Stars Of Our Lives

God Is Trying To Kill Us

"What happened to Steve?" I asked, running beside Krel as we rushed back down to the infirmary, Jim right on our heels.

"I don't know," Krel swallowed. "But he's not in good shape, none of them are."

"But what happened?"

"I just told you what happened!"

"I meant how bad is it!" I shouted back. "How is he hurt?"

"Multiple lacerations to the abdomen, blunt force trauma to the skull, something about a fractured talocrural -"

"Speak English!"

"It's bad, Aja!"

"Argh!"

Panic was exploding in my chest, my heart thrumming in my ears as I sprinted out of the tunnel. My knees felt like jelly but I forced them to keep carrying me. My hands were trembling at my side, so I clenched them tighter to hide it.

All I could think was no. No no no no nonononono

I burst into the infirmary with so much force I knocked over whatever poor kid happened to be standing in front of the curtain. The storage space had been cleared to make room for more people, makeshifts cots spread wherever they could fit. There were at least eight hunters, sprawled out however they could manage, stains of red surrounding them as they moaned. Two or three weren't even conscious.

Kids were buzzing in and out, whirling from body to body with towels, bandages, disinfectant, water -

"Jim!" A girl kneeling beside a cot in the back called over to us. She was Toby's girlfriend, wasn't she? She was from Arcadia at least. What was her name again? Darci? "Thank God you're here. I think we have a spiral fracture on our hands, I need your help to set it."

He didn't even hesitate before barreling over to her.

Krel led me towards the back, more into the storage area than the actual infirmary. There, laid behind a wall of big plastic tubs, was Steve.

His shirt had been cut open, revealing the slices across his torso. Tissues and bundled up sheets had been placed over them, splotches of red bleeding through the white. His left leg was lifted off the ground by a series of pillows, a makeshift splint locked around his ankle. His face was red and streaked with dirt. His hair was slick with sweat. He was shaking.

The kid aiding him managed to shove a third pillow behind his back, forcing Steve to sit up all the more before scampering off to help somewhere else. Steve was grunting as he winced, his hands reaching for the cuts on his stomach before thinking better of it. It took him a moment, but he saw me.

His face went soft, all the tension leaving his eyes. "Aja . . ."

"Steve!" I dropped to his side, suddenly feeling tears pull at my eyes. But God, I did not want to cry now.

His coarse hand caught my cheek, sliding into my hair as he pulled me close. But his hold wasn't as strong as it normally was. His hand was almost limp against me. I had to put my own against it to keep it firmly on my cheek.

"Oh my God," I gasped, my free hand hovering over the wounds.

"Heh," He gave a breathy laugh. "You should've seen the other guy."

"What happened?"

"Creeps is what happened," He grunted. "The shitheads got the jump on us - but don't worry, the Palchuk gave 'em a good fight."

Krel knelt beside me. "How did you get away?"

"Ran like the flippin' wind, buttsnack."

"What do you mean they got the jump on you?" I asked. "What would a bunch of creeps be doing all the way out here?"