She had pretty much memorized the interior of the bag, so it wasn't hard. Then she scrambled to grab the her gun, the one he discarded, tucking it as well into the pack. She could move it later, but it was the easiest place to put it. After tugging the backpack back into place, she hooked Mr. Penguin back onto her belt from where she'd removed him. There was no way she was losing him in the City - he was her favorite, childish as that may be. Whatever. He had kept her company - as much company as a stuffed doll could keep a sane person, anyway - throughout the long night she'd spent watching over Braden. When she looked back to said man, she saw he had nearly fallen on his face, but was now moving to his knees with a muffled whimper.

It was the whimper that did it - she moved to his side quickly. "We need to get upstairs." He said as she knelt next to him. "Going outside would be foolish... So... We need to... We need to get upstairs..." Okay, that was reasonable. She glanced back at his gun. She had no idea how she managed to get it into the building the first time, and she didn't know how she was going to traverse stairs with the giant thing and help the man up the stairs. If it was feasable, she could always come back down for it. Meaning, there was no zombies downstairs when she went to go get it.

"Help me up." He asked her. She nodded. "Okay." With that, she helped lift him up onto his two feet. It was much easier than it had been before, out in the alley and the rain. He had more strength now that he'd had time for the blood to regenerate by itself. He was lucky - not many could survive such wounds without a blood transfusion. He looked around as she steadied him, before glancing around for stairs. They found them at nearly the same time - he noticed them just an instant before her. "There." He nodded at the stairs. Alright, now the challenge was to get up them.

She helped him to the stairs, finding it easier to do than before, when they were out in the rain. "Please don't fall." she mumbled softly, not really meaning for him to hear it. That would be just their luck to take a tumble down the stairs. With some trepidation, Krystal helped Braden up the first stair, hoping that this wouldn't end badly.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

With the girl’s help, Braden was able to get back onto his feet. His body was still weak, and his legs were shaky, but he was able to stay up this time. Because he was more awake, more conscious this time, he was able to avoid crushing her like he had before. As they moved across the room he was careful not to put too much weight on her, but just enough to support himself. He was still leaning against her pretty heavily, but not as badly as before. He was afraid that if he put too much weight on her she might topple over, and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. If he landed on her, which he probably would, he would hurt her because he was so much bigger. Not to mention the sudden movement would probably tear open some of the stitches.

“Please don't fall.”

Braden heard the girl mumble something under her breath, voice quiet as she prayed for him not to fall. “I won’t,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the girl or himself. They had reached the stairs now, and she was trying to get him up the first one. He awkwardly hopped onto it, using the wall for support on his other side. That wasn’t so hard, however, with each step that took them closer to the top of the staircase it got harder. He had one arm firmly wrapped around the girl, trying not to bring her down, and his other placed against the wall. He was trying to keep his weight off his wounded leg, but it was hard and moving was slow. His strength was starting to drain from the task, a task that normally would have been so simple for him, and he knew they needed to move faster.

They had gotten about halfway when his foot slipped. Luckily, he caught himself and was able to save them a painful trip down the stairs. He stopped for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. He was starting to get frustrated… He’d had just about enough of this. It was embarrassing, not being able to do something as easy as climb stairs. He realized that he was injured, and any person in his condition would be struggling with it, but still… With that in mind, he gritted his teeth and started moving again. This time he used both legs. It hurt, but it would get them to the top of the stairs faster, get them to safety. He didn’t think he heard any zombies coming yet, but it was hard to tell, as sometimes they could sneak up on you seemingly out of nowhere.

Finally, they reached the stop. Braden had to do everything he could not to collapse and keep walking. He sucked in his breath, putting more of his weight against the girl now, quickly taking any unnecessary pressure off his leg. He could deal with pain better than some people, as he had been a soldier in war, and there had been plenty of painful injuries involved in that job. It was a reflex reaction though, his body moving on its own to try and relieve itself from the pain. Braden tried to take some of his weight off the girl as they moved down one of the hallways. It was fairly dark up here, much darker than downstairs, and it was difficult to see where they were going. Eventually, they found a room.

“T-This is good,” Braden said quietly as they stepped inside. He removed his weight from the girl, stumbling a few steps until he ran into a wall. He leaned on it heavily, slumping against the wooden surface, barely managing to keep himself on his feet. He tried to regulate his breathing, which was coming hard and fast. The climb up the stairs had used up a lot of his regenerated strength and he was left weak from the exertion of the effort. The job was not over yet though. They still needed to barricade the door. However, in order to do that they would need some light…and he doubted the electricity would be working. “Close the door,” he told her, nodding to the wooden door that was still hanging wide open. “Find a window.” He would have done this all himself, but he couldn’t right now. He didn’t have the strength to waste on locating a window. Right now it was taking everything he had just to remain standing.

