Mother Goose (Hoodie x E.Jack)

11

"Don't take me to dead men!" Jack barked ruthlessly. Overhead rained gunfire and the rumble of thunderous artillery. The man below his fingers was a lost cause. If Jack could hear he would have counted the seconds between each of the heart's labored beats, counting the seconds till death.

He shook his head, there was nothing he could do. This man was dying. The fading life had stopped crying a while ago, unconscious due to lack of blood. He had gotten to Jack's care too late, so on to the next Jack would go. It was an annoyance, to be taken to those that could not be saved. Annoying and cruel, for Jack was hungry but couldn't afford to lose precious seconds.

"Doctor! Doctor!!" A shrieked voice cried from the heavy fog of gun-smoke, so thick Jack felt it was water and he a fish. Jumping to his feet the cannibal left the man to die and ran toward the voice, his vision a mess but nothing could be done.

His head pounded from blasts that shook the earth. Sensitive ears ringing like a baby with a bell. But nothing could be done about it. It was just another day of war. Jack couldn't recall the year, the reasons or how he had been swept in it but all those details were minor as he raced against death along a busy, uneven landscape. The ground was torn and shredded from boots and weapon. There was no sky.

Jumping across the charred land in high cut, military boots Jack panted through his mouth underneath the crying mask. He could not breath through his nose. The mask was black with grime and blood and so was Jack, who was sick of the feeling but could not afford to pause.

"Doctor! Doctor over here!" The voice screeched again, just a shadow in the haze. Springing over Jack slid to his knees before a body. The wounded's comrade kneeled on the other side shouting to be heard but saying nothing.

"What happened!?" Jack roared over the noise and got to work.

"Bullets!!" He comrade cried back. He had a lighter voice, leading Jack to believe he was young. After all only the young attempt to comfort those dying with words when nothing could be heard.

Under his hands that tugged and tore away army uniform the wounded groaned, moaned a feeble sound. Jack knew it hurt, but not much could be done. Finding the wounds once exposed the cannibal sat hunched over them, trying to keep the grime and gunpowder off the sobbing holes. Reaching into his gear Jack pulled out a pare of bloodstained tongs and grimaced. Ripping a good chunk of uniform off the already tattered shirt Jack stuffed it in the injured man's mouth. "You're gunna need this!!" He huffed and with a breath dug in.

Jack was getting close to done, working as fast and delicately as he could in those conditions. The young comrade was crying, holding his knees to his chest and loudly praying to make it through alive. The wounded had passed out, but was alive which was all that mattered. Behind him Jack heard more shouts, more guns, more wounded. He payed attention to where the blasts were and how close they were getting. They sounded far away- as much as Jack could figure- but this only enforced his need to run. The blasts would hit them soon, if not next.

"Clear!" He growled and sat up, quick to brush the blood off on his ruined clothes. God how he longed to lick it off his fingers instead. Crawling over the passed out man Jack get ahold of the young comrade and shook him. "Hear me!?"

It took a heartbeat for a response. "Y-yes!"

"YES!?!"

"YES DOCTOR!"

"Take this man out of here! Carry him back to safer grounds!"

Scrambling to his feet the comrade struggled but managed to pick up his friend. Shaking his head Jack got to his feet also and corrected how the wounded was held.