Days of Darkness: ¡Viva la Gloria!

Chapter 4:

I hear a body slump to the ground. I open my eyes, obviously telling me Dan didn't kill me. I see Jimmy, his arm extended, sidearm drawn, the barrel smoking, and a look of absolute resentment on his face.

I look behind me to see Dan, collapsed on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead. Dark blood seeps from the wound, bubbling up and running down the temples of his head. His brain matter is splatters across the ground, a mix of pink and red clumps of the mushy organ.

"What the hell was his problem? That is the stupidest reason anyone wants to kill someone over. Of all time," I ask Jimmy.

"I'm pretty sure he had some kind of mental disorder. Or maybe he was just straight up crazy. Probably the second one," Jimmy replies, dropping the handgun on the floor.

"You need medical help," I turn to look at the group behind me, "Someone find the medical supplies! Spread out and find them! Quickly!" I yell at them.

They all scatter, rushing out the door, practically tripping over each other. Once they leave, all that's left in the room is Jimmy and I. He continues to clutch his right side, head pressed against the wall. He looks at me, his eyes glistening from the sunlight seeping through the single window.

"This day really spiraled out of control quickly, didn't it?" he says with a laugh.

"It really did. I just hope we both survive it. And keep surviving. I'm not ready to die, or to lose my best friend. Not today. Not ever," I say to him, putting my hand on his left shoulder.

He looks away from me. "Hey, listen. If we don't make it, I want you to know-"

"We found a med-kit!" Someone yells, poking their head in the door way.

"Great!" I look back to Jimmy, "What were you saying, Jimmy?"

His face turns red slightly, still not looking right at me. "Uh, nothing. It was nothing. Forget it," he says.

I grab the med-kit and open it up. I pick out the disinfectant and bandages from the small assortment.

"Jimmy, I'm going to have to cut your shirt off so I can work on your wounds better," I say, grabbing the bandage shears from the package. I grab a small section of his shirt, and start cutting. I cut his shirt in half from the right side, so the now two separate pieces will have to be taken off from his left side.

I slide off the torn fabric, now giving me the space needed, which is his entire torso, to apply the bandage. "This is going to sting, so try not to thrash around," I say to Jimmy, preparing the disinfectant for his wound. I gently dab the wound and the skin around it. He winces when it contacts the raw, torn skin.

Once I'm done cleaning it, I apply a pad onto it, having Jimmy hold it in place while I wrap a gauze bandage around his waist. I tie the ends off, backing away from him to see how I did. It's not professional, but it should work.

"How's it feel, buddy?" I ask him. He groans in pain when he tries to move, but he manages to stand himself up.

"Good enough to keep going. I hope," he replies. Aside from the single window of sunlight, the room is dark, and his large, muscular silhouette looks intimidating.

"Glad to hear that. But, where are we going to go? It's clear we can't find help here, or anywhere; so where do we intend on going now?" I say.

"Get out of the state. Maybe Nevada isn't engulfed in chaos like Cali is. It's our best chance," Jimmy says on-the-fly.

"It probably is. Call me crazy, but isn't it weird that people began talking about the government punishing the states that stopped paying the high taxes, being us, Oregon, and Washington; and just as we hear about it, everything collapses around us? I feel as though this was all planned. Everything," a girl, whom I recognize from the sophomore class of our school, says walking forward from the rest of the group.