[brighteye]

[/i] He replied, holding tightly to her. It wasn't as bad as before, but his grip was stronger, so that made up for the lack of pressure against her. As they walked up the steps, he leaned more and more against her, his grip getting tighter around her shoulders. Then, suddenly, they were nearly falling because something happened on his end. Whatever it was, she nearly slammed her face into the stairs before she caught herself - and he caught himself. It wouldn't have mattered if she'd caught herself if he hadn't - he'd have just pulled her down with him.

They paused as he caught his breath. She looked him over, making sure he didn't hurt himself more from this exertion as she waited patiently for him to get ready to go. Finally, they started moving again, and she noticed that he was leaning on her more, but they were moving more. She realized pretty quickly that he was using the injured leg. Krystal debated telling him not to do it, but she doubted that she could stop him. He'd do it anyway, with or without her permission. So, she saved her breath for something more important. No doubt something would come along and then she could use this well saved reprimand at that time. Until then, she'd stay silent and make sure he kept moving. She did not want to die because he wasn't cooperating - though she would do it if it would let him survive.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the top. As he took in more air, he pressed against her a lot harder, and she kept him up steadily, letting him lead the two of them down the hallway. He managed to get the two of them in a room. "T-This is good." he told her as they entered it. He let her loose to stumble up to a wall, which he leaned against. While she didn't show it, she was relieved he wasn't pressing against her any longer. He might not be as heavy as he was before, but she had taken more weight the day before, and then she had gotten next to no sleep because she had to stay conscious to watch over him through the night. Her body was screaming for rest, but she firmly damped down on that want. It wasn't the first time she'd done such a thing in her life - she knew she'd pay dearly for it, but later. She'd pass out later. Not now, and that was the most important thing.

She could see he was panting. They were next to unarmed - she had no idea how many bullets were left in her gun. His was still downstairs. His gun - wasn't he like, really fond of it or something? She'd given it to him before to calm him down. He was obviously attached to it, the way she was to her stuffed penguin. Krystal barely heard him as he ordered her to close the door and find a window. "Stay here, alright? I'll be right back." Krystal told him, tossing the words over her shoulder as she ducked out the door, closing it behind her to cut off any arguement he might have. She was stronger than him, even in her sleep-deprived state. He was injured and could barely make it up some stairs, but she had no such thing stopping her. So, she could easily make it back down the hall and down the stairs. They were dark, and taking them faster than snail-slow was slightly difficult, as she couldn't see where to put her feet at all times.

She decended as quickly - but as quietly - as she possibly could manage. Still, she nearly face planted when she missed the last step. Krystal barely righted herself before her face violently made friends with the floor. She glanced around, staying still, listening to see if she could tell that anything was in the lower half of the house with her. No. Nothing. Not as far as she could tell, anyway. She sprinted to the back room where she and Braden had been in, wincing as she saw all the blood and the dead zombie once more. Spotting the large gun, she quickly scooped it up into her arms, before pivoting in place.

That was stupid of her.

Her foot slipped on the blood and she fell flat on her face this time with a thud. Her chest hurt where it slammed into the gun, as did her arms that were holding themselves between the floor and the gun. "Oww..." She mumbled, pulling her knees up under her to sit up. After a short moment to get her bearings, she got onto her feet once more and looked down at herself - her whole front was now covered in blood (not that there was much difference from what it looked like before). She winced as she noticed that Mr. Penguin had blood on him, and not just a little - there was a good deal there. Well, not much she could do about that. With that, she made her way back to the stairs, wary of any more falls.

As she reached the first step of the stairs, there was a crash behind her. The door to the room that she had just exited - which she had a perfect view of from the stairs - had just been broken down. Two zombies were crawling in from it. They'd obviously been drawn by the scent of blood and the gunshots. Her eyes wide, heart pounding, she crept up the stairs. But, for some reason, luck wasn't with her. She stepd on one of the steps and it creaked loudly, startling her into dropping the gun. Without any hesitation she lifted it back up and scurried up the last handful of stairs, never looking back. She didn't want to know if they were following her. Krystal opened a door, and frowned. Wrong one. Why did she close the door again? Two doors later she found Braden again, and she quickly shut it behind her, putting her back against it as she took a few breaths.

"Theres at least two more down there." She told him, trying to quell the terror and dread rising within her.[/ul]

[Braden Parker]

"Stay here, alright? I'll be right back."

The girl ignored his orders, and instead of locating a window she ran back out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Braden watched her go with wide eyes, not understanding. What was she doing? It wasn’t safe to go back down there, especially alone. He pushed himself away from the wall, attempting to follow after her, but he only made it a few steps before he fell to his knees. He stared at the door where she had disappeared, mouth turning down in the beginning of a frown. She was coming back, right? He listened, straining his ears to try and pick up any sounds. He heard her footsteps steadily thudding down the stairs, heard the wood creaking under her weight. Why was she going back down there? Had she forgotten something? Perhaps some of her nurse equipment…? Braden knew that he had forgotten his gun in his haste to escape the lower floor, but then again, even if he hadn’t been in a hurry he doubted it would have been possible to bring it with him. Neither of them could have carried it.

