Forged in the Shadows

20th April 8:40 PM

Yesterday blurred by. We went on collecting resources. I just found out that Dylan is dyslexic. So it's decided that I'll read the books and tell him about them.

So far I've read the fourth chapter of: How to Survive in the Woods. There's one more survival book I have. It's called 100 Deadly Skills: The SEAL Operative's Guide to Eluding Pursuers, Evading Capture, and Surviving Any Dangerous Situation. Yes, that's how long its name is.

But I reckon the first book is more useful. I wonder if my luck is good now.

There's also a really thick book with a scratched name on it so I don't know what it is. There's a notebook inside of it though. I'll read it later.

I'll talk about the books again but today, things just got more exciting. In a good and bad way.

This morning I was reading the books and trying to figure out something to replace the lighter. But I found nothing good except making a fire with sticks which is supposed to take at least a whole afternoon, 6 hours and using a magnifying glass to make it quicker. I try to find some glass shards. It won't be too hard since the bombs blew all the windows out.

Then, I heard something. It was a soft cry. I wasn't in the cabin since there was no source of light in it. We couldn't afford to use the lighter except when cooking.

It sounded like a girl. I looked around. I heard it again. Then I saw her. Crawling on the floor. She had a bullet in her right arm, knee and shoulder. She was around my age.

Then suddenly she couldn't crawl anymore. I had compassion for her, knowing that she had probably been shot by some from the South Region. But then I saw she was wearing a wrist band. It was the South Regions' flag. Purple and white stripes. The ones who had supposedly killed my family. Though I wasn't sure if they were dead. Hopefully not.

But you must know how it feels to be lost, away from your family. Plus, she was shot.

So I decided I would help her and brought her to the door of the cabin. I looked for alcohol but there was none. I read if you had hydrogen peroxide it would help too but I didn't even know what it was exactly. So I found some soap. I took some other stuff as well. I dragged her by the foot to the stream since she was too heavy to heave on my shoulder.

I had once read a book about someone getting shot. It wrote that if you removed the bullet, it could cause more damage. Instead, just clean it. Make sure the blood stopped. The bullet could get squeezed out by the body itself. I didn't believe so but when I asked my uncle, who worked in a hospital as an assistant surgeon, he said it was true.

The bullet in her right arm was sticking out. I washed my hands in a pot(we didn't use it for cooking) with soap. Then, I took a cup and filled it with water, poured it on the wound and rubbed some soap around it. I rinsed the wound again. She twisted in agony and gritted her teeth. It probably hurted a lot. Then I took a blue shirt and cut it into stripes and wrapped it around her wound. Then I tied a knot so it would stay stuck.

The bullet in her knee gushed out so much blood her entire leg was wet. I cut her trousers' right side off so I could clean it.

I repeated the same steps I did to her right arm to her leg. But I had to unwrap it again since the blood continued to gush out. I wrapped it three times until it finally stopped.

I did the same to the shoulder but I didn't know how to wrap it. I figured it might as well just look like a sash going from her shoulder to her waist. So I did that.

She was looking fine by then but too weak. So I dragged her by the foot again until we reached the cabin. I told her, "You're going to have to sleep on the floor if you stay here." She managed a nod.

"I suppose you're from the south. I know that you guys wear that wrist band. I've seen pictures," I said. She nodded again.

"I have no idea what happened to you so I expect you to answer some questions," I said. She nodded again.

I didn't know what to say next so I continued to read the survival book. Then I heard footsteps. Dylan.

I wondered if he'd get angry about what I did.

"I've got some ideas for the alt of the lighter," I said.

"Great! Thank goodness," he said, "Since we're almost out of the fuel for it."

"And, well...I've found someone..." I said. But I didn't have to continue since he walked in and saw her.

"You saved someone from the South?" he said, seeing the wrist band and blood bandaged.

"Yeah..." I said scratching my head.

"Ok," he said, shrugging his shoulders. I didn't ask why.

He pulled me aside and said, "Suck all the information out of her. She should agree to help. She must anyway." I nodded. It made sense.

"She'll need some food to talk though," I said, "She's too weak."

My father used to make a kind of simple soup. It's just rice with water. You drink it hot and he made me drink them whenever I had a fever.

Yesterday we found a packet of rice, squashed but edible. So, I boiled some. I wash the rice first, which I know many people don't do, then add some water and boil it.

Dylan was surprised. "Holy moly, I didn't know it'd be so nice to drink," he said, "It looks so plain." We gave a bowl to the girl. She had enough strength to hold up the bowl drink with her left hand. I was glad since I did not want to feed her.

Now we have a potential source of information, but another person to take care of, which just so happens to be part of something I extremely dislike. 

That's all.