Gridlock Asylum

3-Wounded

          Blane awoke to a mockingly bright day. the sun shone through he leaves, tinting his hard bed green. He squinted in the bright light, used to waking up to a dull room with loud voices screaming at him. The peace and quiet of the forest was almost unnerving.

         He rolled over and look down the trunk of the tree, seeing the worn tennis shoes that Nyiah always wore sticking out from beneath the trunk of the tree roots.

          He sighed as he remembered the events of last night. Their escape, Nyiah's wound. He grasped the edge of the tree canopy and began to crawl down, his stiff muscles making sure it was not an easy descent.

           His feet touched the ground, and he bent over, grasping Nyiah's feet, pulling her out. He didn't bother checking to see if she was awake before dragging her into the light. She groaned and reached up to rub her eyes. She yelped and threw her arm back down, only just remembering the hole in her shoulder.

           She would need rest and medical attention, neither of which she could be given right now. All they could do was find some way to clean the wound. Maybe if they could find water...

         But even Blane could see that they were in a less lush part of the forest. They probably wouldn't find water for miles. Why had't they thought to bring supplies?

           "Can you walk?" he asked. it was just a shoulder wound. It shouldn't hinder her walking.

        She gave a weak nod, and Blane painstakingly helped her stand, her face contorted into a grimace the entire time. He could almost feel the pain himself.  They began to walk, Blane doing most of the work as he pushed the foliage out of the way.

          They walked like this for an hour before they both had to rest. Their bodies were weak from years of debilitating treatment from their parents, and going for long shifts like this was near impossible. His stomach growled from painful hunger.

            Blane looked around the area they sat in, completely surrounded by all manner of plants and animals. He could hear them scurrying through the underbrush.

             Something bright caught his eye, and he crawled over. A berry bush! The berries were red, with a triangular shape. He vaguely recognized them from a Thanksgiving celebration from many years ago. There had been no celebrations since their real mom had died in a car accident.

           He paused and thought of his mother. A kind, warm face and beautiful red hair with grey eyes. He smirked as he thought about how Nyiah had inherited everything about her. He, on the other hand, had a mystery set of genes. His only clue was his father, who shared his blue eyes. He had once been the father every kid dreams of, but after Mom died, that all changed.

       With a sigh, he looked back at the berries and picked one, putting it in his mouth. It only occurred to him after he did this how unwise that was. These berries could be extremely lethal. He could die!

          But no, the taste was familar. And he suddenly remembered. Raspberries!

         He smiled and picked more, getting as many as his hands could handle before making his way back through the foliage to Nyiah. She smiled as she, too recognized the berry. She took a few and put them in her mouth, her injured arm hanging limply on her lap.

         A pause as they ate, then Nyiah spoke, "Do you remember her?"

         Blane nodded. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

       "I wish she were still here. I thouth we would have the best life of any kid in the world. She didn't care that we were mutants and freaks of nature. We were always 'Honeycakes' or 'Frosty' or some other stupid pet name," she smiled at the memories.

          "And Dad was so much more loving," Blane whispered. Nyiah could only nod in return.

      Another pause. Blane's hands were empty, his skin stained a light red from his snack. His stomach still grumbled, but he knew they had to keep going.

         "You ready?" he asked. Nyiah nodded again and lifted her good arm to his hand, pulling herself up. She stood on her own and began walking ahead of him, cradling the injured arm to keep it from hitting anything.

             Blane pursed his lips and followed after her. That wound would get infected without some sort of treatment, but Blane still couldn't see any kind of signs of water around here. There would still be a awhile to go yet.