Cutting Losses

Chapter 10

In the quiet of the cabin, the two Survivors settled in for what they hoped would be a brief respite. Bill leaned against the wall, his eyes drifting shut as fatigue washed over him. Francis found a corner with a tattered blanket and a few pillows, laying them down for a makeshift resting place.

The first night passed uneventfully, but as the second day dawned, the pressure of the wound on Bill’s side became increasingly apparent. What had once been a dull ache now pulsed with a deep, biting pain. He gritted his teeth against it, determined to keep a brave face for Francis’s sake.

“Hey, old man,” Francis said, breaking the silence as he stirred awake. “How’re you holding up?”

“Just peachy,” Bill replied, forcing a chuckle that felt more like a wince. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but the movement only intensified the throbbing.

Francis narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Bill’s expression. “Peachy, huh? You sure that wound isn’t looking a little worse?”

Bill shrugged dismissively. “It’s fine, really. Just need a little rest.”

But as the day wore on, the pain grew sharper, and Bill caught sight of his reflection in a broken piece of glass. The wound was far more swollen than before, with a nasty red hue spreading around it, the skin angry and inflamed. Gritting his teeth, he turned away before Francis could notice. He didn’t want to worry him more than he already was.

However, Francis’s intuition told him otherwise. He could see the way Bill’s brows knit together when he thought no one was watching and how his breath hitched occasionally, betraying the discomfort he was in. The fear gnawed at Francis—what if Bill was turning? What if this was a sign of infection? He could hardly stand the thought.

“Bill,” he said, hesitating for a moment, “I know you’re trying to be tough, but—”

“Francis,” Bill interrupted, his tone sharp. “I’m fine. We have to keep moving. We can’t afford to waste time here.”

Francis stood firm, crossing his arms. “You’re not fine. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you might end up worse. I can go out and find something—anything—to help with that.”

Bill opened his mouth to protest but stopped short, the sincerity in Francis’s voice cutting through his defenses. He could hear the underlying fear that Francis struggled to contain: the fear of losing him.

“Look, I appreciate it, but it’s just a scratch. I’ve dealt with worse,” Bill said, attempting to sound convincing.

“Yeah? Well, this scratch looks like something a zombie would have, not a survivor,” Francis shot back, his voice cracking just a little. “You could end up worse, and I can’t lose you. I won’t. Not another one...."

Bill’s heart twisted at the desperation in Francis’s eyes. The younger man was rarely vulnerable, but in that moment, he was laying it all bare. “I’m not going anywhere, Francis. You know that,” he replied softly, trying to reassure him.

“Let me go look for something,” Francis insisted, his voice rising slightly. “You need something stronger than whatever we can manage in here.”

The tension hung in the air like a thick fog. Bill clenched his jaw, the pain making it harder to think. He hated the idea of leaving Francis to venture into the unknown alone, especially given the infected that might still be lurking nearby. But he could see the determination in Francis’s gaze, the way he wouldn’t back down, and it made Bill realize how much he meant to him.

“Alright,” Bill finally relented, his voice low. “Just… be careful. Please....come back safe.”

“Always,” Francis said, a small smile breaking through. He quickly gathered a few supplies, slipping his weapons into place as he prepared for the search. “I’ll be back in no time.”

As Francis stepped out into the dim light, Bill settled into the small corner of bedding Francis had made. He winced again as he pressed a hand to his side, feeling the heat radiating from the wound. He had fought many battles, but this was different. The fear that lingered in the air wasn’t just about the infected; it was about what might happen if he couldn’t keep himself together.

Age was not going to catch up to him this easily. He'd seen too much and lived through too much to end like this.

He took a deep breath, pushing the thought away as best he could. Francis was out there, and he had to stay strong for him.

Minutes stretched into hours, and the cabin felt unbearably quiet without the younger. Bill closed his eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort, but as time passed, the pain in his side pulsed relentlessly, reminding him of the danger lurking just beneath the surface.

Then he heard it—the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. His heart raced as he opened his eyes, instantly hopeful. When Francis stepped back into the cabin, relief flooded through him.

“Found something!” Francis exclaimed, excitement lighting up his face as he held up a small medical kit, the red cross barely visible against the grime. “It’s not much, but it should help with your wound. Hell, there was barely anything left to be honest...."

Bill took the kit from Francis as he was offered it, feeling a swell of gratitude. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

“Just doing what I can,” Francis replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

As Bill began to clean and dress the wound, Francis watched closely, his anxiety still clear. Bill met his gaze, determined to keep his promise. He would fight through this for Francis—he would not let the darkness claim him so easily.

“Just another day, right?” Bill said, trying to lighten the mood, as he looked back to his wound.

“Yeah, just another day,” Francis echoed, though the concern never fully left his features.

And in that moment, despite the looming threats, they both knew they would face whatever came next together—brothers against the world.