When the World Goes Cold

Chapter 9

"Right over here." My throat had only gotten tighter during the whole walk past. It would've been justified, if the reason was because of the pistol pointing at the back of my skull, but the overwhelming concern for Atlas didn't let me have that scrap of dignity. If they were dead, then I'd rather take a bullet.

The tent was meant to fit two people, three at best.

"Wait here, I'll go in first to make sure it's safe," Marley called out.

I stepped forward.

"There's no way I'm letting you go in without me."

She raised her brows.

"Excuse me." The same quiet voice from earlier piped up. This time I could just see the man's face as he moved. "Let them and I go in. I'll be okay."

Marley fixed me with a burning glare. "If I hear anything, I'm coming in and shooting you right in the face."

"What happened to that good mood you had earlier?"

The man cleared his throat, sending Marley through a mess of emotions before she just scoffed and stormed off.

A rusted lantern flicked to light in the man's fist, then he gestured for me to go in first.I had to duck to not hit my head.

"Hey, Atlas."

Atlas stirred, the grimace on their face broken by the goofy smile I knew, even if it looked more strained. Their movements were slow, and it took several seconds before they realized another person was beside me.

"Who's that?"

The man smiled and waved.

"I'm Herschel. I'm gonna help you."

Leaving him to get his supplies, I sat down next to Atlas and reached down to push their sweat-slicked hair out of their face.

They half-propped themself up and leaned against me, pulling my jacket along to cover themself once they got comfortable. I placed my good arm around their shoulder and brought them closer.

Glass bottles clanged as Herschel drew them out, one by one onto a clean towel until he had a dozen things across it. He grabbed the corners of the towel and brought it over, a balancing act he'd clearly done before.

"Alrighty." He grunted as he crouched down. "Let's see what the damage is. Tell me if anything hurts."

Herschel leaned over, the faint lines between his eyebrows deepening.

"What's the blood on their chest from?"

I frowned and nudged my jacket to the side. Sure enough, deep red splotches soaked the front of their sweater and left traces around their neck.