Subject 3281; Chell's Story

The Mending of Wounds

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With four quick, ASHPD-inflicted cuts, Chell tore into the appendages of her partner's shabby jumpsuit, and pulled them off of the main body. She had already determined that digging the bullets out would only cause Forrest more harm, so the first thing to do now was to stop the constant, terrifying flow of blood. She scanned the boy once more. Specifically the flow from his leg. Chell took a quick assessment of her make-shift bandages, and selected a pant leg.

Forrest let out a groan as the girl grabbed his right leg at the calf to keep it steady, and—when it became apparent that more weight was needed to keep the boy from moving—installed herself on top of it. Here we go. In a flash, Chell wrapped the orange fabric above the bullet wound, just below the boy's undershorts. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen a tourniquet tied, but set to work on cutting off blood-flow to the wound with a frenzied determination. This boy will not die, I forbid it.

The make-shift tourniquet successfully tied, Chell removed her weight from her partner's calf, took a sleeve from the pile of orange beside her, and bandaged the bullet-hole itself for good measure.

After the initial concern was out of the way, the girl gathered the remaining scraps of fabric and set to work bandaging the rest of her partner's wounds. The sleeve and pant-leg were utilized for his shoulder, and the main jumpsuit body for his midsection.

Chell sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. Not the best, she thought, but it'll do... for now. She was snapped back to reality as her partner let out another groan. He's not going to make it, the rational part of her brain told her, he'll be dead within a few hours if he doesn't get medical help, and fast. Her heart began a slow procession to her toes. He's... there's no possible way I can save this situation. I'm useless in this situation; I'm useless here.

That's right, she said to herself, you are useless here. Now go look for a way to make yourself useful. The girl made as if to stand, but Forrest grabbed her hand with a grip that seemed strong enough to warp steel.

"Listen," Forrest said, the pain and strain his wounds were causing him made evident in his voice as he gripped his friend's hand. "Listen, Chell... when you get out of here, and... and you will get out of here, Chell, look m'parents up for me. They'll wanna... wanna know what happened to me."

"Nothing's going to happen to you, you're delusional," Chell said, as a tear fell—unauthorized—from her face onto his. He was one of the only human beings she had ever connected with; he could not die. The boy made a sound that seemed half laugh, half cough, and at any rate brought a good deal of blood to his mouth.

"She's lying, you know," The girl jumped as Her voice came buzzing out of the speaker above the door, "you won't survive the day. If you're lucky enough to live through the hour, that is."

"SHUT UP!" Chell roared, and for once her volume—even though she could never recall using a voice half so loud in all of her sixteen-odd years of life on planet earth—did not surprise her, dispite the fact that the awful murderess—that now appeared to be in control of the Facility—was right. Especially because She was right.

"Fine," She said to Chell's astonishment, "I can see where I'm not wanted. I needed to go warm up the Neurotoxin emitters anyway, so this really works out for one of both of us. See you soon." with that She was gone.