Curls (10K fanfic) Z Nation

Chapter Four: Blood

He was bleeding nonstop when I finally found a small clearing to set him down. I leaned 10K up against a tree in hopes of relieving him of weight, but his head lolled to the side and his eyes remained shut. I took his jacket and shirt off, tearing the shirt into shreds and creating a small pad to hold against his wound in the front. Using the rest of the strips, I wrapped the pad to keep it in place an tied the ends to secure it.

It was freezing cold and darker than any other night I'd ever seen. Taking his jacket and pulling it back onto him, my hands tugged the zipper up to keep him warm. His bottom lip quivered and his teeth chattered slightly, his body shaking from either the shock or cold or both.

I needed to get back to camp as soon as possible. There were antibiotics and food and supplies galore compared to now. But I also couldn't just leave him in his injured state.

"10K, what am I gonna do?" I asked the unconscious boy. "God, I'm not gonna let you die, okay? I promise." Though I'd only known him for a few weeks, but during that period of time I'd grown to not only respect and (to a certain extent) rely on him, but to also appreciate the fact that he was a good young man- good men being lacksome in this new world of ours.

I went over a myriad of plans and schemes in my head and settled in building a makeshift shelter to hide 10K in while I attempted to retrieve some supplies from the camp and possibly meet up with Murphy and Cassandra.

The fort I built for 10K consisted of a pile of flexible sticks and branches that I aligned and tied together with a line of rope that I'd tied to my belt when we escaped from the men's camp. It was domelike in shape and faced away from the north. I dragged his tall body into the fort and covered the opening with a few logs to keep him hidden. I heard a deep groan from inside and I quickly took off in the direction of where I thought camp would be.

The walk was long and by the time I reached our camp I saw that the van was gone- and so were Murphy as Cassandra. I cried out in frustration when I finished searching everywhere for anything of use. A machete, my revolver, loaded full of bullets, and half a can of beans still warm from the fire.

"No, I am not letting him down. Not him. He deserves better." I told myself. Double checked. Triple checked. Nothing left to save him with. Not a single pill. Not a drop of water. Not a pot to piss in.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I screamed to the sky. "Is this some kind of sick joke? Because I have yet to hear the punch line!" My voice cracked and tears brimmed my eyes. "You're sick for letting that boy die! Not that I'm entirely sure you're up there, anyways!"

It was true. I stopped believing in God after my brother died. And though I'd liked to have been one of the poor fools who prayed all their problems away, I was simply too aware of my situation to do something so ignorant.

With the last shred of determination in me, I rushed down to the creek. The air was even colder by the running water. My cheeks and nose stung with the frost, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was saving 10K.

I crawled over the slippery wet rocks, slipping and falling in the absolutely frigid water more than a few times. My hair was soaked in its bun and my clothes sagged with excess liquid; my skin was numb and hot all at the same time. I disregarded it and continued to creep up the boulders until I noticed what was up ahead on a small, secluded bank. It was my bag- the one I'd left at the cove a few days prior when I washed my clothes. I knew I had first aid, food and clothes inside. It was my saving grace. It was his saving grace.

I reached out for it, holding it above my head and making sure I kept it from the water. I decided not to risk losing the goods to the creek so I pushed through the thick, thorny foliage. My hands started to sting and bleed as they struggled to pull myself up the steep cliff of crumbling soil and stone.