Kennedy Hoss of Musket

Chapter 9: Bleeding Out

Mrs. Finn brings me to the bathroom, where she props me carefully against the inside of the showering bucket.

She removes my boots and rolls my shirt up. A stinging feeling shreds through my shoulder, though she has not touched me. I pull my knees close to my chest and close my eyes. My mind whirs and I try to focus on what is hurting; my shoulder, my back, my side, my stomach, my head. Then I realize something, I'm bleeding.

Blood pools around me, streaming down my back. I hear the crank working and down comes the water, but I can't tell what the temperature. Mrs. Finn pushes a cloth to my shoulder hard and a I bite my lip. I notice that she is talking to me.

"Shh Kennedy it's alright, it's alright you're gonna be just fine..."

It occurs to me that Mrs. Finn knows my name, though I have never seen her other than in her shop to tell it to her.

Grayed water carries ash away and into the mixture of blood, water, and sweat below me. My mind blinks back to the other kids still at the fence and the water truck. Why did Crow have to pull me away? Where had he been in the first place?

"Back..." I mumble.

"I know, I know it hurts," coos Mrs. Finn. She presses on my back harder. "God dammit where are they?!" She yells.

I want to close my eyes. I just want to fall asleep and not deal with anything, pain included. But I need to fight, I need to stay awake. My eyelids flutter and Mrs. Finn cusses some more.

FB

I haven't eaten in days. My body has gone into a hibernation-like state during the corpse syndrome, so I don't feel very hungry or thirsty.

It's been days; make a week. Too frail to move my mouth, unable to accept food or drink. Sometimes it gets too hot and I want to throw the blankets off of me. Sometimes it gets too cold and I want to wrap them around me tighter. If only I could call out to Hannibal.

Hannibal is in the bed across the room. She lies there just as still as me, though I can't see her. But I can hear her shallow breathing. In... Out... In... Out. Just barely.

From outside the house, I can hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. I think at first that it is Dr. Rosary, coming to save us. But then I hear several harsh male voices and a violent rapping at our door. The crunching of wood tells me that our door has just been kicked in. I have never so badly wanted to reach for Hannibal's hand.

Strange men enter our room. About four of them, wearing strange white coats with raised bumps sewn in that look like the detailed vertebrae of the spine. Their skin has no signs of being exposed to sun, and they wear scary masks on their faces. I feel frightened as the men carefully lift my bed from the floor and carry it outside and into a large silvery-white helicopter with a "V" painted on the front. Inside they fasten my bed down with straps, and stare down at me through the bulbous eyes of the mask.

Something is placed over my face, and

I feel a pin prick to my arm. In seconds, I am either asleep or unconscious. All I know is the world shuts off around me into a endless nothingness.