Forgotten

Chapter Two: Open Wounds

I carefully reached out to opened the doors to the broken down convenience store, hoping to be as quiet as I could. Surprisingly, they didn't fall apart by their hinges when I touched them, though they squeaked loudly upon pushing them open. I opened it just enough to squeeze through, gripping my rapier tight in my hands.

The store appeared empty, save for a family of rats who burrowed deep in the corner. Pago came in after me. He knew the drill to these raids, stay quiet and keep an eye, nose, and tail out for any movement. He growled softly.

It was dead silent as I continued deeper into MOLLY'S GOODS, my senses alert. I scrounged the shelves, which were mostly empty. I found a pack of matches and a granola bar after searching nearly half the store. It wasn't nearly enough to fill our empty stomachs, but at least it was something.

After searching the eighth shelf, I heard the door screech open. Luckily, my position hid me from view of the door allowing me to search for a place to hide. There were only shelves and a counter for the cash register. I hid between the shelves and listened for the footsteps.

Clip clip clop sounded the coming of a stranger. I listened, fleeing to the next shelf if they got too close. I could see the shadow under the shelf coming closer.

I reached the end of the store, no more shelves to hide behind. I noticed another door to my right. Perhaps it led to an office or a storage unit. Whatever the case I couldn't wait around for the approaching stranger to discover me.

I rushed towards the door as fast as I dared without attracting attention to myself. I looked back once I had reached the door and saw no one. Only the constant clip clip clop of the things insured any proof of life other than my own in the vicinity. I turned the knob. Locked, of course!

"Come on," I whispered under my breath, continuing to jiggle the knob in a vain hope that it would open. "Come on you damn piece of-" the sound of shoes taking step after step on the broken wood floor suddenly stopped. I dared not turn around, I was glued to my spot my hand still on the knob and my heart pounding to escape my chest.

I heard the cocking of a gun, the safety was off. It was silent for one, two, almost three minutes. No one moved. Not a sound was made.

"Drop your weapon," the voice spoke at last. It was distinctly female and sounded hard and in control. "Do it, NOW," I froze when she spoke. "Do it or I swear to God I will blow your f*cking face off." I let my rapier slip from my grip, clanging as it hit the ground. "Good, now turn around and keep your hands on your head." I hesitated for only a moment before I obeyed, my hands on my head as I faced the woman.

She was short with black hair that was woven into a braid that wrapped around her head. Strands of hair frayed out in numerous places. She wore a tight black suit and carried a 9 mm pistol pointed straight at my forehead. She was wearing sunglasses so I couldn't she her eyes. Smart, I would've done the same if I had found any sunglasses.

Something moved to my left and I looked just in time to see a burly man with ripped sleeves showing multiple tattoos, a buzzed hair cut, and sunglasses like the woman swing a bat at my head.

The impact knocked me to the ground, rendering me senseless. I was conscious, but barely, muffled voices filled my confuddled brain. I struggled to focus my eyes and crawl to my feet, but to no avail.

I heard the muffled sound of Pago growl menacingly and saw his jumbled shape fly out of seemingly nowhere and latch his teeth onto the large man's arm. The man howled in pain and wove his arm trying to release Pago from him.

"Pago!" I tried to yell, though all that came out was a hoarse shriek of his name.

Two gunshots rang through the store and Pago fell to the ground, limp as a rag doll. I stared in shock, it wasn't true it wasn't! Tears welled inside my throat. I stumbled to my feet, took two steps towards my best friend and collapsed next to him.

There was a hole in his side with warm, red liquid spilling from it onto the floor.

"No," I whispered. I wrapped my arms around his body. His breathing was short and forced, but it was still there. "Pago, Pago, you'll be ok, you'll be just fine." My vision was slowly coming into focus as I tore off my shirt and wrapped it around my dog, pressing it against the wound. The white fabric quickly stained to red.

I pulled him onto my lap and held him there, feeling his chest rise and fall against my own as tears fell from my eyes onto his body. I don't know what happened to the two strangers, but I didn't care or look around for them. They would pay for this though, I swore it.

I slowly rocked backed and forth, my hearing had returned. Pago was whimpering. I tore open my backpack, throwing out random contents searching for something, anything that would help. I found the lighter, rolling it around in my hand. I remember from a billion years ago in health class that burning an open wound can cauterize it and help the bleeding to stop. It was worth a try.

I placed aside my blood stained shirt and turned on the lighter, placing it up against Pago's side. He whimpered in pain, but stayed relatively still. My eyes were still blurry from the blow to my head and my own tears, but I managed to hover the lighter over the wound and not burn him anywhere else.

I stopped after a few minutes. The wound was darker and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. I held him again against my bare chest. His breathing was ragged and forced I placed my hand on the wound, he wiggled in pain at my touch. I had no idea if he had internal bleeding or worse, a punctured lung.

"Don't die, Pago. Please!" I cried, "I can't go on without you. You know that. together forever, remember?" I held him tight, refusing to let go.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned to see the muscled man, his arm was badly wounded. He pointed at Pago and then himself. I didn't let him go any farther than that.

"I'll kill you, you bastard if you even TOUCH him!"

"Vince!" The woman with the gun shouted, "Let's go. He isn't worth it." Vince looked at the woman who was directly in front of us and made strange signs with his hands.

"No," the woman said. More signs. The woman sighed, "Fine, I'll ask," the woman turned to me. "He wants you to come with us. We have doctors for your dog and other survivors as well."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" I said. "You're killers, and I don't associate myself with your kind."

"Well, I tried. Let's go, Vince." The man made a halting motion with his hands and again, turning to me, pointed to my dog and himself, pulling out a tan-colored pouch with a Red Cross symbol on it.

I stared at him. He wanted to help? After trying to do who knows what to me and kill Pago.

"Let me see your eyes," I said. Vince didn't hesitate. He removed his sunglasses to reveal perfectly clean, brown eyes. I stared at them for a minute and reluctantly placed Pago on the ground. Vince immediately got to work. He began to clean the wound first with rubbing alcohol and the stitch it up with a needle and thread. It was a crude job, but I would've done worse.

"What about you," I said to the woman, not taking my eyes off of Vince and Pago. "Let me see your eyes." I looked up at her. She didn't move.

"I'm clean. What human would someone knowingly travel wi-"

"Your eyes please!" I was growing impatient, "If there's nothing wrong with you, than I'll let you go. like you said, what clean human would travel with Infected?"

She stared at me through her dark sunglasses. Then she moved towards me, are faces were just inches apart when she stopped. She ripped off her sunglasses and the fell to the floor.

I gaped at the sight. Chills ran down my spine at her eyes. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. How ironic that saying is now. Our eyes portray so much of us now. They are the thing that defines us, our identity. Her eyes. The woman's eyes. They were slightly larger than a regular humans, but that meant nothing. It was the color, the iris's took up most of her visible eyes and were a startling shade of purple with the pupil shaped as a cat's. Her eyes screamed one word, just one:

"Alien."