Don't Be Scared

S2 E3 : 🛑 ZR 🛑 (Ch. 148)

"Let's agree to never do that again." I mumbled to the two rescuers, rolling over onto my back.

As soon as Cassandra saw me moving, she was back on top of her feet, examining me with distant eyes. Warren refused to stop running until she got beside 10K and I, which was when we started to sit up as well.

"You've got to be more careful, (Y/N)."

My leader put a hand on my shoulder, looking me over carefully. I was standing up on my own, looking into her worried chocolate orbs. I bet she thinks I'm suicidal.

"I didn't think there would be a freaking cliff right there." I sighed, looking down at my knees instead of her sad expression.

I'm not trying to kill myself. I'm just sad; that's all. Blood was oozing from the scratch on my right kneecap, but it wasn't too deep to cause concern.

"Doc." 10K ordered for, turning his head away from looking at the fresh wound.

I didn't even know he had been staring at it until I looked at him when he was lifting his head up and looking for the medic. Doc came rushing to our sides, looking at 10K before he looked my way.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up, kiddo."

I nodded my head in agreement, letting him help me wobble over to the huge piles of rocks. It's the kind of scratch you get after falling off of your bike.

Murphy and Cassandra claimed half off the rocks and the fallen tree as theirs as Cassandra sat on the tree and Murphy sat on the rocks in front of his slave. Her fingers rubbed against his shoulders in a massage, probably ordered by Murphy.

I sat on the grass in front of the two with my right leg stretched out. The cut wasn't bad but it wasn't that good either. I just needed something to clean it with a bandage. Then, I should be good for the rest of my life with only a scar to remember the pain.

In the corner of my eye, I watched as Warren and 10K interacted with each other. They were talking about Cassandra, had to have been by the way 10K keeps looking at her. I focused my attention back onto the makeshift doctor when he asked a question.

"What?"

"How are the stitches on your wrists?"

I extended my arms out from leaning on them, shrugging my shoulders to answer him. They feel fine now that I don't have two people tugging on them.

"10K and Cassandra both had to pull on them."

I think they're fine, though. They're not itching in anyway nor are they feeling sore.

"I'll take the stitches out in three days." Doc informed me, taking a rag from his pocket and dabbing the somewhat clean fabric against the open cut.

I hissed at the feeling, burning sensations running up and down the whole leg now. Ouch, ouch.

"Are you okay?" Doc asked quietly so that no one else would hear his question.

Probably hoping that if we talked real low, I'd actually express myself.

Since Warren asked me the same question, I answered truthfully, "My brother just died in front of me, and I think he took my life with him. I think it's safe to say, I'm not okay with anything right now."

I turned the corner of my lips upward into a small smile, trying to get Doc to realize that shit just went down in my world, but I'm still breathing. And if I'm still breathing, I think I'm doing pretty good in the apocalypse.

They need to stop worrying so much about me; I'm not a ticking time bomb anymore. Just a sad bomb that doesn't need to be irked by the person that made me this way. The doctor on the ground finally tied the rag around my kneecap as a bandage.

This way the blood would hopefully clot on the surface and no more bodily fluids would seep out of my body. It also protects the opening from any dirt and debris that could get inside my body, which could lead to a serious infection.

"Come on, let's go see what you found."

Doc helped me up, and we walked over towards the rest of the group. We all watched as a semi-truck was barreling down the orange dirt road, heading towards a flipped over car--that was on fire, may I remind everyone--on top of a tall hill.

I could make out a single body running around the smoking car, but Warren was the only one that could see everything real well; she had taken 10K's sniper rifle and was currently using his scope.

"Is that some kind of post-apocalyptic wagon train?" Addy asked, not knowing what to call the vehicle rushing towards the stationed car.

I focused back onto the main attraction at the moment: the semi was attached to a long trailer that had some cage on top of it. The structure was perfect for a sniper, but I didn't see one inside.

Behind the stand was just an old, dusty car that didn't seem to do anything but collect dust and watch the world pass by. Why keep a non-working vehicle on board? Then, a small part of the end of the semi seemed to be holding something back there.

Behind the trailer were two more vehicles, following the semi in a perfect sync speed.

"Well, it ain't the three-ten to Yuma." Warren answered sarcastically.

Warren stood on the edge of the cliff with 10K's sniper rifle tightly in her arms, and 10K standing closely on her left. Addy was on Warren's right, squinting her eyes to watch the show herself. Doc and I took the empty space on Addy's side.

Over a hundred feet in front of the obstacle, the semi began to veer off the road and into the ditch. The vehicles followed the large truck into the ditch faithfully, staying behind the bigger transportation for protection.

When the truck came to a complete stop, we could hear gunshots now echoing out to us from the person using the burning car as a wall. Why are they blocking the road from them? I'm not a professional gambler, but my money would be on the semi--if I had any.

None of the vehicles on the left side of the battlefield seemed to be returning any fire yet.

"Don't get out of the truck." Warren instructed them despite the distance between them and us.

I'd listen to Warren.

"It's going to be a slaughter, Warren." I commented on the sight, not knowing if there was any way to help or settle the battle between the two.

|| Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be? ||