When We Seared The Sky

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Tripping

Sam took a hesitant step towards the girl, his whole body racked with involuntary convulsions when he saw the grisly wound out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh... no, no, no,” he whispered to himself out of anxious habit, trying in vain to keep his breathing steady. There was just so much Goddamn blood... He swallowed hard to stop himself blowing chunks everywhere before he took a deep breath. “Ratchet!” he hollered over his shoulder, which got no immediate response. His hands tightened around the first aid kit automatically and he took another wavering step forward.

And then jumped back again, groaning.

“Oh, wow...” he mumbled, covering his eyes with one hand. “Jeez, I can’t deal with this… can’t deal with this…”

He took a few deep breaths and shook his head, swallowing thickly to keep himself from throwing up. Blood and horror movies had never exactly been his bag, and this was actually worse than the stupid flick that Miles, being a complete gorehound, had forced him into watching on Halloween a few years beforehand.

There was a crunching sound behind him and he turned to see a complete stranger making his way towards him; he jumped backwards, thrusting the flashlight into the newcomer’s face. What he saw was the mature, goateed face of a middle-aged man with blindingly blue eyes, a mop of light brown hair and a stern expression. Without a word of introduction, he stepped forward, snatched the kit from Sam, and approached the casualty without so much as flinching.

Sam blinked and turned around, hands on his hips. “Who the hell are you?!” he demanded, his voice a note higher than it usually was. He really didn't like this... the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the hills in the dark with a bleeding girl and a total stranger.

The blue eyes looked at him with an extremely familiar irritability.

It took several seconds for Sam to place the gaze before his eyes virtually popped out of their sockets in shock. “Ratchet?” he exclaimed, which got a curt nod from the man. “What the – how – why – who – huh?” he finished stupidly, mouth hanging open.

How was that even possible?

Ratchet merely shook his head, rolled his eyes and knelt down beside the injured person. He leant over her and Sam slowly approached, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face rather than her left leg.

The young woman looked to be about his own age, with short, mouse-brown hair and bright green eyes that were full of tears. Her face was sweaty and grimy; fairly pretty in a plain sort of way, with a sharp chin and a button nose. She was bundled up in a thick woollen coat, but the red scarf she had been wearing was wrapped tightly around her shin - acting as a tourniquet for her wound.

Her skin was completely colourless, and Sam noted with a jolt that her lips and fingertips were tinged with grey-blue from the cold - they had to do something with this girl right now, or God only knew what would happen to her! Did she have hypothermia, or something?

She looked blearily at Ratchet, her eyes unfocused. “Are you a doctor?” she croaked out dryly, sounding agonised.

“Yes,” Ratchet nodded, unwinding the scarf from around her leg carefully without so much as flinching. Sam couldn't help but admire his ability to simply stare the gore in the face without passing out or barfing - then again, he was the resident doc-bot in town. “What is your name?” he added softly.