Assuming that the girl had gone to fetch some of her equipment, he figured he might as well try to locate the window, shed some light in the room. That way he could look around and see his surroundings, see if there was anything useful to barricade the door with. Not bothering to stand, Braden crawled across the floor, moving slowly on his hands and knees. All he really wanted to do was collapse on the ground, but he knew that he couldn’t do that, not yet. He forced his body to move, pushing himself forward. It hurt, but he could deal with it, he’d have to.

The fiery-haired man felt along the walls. In one of the corners he thought he could see some light filtering in. It was very faint, but it was there. He shuffled over to it, still moving on his hands and knees, and reached up a hand. Sure enough, there was a window there. There was a slight problem, however. The window was boarded up, as many of the windows were these days. Personally, Braden had never understood why anyone did that. Zombies weren’t going to come in through the windows. They couldn’t climb atop roofs. They weren’t that smart. All the humans did by boarding off the windows was trap themselves and seal their fate. He supposed it did keep scavengers out, but still… With a sigh, he grabbed onto one of the wooden boards, pulling himself painfully back to his feet. Muttering to himself, he managed to yank a few boards lose, making a small opening for light to filter in. As soon as the task had been done, he fell back to the ground, slowly slumping to the floor. His hands were shaking from the effort he had exerted. He balled his hands into fists, trying to control himself.

Braden closed his eyes, back resting against the wall. He leaned his head back wearily, breaths coming heavily as he tried to catch his breath. This shouldn’t be so hard… He should be stronger than this. He – CRASH. A loud sound interrupted his thoughts, startling him back into full consciousness. It seemed like he had started to doze off, and he jumped slightly, startled by the sudden commotion. His heart started racing, and he remembered the girl. She’d gone down there… Shit. He wondered if she was okay, if something had happened. Maybe she had just fallen? He contemplated this for a moment. No, that crash had been too loud for her to make. Braden’s mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario, and he started to panic. He had to get down there...

Braden was just starting to struggle to his feet when the girl burst back into the room. He stopped, halfway standing, light streaming in from the window, illuminating his figure. He let out an audible sigh of relief, sinking back to the ground again. “Don’t do that,” he muttered, closing his eyes. He was about to ask what had happened, but the girl got to it first. “There’s at least two more down there.” She didn’t have to say anymore than that, he knew what she meant right away. Two zombies. Two walking corpses. Well that was just fantastic… Not that it was a surprise. With all the gunshots he knew they’d show up soon enough.

The former soldier forced his eyes open again, looking over at the girl. He noticed that she had blood covering her front. While he knew that a lot of it was probably from him, some of it looked fresh. He opened his mouth, about to ask what happened, but then stopped. Wait… Was that his gun? His eyes widened a little, realizing that’s what she had gone back for. “You didn’t have to do that y’know…” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he decided that it would be better to save his energy. “Uh, we… we need to barricade the door...” He glanced around the room, eyes searching for items that might be useful. “If they find us… I’ll kill them. If not, we’ll save ourselves some bullets.” The words left him out of breath.

The room didn’t seem to have much in it. There was a desk in the corner, an old dusty mattress lying in the floor in the corner, some boxes stacked around the sides… The desk would be the most useful blockade, however, he didn’t think that he could move it, he really didn’t. Tugging the boards off the window had been hard enough, and that desk looked pretty damn heavy. That meant the girl probably wouldn’t be able to move it either… He bit his lip, thinking, and then winced, remembering not to do that. “Can you move those?” he asked quietly, nodding his head in the direction of the boxes.

[brighteye]

[/i] Braden chided her as he sank to the floor. She realized what it had sounded like up here. That door had be very loud downstairs, and since he wasn't there he had no idea what was going on. For all he knew, she'd hurt herself or had been attacked by something. No wonder he had been standing - he was about to attempt to try to find her. Good thing she arrived when she did - he might have been in the hallway if she'd taken too much more time. That wouldn't have been good, especially with the zombies walking around downstairs. They might have heard the two of them, and a slow zombie might be faster than the two of them. She felt his eyes on her once more, and saw his eyes widen slightly at the metal object in her arms. "You didn't have to do that, y'know..." She smiled slightly.

