Ian was moving.
I screamed, like a little schoolgirl, when he touched me. But I found that I couldn't get away. His fingers were wrapped in my shirt, and I didn't know what to do. I expected him to rip a chunk out of me, but he just gripped my shirt, tightly, and made this little whimpering groan. It sounded like, well, it sounded like he was trying to say something in all honesty.
"Ian?"
He made the noise again. "Ian?"
I leaned in a little closer at his next sound, trying to make out what he was attempting to say. But he stopped making his noise and brown eyes stared at me expectantly. Brown. White, and brown with little black pupils. Not zombie eyes. That alone was enough to make me want to jump for joy, but I restrained myself.
He was looking at me like he was trying to tell me something. Like I was supposed to do something. I was supposed to know what he wanted, and I felt horrible. Absolutely horrible because I didn't know what he wanted. So I did the next best thing; I leaned forward again.
"Ian?" "My" "Your?" "Chchch" "Your chest?"
He made a little noise that could have been agreement. It could have been pain. And I suddenly remembered he was bleeding. A lot, if I do say so myself. He must have been in a
whole new world of pain, and holy mother of God, Ian wasn't dead yet. What the hell?!
"Guys!!" I screamed it as loudly as I could, and everyone looked. Staring at me with eyes that demanded to know what the hell was going on. Believe it or not, Blaz seemed to understand the situation first and started moving forward. "We we were wr-wrong. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead.."
I felt myself growing hysterical.
Apparently Blaz saw me getting hysterical as well. "Shush up, ye young'un."
I nodded my head in silent agreement, not entirely sure why as I removed the boys grip from my shirt and held his hand. It was such a damned relief that he wasn't dead, however
I still didn't know how he'd been shot. Or by who. Or why. And decided it wasn't very important at the groan of pain. I could wonder about it later.
Much later.
"Shh.." I tried to calm the boy, noting the glint of panic in his eyes. "It'll be okay, man. I promise. I promise." I felt myself beginning to cry again (had I ever stopped?) and tried to prevent the tears from dripping on the boy. I wasn't sure he would have appreciated it, but tried anyway. He was worth the effort. Any effort.
"Help me roll 'em over, will ye?" "Wha Why?"
"So as I can get meself a look at 'em wounds."
I hadn't exactly noticed that Ian'd been pulling himself onto his side, so I quietly placed a hand on his shoulder, shushing him the entire way to the floor. I wasn't entirely sure what
I'd ended up whispering to him, but one could be sure they were words of encouragement. For what they were worth. Which apparently wasn't all that much.
He just kept groaning, apparently in more pain than I could possibly imagine, and it made me feel horrible. I didn't want him to feel that way. I wished I could have gotten to him before he got shot. Or I could have taken the bullets out. Or given him something to make the pain stop. Anything.
I didn't want to see him like that. I really didn't want to.
"Ian, you're going to be okay buddy." "Kai, can ye come 'ava look at this?" Malachi appeared immediately.
"'Kai'?" I didn't ask so much out of shock than I did just to have something to talk about. Something that could, maybe, distract Ian. Just a little bit. "'Kai' as in a nickname. A
nickname? A nickname. Since when?" "Since Blaz started calling me it." "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Well.." I winced when Ian did. "I didn't think you were a nickname kind of guy." "Well, you thought wrong."
I pouted, but Ian chuckled so I decided it wasn't all that bad. I was willing to put up with the abuse for him. And both men Blaz and Malachi cringed when they got Ian's shirt open. I, personally, was afraid to look. So I didn't. I refused to look. The blood, the torn flesh, the pain. God, I didn't want to see any of it.
"Excel, go get a first aid kit." "From where?"
"It's a clinic"
"Of course, sorry for asking."
And I was, because it wasted five seconds with which I could have been searching for the wretched item. Wretched only for the fact that, in a place of healing, it was nearly impossible to find. I tore around cabinets, threw things from shelves, knocked otherwise useful items around to find the damned thing and couldn't.
"Malachi!"
I could hear the other younger boy searching just as hard as I was. Maybe for the first aid kit as well. Maybe he'd been sent on a different task. I didn't entirely care, all I knew is that for the seconds that my movements stopped, there were still crashing items. Someones else was looking.
"What?!"
"I can't find it!"
I was able to hear him mumble some unfavorable things, but decided against commenting. It really wasn't worth it. Not when I needed to find the impossible damn item. Realizing exactly how futile my searching was, I was beginning to feel sort of sick. To my stomach. It was a hot kind of feeling, like when you eat one week expired mayo. That really, icky, hot kind of sick feeling that makes you want to puke. Bad.
Really bad.
"I can't find it!" Talk about frustration. I wanted to scream as loudly as possible, but I didn't. Instead, I kept searching. Searching. Searching. "Can you find me forceps?"
I could have kissed Malachi for requesting the item, and heard him say something else, directed at the boy. I was so happy for the request as it gave me direction. I didn't know why he wanted it. I didn't know why there would be forceps at a normal, everyday, checkup clinic. But sure as hell, a quick scan revealed them to me.
