Craig of the Dead

6. Bradley's "Sinful" Crush

"So who is this 'friend' of yours?" I asked jokingly.

"Nobody. Forget I said anything." He said, his nerves returning.

"They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might. 2 Thessalonians 1:9 " He muttered, stumbling over his feet again. I hadn't noticed until now, but his voice had gotten hoarse, his breathing more rapid. I didn't know what else to do, though. Just keep doing what I've been doing, I guess.

"Aw, come on! Is she cute?" I pried.

"He..." Bradley put his hand in his mouth again, biting his nails down to stubs. "He wasn't just cute, he was wonderful. He would light up a room with one smile, and he would always know just the right thing to say. He made camp bearable. For a while, anyway. "

"Oh, it was a he?"

"Yes... I mean no... I'm better now, trust me."

"No, it's fine by me. A friend of mine is gay. Actually, two of them. They're together."

"No, I can't be homosexual. I'm just bi-curious, that's all. I'm getting fixed." He insisted, shaking his head.

"It's really okay, you don't have to be fixed. Tell me about this guy of yours." I could see the hospital at the very end of the road. We were almost there.

"Okay." He said in a shaky voice. I glanced over, surprised by how worse he looked. His face was drenched in sweat, and he was sickly pale. He was clutching onto my body, my arm basically the only thing supporting him. His head was hanging down, his eyes fixed on the ground as he spoke. "But I'm not gay anymore, okay? Just to be clear."

"Sure. Let's go with that."

"He was just amazing. I've never met anyone like him. And he liked me back! He told me so, one night when we were writing Bible verses, a punishment for me hoarding men's underwear catalogues. Even though Butters didn't do anything wrong, he still did the work with me and—"

"Wait, I'm sorry, Butters?"

"Don't make fun of it! I think it was a nickname. Plus, I didn't mind. The name Butters suited him." Bradley protested.

"No, it's just, well, I know Butters. I go to school with him, he's my friend. That's so crazy!"

"Butters lives here?" He gasped, and, as a result, launched into another coughing fit.

"Yeah!"

"Could... could I maybe see him?" He asked timidly. "Just to say hi, I mean. I don't have any more feelings for him, obviously."

"If we can find him, sure."

"I know Butters will be able to make everything all right. He did last time." He paused for a moment. "I... I miss him." I glanced over at him, watching as his eyes brimmed with tears. Despite the amount of pain he must have been in, this was the first time I had seen him cry. "I miss him a lot."

By now we were almost at the doors, but by now I was also practically holding him. My body was starting to get sore from supporting a second person.

Then, a thought occurred to me. Actually two thoughts, maybe too late.

I had no medical experience whatsoever, and this kid was gonna be a walker pretty soon. I didn't know how long it took you to turn, but so far this kid was acting normally. Well, I guess normal for him. Still, I could never be sure. And even when I get into the hospital, what then? Bradley was panting and sweating buckets. His complexion had worsened, and the bite in his side went extremely deep. It was still bleeding, getting red all over my jacket and leaving a bloody trail behind us as we walked. He was panting, his breathing heavy and labored, and he winced with each step.

"So what... are you going... to do?" He was getting worse, and fast. And my brain hadn't even had the time to process that this boy, anybody really, could possibly have a crush on Butters, of all people. Then again, Craig, one of the most popular boys in our class, started going out with Tweek, so I guess it wasn't that strange.

"To be honest, I really don't know."

"My head's getting really light. S—Stan, everything's sp....spinning." He croaked, his green eyes fluttering open and closed.

"Hold on, buddy." I said grunting as I scooped him in my arms, holding my shotgun underneath him. Now that we were inside the hospital, I made my way to one of the operating rooms, hoping to find something I could use.

"Ig—ignore what I s—said earlier. I'm glad you saved...me." I set him down on the table, his frail frame curling up on the metal surface.

"Okay, so the main thing that would kill you would be blood loss, right?" I said aloud. "I mean if you were to die, it would because of blood loss. Which you aren't going to die, just if." I was eyeing an IV that was hanging from a pole in the corner of the room. It looked medical enough, and I'd seen it a lot on medical TV shows.

"Okay, let's try this." I said, rolling the pole over to the table.

"I should have just... s—stayed at the camp." He mumbled weakly, his blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat.

"No, shut up. Just give me a minute." I said, trying to figure out what I should do with this bag thing. "I just gotta, maybe..." I bit my lip. We had already come this far, but I don't know what I had expected. There would be no doctors, what did I think I would do?

"You know what?" I said, pushing away the IV. "Screw medical stuff. My mom told me to apply pressure on a cut and it will stop bleeding. The same might go for gaping holes in one's side."

I took off my jacket and pressed it against his side. I should have done this sooner. I'm an idiot.

"H—hey, Stan? Tell... tell Butters hi f—for me." He whispered faintly.

"No," I pushed even harder on the jacket, determined to stop the blood flow. "You can tell him hi yourself when we find him. Now just shut up and trust me."

"You know w—what? I'm going to... to hell anyway. Tell B—Bu—Bu," He shuddered, his face a ghostly white, aside from the dirt and blood streaks. "Tell Butters that I l--love him."

"Stop! You can tell him your fucking self! Just give me a minute!" I yelled, racking my brain for other things that I could use. I had brown water at home, but that would only disinfect the wound, not put blood back in. I had Neosporin at home, too, but I doubted that some Neosporin and a band-aid would do Bradley much good.

"You just gotta stick with..." I began. But then I realized something.

Bradley wasn't shuddering anymore. I stared at his chest. He wasn't breathing anymore either.