"Nope. But I wanted to." He liked the gun, so it was good enough reason to go back and find it. Not even finding it - she knew where it was. She'd just needed the courage to go down to the unknown and do it. "Uh, we... need to barricade the door. If they find us... I'll kill them. If not, we'll save ourselves some bullets." She nodded, glancing around as he was. What could she used to barricade a door - since she was going to be the one doing it, not him. He wasn't strong enough to do so, and he was injured. Her eyes rested momentarily on a desk, before dismissing it. There was no way on earth she could move that thing. She could try and waste precious moments, or she could move on to something else. She opted for the second choice. There were boxes around it, and she decided she could probably move them.

"Can you move those?" Braden asked her. She walked over to him to set the gun by him. "I'll do it, don't worry." They were the only objects in the room she could feasably move - she'd move them since she had to. Quickly she strode across the room and lifted the first one off of the small stack. It wasn't extremely heavy, but it was of decent weight. She wondered, as she hauled it across the room, what was inside of it. There was no time to check right now though. It was in place now, and she was moving across the room to get the second one, and then the third. There weren't a lot, ten at the most, so they'd have to make do. She only stacked the boxes three high - she was not about to fight to get them any higer than that. [/ul]

[Braden Parker]

“Nope. But I wanted to.”

It had been an extremely foolish thing to do. “You could’ve gotten hurt…” he muttered under his breath, but then decided against lecturing her. She had already gone and done it, so there wasn’t really any point in scolding her for it now. Braden glanced up at her with tired eyes, studying her. He wondered how she had made it this long, lasted for this many years in such a cruel world. She was a kind spirit, a good soul. She didn’t even seem to know how to use the gun she carried. He thought about this for a moment, seeming deep in thought. Maybe it was because she was a nurse… She was probably kept locked up in one of those dreadful hospitals or something. Braden shuddered as he remembered the last hospital he had been too. They were such horrible places… He remembered lying awake all night, listening to the dying cries of his comrades. It was something he would never forget.

Braden watched as the girl rested his gun on the floor next to him. He stared at it for a moment and then looked up and gave her a small smile, lips curving up ever so slightly. He was grateful for what she had done, grateful for the unnecessary action she had taken for him. In all truth, his gun probably would have still been there if they had just waited, left it until the zombies left. However, there was, if only a slim chance, the possibility that a scavenger might drop by and snatch it. He wasn’t sure what he would do if that happened… True there would be other guns, but they were hard to come across and finding the right ammunition could take ages. Besides, this gun was rather important to him. He didn’t fully understand why, but it was. It never left his side. Maybe he was just attached to it because it had been through so much with him. “Thanks.”

“I'll do it, don't worry.”

Braden was silent for a few minutes, watching as the girl started carrying the boxes to the door. He hoped they weren't too heavy... “We’ll have to wait a few hours before going anywhere,” he told her, taking a breath. “If worst comes to worst then there’s always the window.” He forced a weak laugh, but he was being entirely serious. Somehow he couldn’t imagine the girl being too thrilled about exiting the building that way. However, if the zombies didn’t leave they’d have no choice. They couldn’t stay there too long. They needed food, water. The girl had the small bottle, but he wasn’t sure how much was left in there… He had been in situations like this before, although in those past scenarios he hadn’t been injured. Climbing down from the roof in this state would be pretty difficult, and he would need to help the girl. The building was pretty tall, and if she were to fall from this height she would definitely end up with some serious injuries. If she hit the ground the wrong way she might even die. Braden closed his eyes, trying to clear these thoughts from his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

He glanced up at the girl, who had managed to move all the boxes against the door. He wasn’t sure if they’d be enough to hold a zombie out if it really wanted in… but it was really all they could do right now, neither one of them being strong enough to move the desk. All he could really hope for was that the zombies wouldn’t come upstairs, and if they did they would stay away from the room. They would probably be okay up here, and there was a good chance that the zombies wouldn’t find them. Unfortunately, there was always the chance that the corpses might smell the blood and follow the scent upstairs. That would just be bad. Then they might really have to use the window to escape. Braden was pretty sure he’d be able to take out one zombie, but if there was a group of them he doubted he’d be able to shoot them all. First of all, he didn’t know how many bullets were left in the gun, and second of all… well, he didn’t know if his hands were steady enough to shoot accurately.

“You can rest now,” he told the girl quietly, tapping the ground beside him lightly with his hand, showing her she could sit down. He had managed to catch his breath again now, and his breathing wasn’t coming as hard. He still looked exhausted though, face too pale, eyes with dark circles under them. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening. He could hear footsteps downstairs, slow and heavy. He prayed they wouldn’t come upstairs… though he knew that in this world praying was useless. He opened his eyes again, looking at the girl for a moment and then down at his lap. His eyes rested on the wound on his leg, the bandage, the spots where some of the blood had soaked through. The wound throbbed, pulsing with the beat of his heart. He touched a hand gingerly to it, applying pressure, but then flinched and quickly drew away. He didn’t know why he’d gone and done that… Maybe just to test how bad it was, see if it was healing yet. He sighed. It felt like it still had a way to go.