"Forceps!" I cried the word out as I grabbed them and ran back to the boy. "What about a scalpel?"
"A scalpel?"
I was suddenly getting this sinking feeling in my stomach. I had a bad, bad feeling that he was going to end up cutting into my friend, while he was awake, and that didn't sit too well with me. But, at the same time part of me reasoned that, "Hey, he's already in pain, a little more won't kill 'em!"
Maybe that was a bad choice of words.
Needless to say I wanted to punch myself in the mouth.
"Scalpel!" That too was grabbed and handed to the boy. However far more gently than the forceps had been. Ian screamed.
I screamed. Blaz cringed.
Malachi winced but continued cutting anyway. He certainly didn't seem to enjoy causing the boy so much pain. A second of hesitation that I wouldn't have caught had I not been staring dead at the spot he was cutting, wanting desperately to look away but finding it as impossible as it was to find the first aid kit. There was this determination in his eyes though. Like he was going to do it whether we protested or not.
Protesting sounded pretty good.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I practically shouted it in the boys ear, and he winced again. Ian seemingly passed out.
"Do you even know what you're doing?!"
"I was studying fucking medicine and shit before all of this. Yes, I know what I'm doing!" "Studying.."
Malachi was planning to be a doctor? A surgeon?
Well surprise, surprise.
That was a fun fact I hadn't known. Exactly how old was he?
Not important.
"How far were you in your studies?"
"The foot bone's connected to the hip bone."
"Oh." And I nodded in understanding. Stopping for a second immediately after to shout, "Hey! The foot bone is not connected to the hip bone!" "Medical humor."
"Oh."
And I blushed.
"Really now. How far'd you get?"
"Far enough to say that, in my personal opinion, we should probably get the bullets out now. If they shift, they can puncture something, and kill him." "Really now? Well that's pleasant."
"Go find some sutures."
"Sutures?" I hoped my voice conveyed the fact that I had no goddamned idea what he
was talking about. "Sutures. Yeah."
"Layman's terms, please?" "Stitches."
"Excuse me?" "Blaz, do you"
"Yeah." Blaz looked up at me. "Go, go. I'll help ye find 'em, I will."
And so the two of us went, desperately searching for sutures. Now, people may be thinking I'm an idiot, not knowing what a suture is. In a way, I guess I am. In another way, I
guess I do know what a suture is. I've definitely heard the word before, I just don't know what the hell they look like. Not knowing what something looks like is not conducive to finding it.
"Blaz!"
No that was not me whining. "What?"
But that was most definitely him mocking me. "What the hell does a suture look like?!"
"Have ye ever gotten stitches, ye pig nosed cow?" "Only" I stopped and turned on him. "'Pig nosed cow'?!" "Do ye need me to repeat meself?"
"God!" "Have ye?" "Only once!"
"Like them things that they sewed ye up with."
I could swear he mumbled something along the lines of "useless sack of" after explaining, but generously neglected to bring it up. Bringing it up would have definitely caused an argument, and maybe even a fight. So I avoided it. Instead, I decided on something that I was sure would annoy him far, far more. Something he probably hadn't counted on.
"I was fucking passed out when they put those shits in! I don't know what they"
"They look like this, ye useless brat!"
In the old mans hand what looked like little more than a sewing needle was grasped. A slightly curved sewing needle with thread already strung through it. Upon closer inspection I realized that the needle held no eye, and wondered how the two pieces came to be connected. They were probably attached in a factory, but I'd ask Malachi at some later date, I decided.
Once I'd nodded my head at him, feeling I'd looked my fill, the man shoved his hand into a draw and started pulling out a bunch of little packages. At first glance, I figured they were rectangular condom wrappers, but refrained from saying as much. They were, I came to realize, individually wrapped sutures, and he tossed them all into my arms, before pointing in Malachi's direction.
"Take them to 'em!"
And I most certainly did. As quickly as I possibly could. Tripping over various downed items. My mind was racing almost as quickly as my feet were moving then. I wanted to get the damned sutures to Malachi. Every second I wasted was a nail in Ian's coffin. Every extra moment was one he might be able to spare.
"Got them Malachi!"
And, to my utter shock, Malachi looked proud of me.
"Good work." And he tore a package open. "Damn good work."
I found myself unable to stay in the room a second longer then, and retreated to where we'd been searching for the sutures. Blaz was having a bit of a sit down himself, rubbing his eyes tiredly. I felt sort of bad for him. He was old, we all had to admit that, but he'd been forced into my mad dash for the sutures.
Jesus.
I felt terrible. "Hey, Blaz." "Kiddo." "Tired?"
"A bit. Ye?" "I guess."
"It shows, it does." "Really now?"
"Yeah. Ye look right for dead, ye do." "You don't look so much better yourself." "Guilty?"
I paused.
I looked at him. I nodded. "Yeah."
"Ye couldn't have prevented what happened, Excel." He assured me, going so far as to touch my arm for a second. "S'not as if ye paid the damned zombie to bite 'er. Catherine did the right thing, she did. Ye'd have felt worse if ye'd been force to shoot 'er."
