Come Back to Me

XXVII

"I should probably look at your cut," Carter's gaze was locked in the distance as he broke the silence for the first time in hours, his words coming out as a mumble. It was if he were once again mute, his suggestiong flowing into one of Cordelia's ears and out the other, "Lia."

She jumped as his hand grabbed her shoulder, shaking her head, "Sorry, what?"

"Your wound, I want to see it," He tried to muster the strength for a comforting smile, Cordelia apprectiated that. And as he took off the gauze over her stab wound, she was even more appreciative but, she must've looked confused at the fact that it was now a mere scrape because Carter was spewing an explanation in seconds, "it's looking good."

"Did anything come with the parachute?" She wondered as he applied the last of the gel to her stomach. It was a smaller container than the last one but, undoubtedly just as if not more expensive.

"No, now be still," Carter said sternly. Cordelia mumbled another apology, stilling herself so he could finish redressing the all but healed cut in her abdomen while instructing her through the steps, "it's mostly healed but, keep it dressed for the rest of the games."

It was then that she actually thought about the fact that he was teaching her what to do. Like he wasn't going to be there to do it for her again. That's when she stopped paying attention, mostly out of spite.

"Right, we should get moving, kill Lucky before it get's much later and they send something else after us."

Cordelia didn't want to wait to see Parker's face in the sky, becuase if she did that'd make it realer than the nightmarish feeling it had to it now.

"Are you sure we don't need to plan it more?"

She shook her head at Carter's suggestion, stomping forward with a newfound determanation, that was fueled purely by anger. If Lucky would've just died like he was supposed to, maybe this would be easier. Maybe it would be harder. It doesn't matter, Lucky wasn't dead. Parker was.

"You're right," She mumbled suddenly halting her steps. It took minutes for Cordelia to speak up again, her eyes staying locked ahead of her instead of on the boy behind her, "we should split up."

The only way she'd be able to win is if she let him out of her sight but, she still wanted to kick herself for the idea.

"What," Cordelia could hear his footsteps quicken to catch up to her, and against her better judgement, she stopped to face him, "you said what?"

"It'd be better for both of us," Her voice grew stern, entertaining the thought that if she said it mean enough, she'd be able to chase him off, "I could go after Lucky and you could get away from the both of us. We could leave it up to the arena after that-"

"No." Carter argued.

It was nowhere near enough to stop the girl in front of him, "Then at least we wouldn't have to go against each other."

"And what if he killed you," Cordelia turned back around, walking away from the question, "Cordelia!"

She kept walking, the boy continuing to call her name but then, something changed.

A new, shrilling and desperate tone to the call, the piercing shriek spinning Cordelia towards him with a shocked look. She stepped back towards her young ally cautiosly, her eyes widened with panic, her hands stiff and locked into place.

Something was wrong.

Carter stood, paralyzed with the terror of his expectations, the only thing moving his shaking lip.

"What?" She mumbled.

His eyes darted to the side, gesturing to his back and then she saw it. The red eyes glowed over his shoulder as the animal slithered over him slowly. Images flooded her head as she inched forward. Images of the girl from five's muttated body. Images of what remained of her. Images of Carter's features changing, a pitch black face, a tall bony frame and swinging sand textured limbs. But how could she know, she hadn't seen it yet? Except, the second she took to think about it, proved to her that she had. Days ago, the dream she had considered to be nothing but a spine chilling figment of her tired imagination.