New World Order

2)

Isa Romain

"If I were you, I would drop your weapons now. Unless you want your friend Isa to lose her head that is," Tara growls. Noah's eyes narrow and his grip on his gun only tightens. I know better than to move. Tara is definitely deadly with her scimitar. 

"Why the hell are you even in here? We don't need a fight right now. We can all walk out of this alive," Luke says calmly. Tara's eyes flick towards him. 

"Unfortunately," she says through gritted teeth, "not all of us can walk out of here." On cue, Luke's eyes dart to Courtney's prone body. "You're right. We don't need a fight. You're the ones who drew your weapons first. Isa is the one who offered to allow us shelter here so we can help our friend."

"It's true," I state, hoping no one shoots first. If they do, this place is going to be a complete bloodbath. "Lower your weapons. We do not need all of this blood on any of our hands, now do we?" Reluctantly, they do. Tara sheathes her scimitar once again and Zack moves Courtney further into the cabin, laying her onto the floor. 

"You ready, Tara?" Zack asks, his bright blue eyes finding hers. She nods her head. 

"I have to be. We can't let her die." Zack pulls one of his packs from his shoulder and hands it to Tara. "Undo her bandage and press this to her wound," Tara orders, pulling a clean cloth from the bag. "She can't afford to lose any more blood than she already has today." Everyone stares at them in awe. 

Tara pulls other medical supplies from the bag and lays them on the floor next to her. I glance over toward Courtney and see that the towel is soaking up quite a bit of her blood. A curse flows from Tara's mouth.

"She's going to need stitches," she mutters. 

"What's so bad about that?" Noah remarks. 

"What's so bad about stitches?" she asks incredulously. "What's bad is that we don't have strong enough painkillers. What's bad is that stitches have an extremely high risk for infection. What's bad is that if Courtney wakes up while I'm stitching up her wound, I might misplace the stitch, severing something important." 

"Wait. How do you know how to stitch up a wound properly?" Luke asks, curiously.

"Now's not the goddamn time for questions," Tara hisses. "Zack, pull her shirt up and then step back. I might need your help later, but for now give me some space." Zack does as she says and steps away from his friend.

Tara immediately takes his spot, using disinfectants to clean out her wound. "Those bastards' weapons were probably horribly dirty," she mumbles to herself. 

More blood oozes out of Courtney's wound. It's deep red color contrasts with her pale skin, making the sight even more gruesome to look at. Lucy squeaks at the sight and turns away, burying her head into Luke's chest. 

After she's finished cleaning, Tara calls to Zack. "Hold this on her wound again while I thread the needle please."

When she finishes threading the needle, she takes his spot once again. With expert precision, she stitches up the gash in her friend's side. Lastly, she takes the bandages and wraps them tightly around her wound. I look over towards Finn and find him staring at her hands. They're covered in blood. 

Exhaling a huge sigh, she sits back on her heels, relieved. Her wary eyes find Zack's.

"Do you mind cleaning the supplies up? I need to wash this blood off." He smiles softly at her, and nods. 

As she walks out, her eyes meet mine. Tara dips her head in a show of thanks and heads out into the woods. 

{---------------}

Zack Kramer

A few hours earlier

All three of us are exhausted. I can see it in Tara's and Courtney's eyes. But we will trek on. We have to. Our town isn't safe, the others we've been to haven't been much better either. We've been walking through the woods for a few hours now, following the flow of the stream. 

We've decided that it's a safe bet to stick next to the water. The number of survivors we've encountered have remained few as well. It's a good thing that they were all friendly. We basically acknowledged each other and went on our separate ways, not wanting to stick around longer than we needed to. 

"Hey, Zack. Need a break? We can stop and refill our canteens now," Tara calls. Thank god someone finally asked. I nod and we make our way over to the bank of the stream, which luckily is near a small clearing. 

Courtney gets a small fire going so that we can boil our water and Tara moves down to refill our canteens for us. It's the same routine every time. Oddly, we all just met on the road. I have no idea how or why we chose to travel with each other. Well, it's clear why Tara and Courtney chose to travel together, (they knew each other before I joined their group) but I have no idea why they added me to the group as well. 

Courtney is extremely grounded and adaptable to her situation. Tara is really resourceful and has a lot of knowledge of important things like medicine and weapons. She's kind of like the 'conscience' of our group. 

I wander over to a gathering of trees to pick up more firewood for Courtney. I wonder if we'll ever form a larger group of survivors. It would probably be smart if we did, honestly. I allow my mind to wander. 

A scream pierces through my thoughts. I drop the wood in my arms and dash back to where Courtney was. There are four men surrounding her and Tara. Court is lying on the ground, a gash in her side. Tara is holding her scimitar, eyes raging. Without warning, she attacks, and I take that as my cue as well. Within moments, they're dead.

But we're stuck with a wounded Courtney and a setting sun. 

{---------------}

Tara Granite

Present time

I make my way out to the stream, the blood on my fingers suffocatingly stiff. I hate the feel of blood. It reminds me of everything that has occurred. It reminds me of my father. Of my brother... Blood is kind of my phobia now. It's suffocating to have it on my skin for too long. I know someone is following me. I think they know I know as well. 

Frankly, I don't care. Courtney is going to live. Moving down toward the stream, I dip my hands into the cool water, scrubbing at the drying blood. It comes off easily, luckily for me. If it didn't, I would've scrubbed my hands raw until it was gone. 

"Do you hate blood?" a low voice asks from behind me. I turn my head to find the guy from earlier. The one who asked what was wrong with stitches. I study him closely. He's actually annoyingly cute with unruly copper hair and intense violet eyes. Those eyes. Where have I seen them before..?

"Doesn't everyone?" I respond, not wanting to reveal too much about myself. The simple answer though is yes. I despise blood. But I'm the only one who knows how to help in medical situations. I can't allow someone to die simply because I hate the blood on my skin. 

"You're Tara, right?"

"Yeah. Tara Granite. But honestly, if you already know the answer, then why ask the question? Anyways, what's your name?" I look up towards him. A thin smirk is planted on his face. I know that smirk too...

"I'm Noah. Noah Stanford." My heart stops. No. It can't be him. This time when I look at him, a soft smile, a light smile has replaced his smirk.

"Yeah. It's really me, Tar."