"Wait, a zombie bit her?"
"Why else would she shoot 'erself, eh?" "How can you be so sure?!"
"Kai told me, he did."
"Really, now?"
"Ye don't believe me? Regardless. Like I said b'fore, ye'd have felt worse if ye had to shoot 'er yerself." "You can't know that for sure."
"Ye wanted to do the shootin' yerself?" "No!"
"Then why argue?" "I I"
"Exactly."
Silence reigned for several long moments. He was thinking whatever he was thinking, if he was thinking. I was thinking about what I could say next, because I really didn't want to think about the clink of metal that I could swear I heard when Malachi was working on Ian.
"So.." I really wasn't sure what would have been considered appropriate for discussion. "We know that Malachi went to school for.. What? Medicine? Yeah, I guess medicine and surgery would fall under the same teachings.. in a way. What'd you do?"
"Not much. Grew up in an older world, ye know? School wasn't too important to the young'uns. Didn't get far in me schoolin'. Didn't finish, for sure." "Really? Then"
"Me most vivid memories are from the war, ye see?"
I nodded my head, surprisingly willing to listen to whatever bone dry story the man wanted to tell. Just for a distraction. I just wanted something to keep my mind off of.. off of.. off of everything. I just didn't want to think about the "here and now" reality. I didn't want to know what was going on. What was going to happen. I didn't want to.
"What memories about it exactly?"
Now, my expectations should have been obvious. He killed a bunch of whatever he was fighting against. Threw a grenade or two. Saved some cadets. Maybe drove a tank. I was looking forward to a tale of destruction.
"It was where I met me wife. The love of me life."
I wasn't sure my face was capable of showing the utter shock, and near outrage I was experiencing. Getting my hopes up about a war story. It was a bit of a turn, really. I didn't envision Blaz as a romantic. At all.
"She wasn't part of the war, no. Civilian. She got 'erself shot though. Screamed like a banshee the entire time, she did. Didn't take long to work up me nerves to kiss 'er quiet, it didn't. I"
"Okay. I don't really need to hear about you and your wife kissing." "Ye asked."
"Let's just say I didn't get what I expected."
"Well then what were ye doin' in life, b'fore this?" "Going to school."
"Learning" "Barely." "Major?" "Undecided." "Future plans?"
"Something about Doritos."
We stared at each other then. Him in disbelief. Me in amusement. Mostly at the fact that he didn't realize I was serious. About most of it anyway. The Doritos bit was me getting out of telling him I had very few plans for my life. Living was indeed one of them. Living was perhaps the only concrete one of them. Every once in a while I was indeed inspired. But those instances came and went. Often.
Then he laughed.
"Well, what did ye want to do with yer life?" He had to ask.
"Survive."
"Doesn't ev'ryone?" "Obviously not everyone." "Eh?"
"People kill themselves all the time." "If ye wanna look at it that way."
"I do." "Morose." "Bite me."
"Let me go get a zombie to bite ye. Ye don't look too tasty to me eyes." "Funny." I paused. "What was the thing from before?"
"What thing, kiddo?"
"The thing that was howling. The thing that we left Cathy's body out as a peace offering to?" "Oh. That thing."
"Yes. 'That thing'. What was it?" "Not pleasant, it wasn't."
"Really now."
"A.. uh.. dog of sorts, ye could say. A very violent, very 'ungry dog." "Great."
He just shrugged, and there went our conversation. I guess I wasn't very good at talking if it involved playing nice, at least not where the older man was concerned. Yes, I always seemed to be causing trouble with him. He kept causing trouble with me. Whichever. At least it was entertainment.
I looked around the room, not entirely sure what else to do. Until a shadow moved across the window. There was someone moving around outside. A person? Maybe a living person, it was moving quickly. Probably drawn to the light.
"Blaz?" "Wha'?"
"There's someone outside." "What?"
"I saw something move past the window." "Kai!"
I didn't see the point in calling our impromptu surgeon if it was a person, but a noise of acknowledgment came from the other room.
Malachi was obviously far too busy to get up. Too busy trying to keep Ian alive, and I wanted to thank him for it. I just didn't know how. 'Thanks for not letting him die' just didn't work for me.
"They're back." Who's back?
"Who's back?" I just couldn't help but ask.
"You've got to be kidding me, Blaz. Tell me you're kidding," Malachi's voice called from the other room. "Why would I kid ye abou' this? Excel said somethin' moved past the window."
"It was probably just a person," I started, trying to calm everyone down. "Coming to see if there was anyone inside to help them, in which case" I screamed when something hit the window.
Thank God the glass didn't shatter. "What the hell?!"
I wasn't sure my eyes could get any larger, staring in horror as I was. The eyes in the window were fucking glowing. They were glowing. Like a cat staring at you from an alleyway. A realistic not panicking part of me reasoned that it was probably just the reflection of the light coming from the building. Regardless.
Was it an animal? Was it something else? A human? I didn't know. And it was absolutely terrifying. It rammed the window again, but when it pulled away there was definitely something dripping.
When The Light Goes Out Page 22