The Woman from the Plane [Lost Fanfiction]

Chapter 18: No Rest for the Wicked

Ben emerged from his basement, wild eyed.

"Did you do it?" Valerie asked him.

He nodded.

"What did he do?" Sawyer asked Valerie.

"Reinforcements," she explained, gritting her teeth.

"Hugo, there's a first aid kit under the sink," Ben instructed. He turned to Valerie. "There's no time for any kind of analgesic—even if we had anything strong enough," he told her apologetically.

"Do we have time for any of this?" Miles asked, impatient and nervous.

Ben grimaced. "We'll just have to slap a bandage on and hope it's enough to make it out of here. If she keeps bleeding and loses steam—"

"We'll have to leave her," Locke concluded.

"We're not leaving Wednesday!" Sawyer exclaimed.

"Certainly not," Ben added, glaring at Locke.

"Gentlemen, I am fine," she declared, jumping to her feet. The movement drained her instantly—she felt dizzy and weak. She sat back down on the floor.

"Okay, maybe not," she said. She clenched her jaw and took a sharp breath through her nose. When she'd been hit, there hadn't been much pain. It had been hot—just a very intense, localized heat. She knew that once the shock started to subside, the pain would become much worse.

Sawyer and Locke fired a few more shots out of the window to keep the mercenaries at bay, driving them back into the jungle.

Ben grabbed the first aid kit from Hurley and knelt beside her. "It looks like it went clean through."

"Fantastic," she replied dryly.

"Hydrogen peroxide or rubbing alcohol?" he asked, holding the bottles in front of her.

"If I say peroxide can I drink the rubbing alcohol?"

Sawyer laughed.

Ben rolled his eyes and splashed the peroxide over the wound, clearing it gently with a cotton ball. She flinched slightly. She leaned over her knees so that he could get the entrance wound on her back.

He placed bandage pads on both sides of her wound then haphazardly emptied the contents of the kit into his messenger bag. "Well do stitches as soon as we can," he told her gently.

"I need my backpack," she told him. "It's in the closet downstairs. It's ready to go."

"I'll go get it," he assured her, getting up. He helped her to her feet and hurried across the room. He paused at the door to the stairs.

"You all need to get ready to run," he informed the group.

"Run from what?" Hurley asked,

"Just—run," Ben replied and disappeared back into the basement.

"What's the deal with you and Glasses?" Sawyer asked Valerie, sitting beside her.

"Great question," she answered glibly.

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"I told you," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "It's complicated."

"Ain't it always."

Ben burst back through the door and tossed Valerie her bag. She caught it, gritting her teeth through the pain, and slung it over her good shoulder.

"Everyone, listen up," Ben announced. "When I give the signal, I need you all to run towards the tree line, as fast as you can."

He paced over to the kitchen and pulled the curtain back to peer out of the window.