Fireheart | Raven Reyes [O.H.]

24 | dead man walking

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chapter twenty-four!
DEAD MAN WALKING
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ARES ORTEGA IS a dead man. Or, at least, that's what everyone in the dropship likely believes. It's funny how the killer becomes the one killed, right?

He and Kiernan only get to rest in the ditch that had saved them from becoming barbecued for a few minutes. Afterward, the residual heat from the massive fire gets too much to bear, stifling them in their jackets and already-increased body temperatures from the strain of battle. Ares has to practically drag Kiernan out of the trench by his arms. He doesn't want to think about how much dirt he's burying into his gruesome leg wound, but there's no other option.

Ares is sure he'll never forget the sight of their beloved camp burning. Nothing is spared in the path to demolition. The flames burn high and bright, practically blinding against the pitch-black darkness of the night, searing into Ares' eyes as he watches, transfixed by the destruction. Smoke pours into the air and makes him cough. The haunting screams of the living being burned alive ring in his ears. It feels like a funeral not only for them, but also for everything they'd built with their bare hands over the past month. All of their hard work is engulfed in flames.

It hadn't been a home, but Ares had certainly felt more comfortable in that camp than he had in his own living quarters on the Ark.

"Come on," he mutters to a delirious Kiernan. He loops the boy's arm around his shoulder and carries half of his weight, every muscle screaming in protest as he stumbles over the uneven ground. The intensity of the fire illuminates the surrounding woods in a faint orange glow. It feels like, after all they've done to survive, they've been sent straight to hell.

Kiernan's added weight slows Ares down, each step a mere quarter of the distance his normal ones would be. His eyes sting from the toxic fumes smothering the air. He has to blink back tears, which only add to his discomfort. He's still fighting that stupid illness and it's making him weak. If they're attacked out here, they're goners.

The further away they hobble from the camp, the darker it gets. The close clusters of trees block out the moonlight and make it nearly impossible to see. Eventually, Ares decides it isn't worth it to keep moving when they can't see a damn thing in front of them. He settles Kiernan against a tree trunk and plops down beside him, puffing an exhausted sigh out of his dry mouth.

Ares' work isn't over. Even though he can't see the state of Kiernan's wound in the lack of lighting, he'd observed enough in the camp to know that it's a nasty one. He pulls the hem of his hoodie up and tears a long strip of his t-shirt. The blond boy cries out in agony when Ares bends his leg to tie the makeshift tourniquet around his thigh and staunch the blood flow. He has to clamp a hand over Kiernan's mouth to prevent any possible attackers from hearing them. His palm quickly gets damp from sweat and Kiernan's tears that roll over his skin.