The Risks

September: Chapter 27

A/N: One of my dear readers told me about this song, and as soon as I heard it, I loved it and I immediately imagined it for this chapter. This chapter is dedicated to you, my dear reader. Please comment here so I can give you credit! 

It was a perfect mid-September afternoon. Sunny. Not hot, but comfortably warm. There was a light breeze, but Parker was sweating. He'd been healing slowly and moved the same way. He kept his head down; one hand shielding his eyes from the sun and the other swaying limply by his side. I watched him carefully from the corner of my eye as we stumbled weakly along the barren two lane highway. How many days had it been? Three? Five? It was impossible to tell.

Suddenly, Parker released a sharp groan and collapsed onto his hands and knees. I rushed to him, and tried to pull him up. I half-dragged him off the road and to the edge of the woods.

"Alright, let's sit down," I said to him. I helped lower him onto the ground and he sat, leaning against the trunk of a tree then I squatted beside him. "You okay?"

"I'm good," he replied weakly, his chest heaving with exertion, sweat dripping from his temples in heavy drops.

"Yeah, well you don't look so good." I scooted closer to him, eyeing his abdomen where his wound was. "Let me see."

He gave me a reluctant look and slowly pulled up his shirt. The wound was swollen, radiating heat, and there were strange, red lines growing around the stitching.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

He dropped the hem of his shirt. "It's fine."

"You're lying," I said, glaring at him and he glanced back at me with tired eyes. "It's infected."

"Yeah," he admitted softly.

"How long has it been like that?" I demanded, trying to keep panic out of my voice.

He shrugged and winced. "A couple of days."

"A couple of-" I took a deep breath, pressed my hands against my face, then pulled them away quickly as I exhaled. "Is it blood poisoning?"

"It's getting there."

"Why didn't you say something?" I demanded, my voice growing shrill.

"Because I don't want you to worry about it."

"Are you serious?" I asked almost heatedly. I felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. "You're dying on me and you don't want me to worry about it? Jesus Christ, Parker. You need medicine. We have to find a hospital or something. Just- shit."

I heard quickly approaching footsteps and peeked around the tree. A Feral was coming at us. I pulled my pistol out without hesitation and fired, and the Feral dropped.

I looked back to Parker. "We should get moving."

The curious screeches of Ferals echoed through the trees. I leaned around the trunk of the tree again to see more of them- at least a dozen- coming in our direction. I checked my clip. There were only four bullets left.

"No time for rest," I whispered frantically. "We have to go. Now."

He pushed himself up off the grass, groaning painfully. The Ferals' heads snapped in our direction as we slowly made our way to the road again. Parker's feet dragged along the cement, then he stopped and turned toward the advancing Ferals, drawing his pistol with a shaking hand.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

He fired twice before his magazine went empty. "Go, Claire."