Little Fighter (The Lost Boys)

Chapter Five: Rising Sun

"Fuck it David let me up!" Dwayne snapped at the vampire leader but it was only when Lincoln's presence was truly gone did David release Dwayne and stepped back. 

"What the hell the matter with you?" Dwayne shot David a dark look before hurrying over to Paul's side. "Easy man. Try not to move. Where'd he get you? That son of a bitch!" 

He hissed sharply when he saw just what Lincoln had done. The entire left side of Paul's abdomen from his kidney to his navel was laid open with a single gash that was deep enough to cut through the abdominal wall and expose his internal organs. 

Basically, to put it plainly, Lincoln gutted Paul like a goddamn fish. The sight was gut-wrenching.

"How bad is it?" David asked quietly. To his credit he didn't flinch when Dwayne nailed him with a filthy glare.

"Why don't you come over here and see for yourself David? Oh Shit! Sorry Paul." 

Dwayne quickly apologized when Paul let out a wail. Vampire or not having his guts splayed on the cave floor was anything but pleasant. It didn't just hurt. It hurt like hell. 

David closed his eyes for a moment. Why was this happening now? He didn't need this. Not tonight. 

Muttering something under his breath as David shrugged of both of his jackets and tossed them onto one of the broken arms of the tarnished chandelier in the centre of the cave.

"You gonna go after him?" Dwayne asked but when he glanced down at his bloodied hand he winched at the amount of blood that Paul was loosing. This was not good. 

"No." 

David reply barely reached Dwayne's ears as he went over to the tool box and began to frantically rummage through the various shelves.

"No? What do you mean no? I'll stay with Paul until Marko gets back. You go track down that bastard and I'll meet up with you as soon as I can. We can obliterate that fucker before sun-up." Dwayne swore over his shoulder before he got up and began tearing apart the tattered gossamer curtains from the decaying four-poster bed that been Paul's sick bed the night before.

Paul's wound was ugly and the irony wasn't lost on any of them that this was the second night in a row that he was laid out flat and bleeding. It would have been downright funny if it wasn't for the fact that Dwayne had to staunch the bleeding fast or else Paul would be in serious trouble. 

"Fuuuuck...you guys...why does shit...always happen...to me?"

He had a point. What was it with Paul and near-fatal wounds? 

Right now Dwayne didn't bother to respond as he shredded the off-white curtains into thick strips to use  them as make-shift bandages in order to keep Paul's guts from going everywhere.

"Fuck...it...hurts." Paul hissed between clenched teeth as Dwayne carefully tried to turn him onto his back in order to apply pressure to the weeping gash.

"It looks worse than it is." Dwayne said off-handedly as he carefully tucked an exposed part of Paul's large intestine back into his abdomen. He kept his lips pressed firmly together as he went about the gag-worthy task of rearranging Paul's innards so that everything sort of fit back into place. 

"I'm no doctor but I really hope you're not missing any pieces." 

Paul's response was anything but jovial as he swore a blue streak at Dwayne and threatened to tear out his kidneys the first chance he got. 

"You really gotta stop getting yourself torn up man." Dwayne tried to make light of the situation as he kept one blood-caked hand planted on the gash while he tried to wrap a length of fabric around Paul's side. It was a good thing that Dwayne had long fingers because they were the only thing that kept Paul together when he started to convulse.