Carrying the Fire

There was no air left in my lungs to scream after it was knocked right out of me as I was sent flying flat on my back across the forest floor, coughing when I couldn't cry out with the gun and bag digging into my back. Deciphering my attacker through a film of terror, I found myself staring up at a shadow pinning me on my back. The sickle had skittered feet away out of my grasp from being so abruptly winged and was nowhere to be reached. Bucking up in panic, I thrashed my arms up in time to catch the handle of a heavy-edged hatchet that I'd blocked with my forearm only a few inches from bludgeoning down into my face before quickly reaching up to help push back with my other hand. Gritting my teeth from yelping at the effort of trying to hold back the gleaming edge of my this attacker's thick blade, I was sickeningly aware how easily this intended log-splitter could cleave through wood let alone my flesh. Squirming a hand up to try gripping something of this person's face while we wrestled for the weapon, I raked my nails across whatever I could reach before they turned their head away to yell nothing I could distinguish. Finding my breath, I hadn't been aware I'd been screaming until it was smacked clean out of my mouth when he brought a fist down over my cheek to silence my protests. Winded momentarily, I was half-conscious when he wrenched the handle out of my stunned grasp but was fully aware of him beginning to rear up the ax for another strike. Watching wide-eyed as the blade caught a glint of sunlight that escaped the overhead branches as it poised about to bash down over me, I thrashed with frantic urgency, curling away as I saw it flash down to imbed into the dirt hardly an inch from my head. No matter how hard I tried to dismount his knees from digging sharply into my thighs the assailant refused to budge as he cursed down at my struggle, yanking the hatchet back to try a third time. While still flailing hysterically to escape the hovering hatchet, I wasn't as successful when the next time it came down much closer as I was slashed with white-hot pain into my shoulder- dangerously close to my neck. A strangled screech scratched my throat at the foreign object plunged in my shoulder as a scalding heat paralyzed me, shooting down my whole arm and up into my neck. Feeling almost consumed by such an intense pain and a roaring terror, I could have ruptured with despair at such an impending end. Oh God, this is how I'm going out, I thought mortified. Hacked up like a Biter in the woods. Like the dead mother lying beside me. Inconsiderate of my engulfing anguish, the ax-edge was dislodged from my flesh in a harsh yank, causing me to tearfully wail the first panicked thought in my head as he raised it back up-
"Please- I'm pregnant!"
It was never a tactic I used; I was always so careful to conceal any evidence of my protruding bump because it seemed pregnancy just gave off too much of a helpless impression that instigated those who preyed and took advantage of the lingering weak. Men like Philip didn't give a damn who anyone was standing inbetween their means of survival. But I took a shot in the dark and attempted to appeal to this stranger's better nature, because at this point, helpless was what I was. The hatchet was stilled momentarily, poised to swing down over my head in a shuddering grip. At a pause, I was able to find the assaulter's gaze could finally make out the dark face of the man who had ambushed me. But I didn't have much time to think over what he looked like before his hands returned to encircle their grip around my neck, tightly squeezing down over my throat. My heart leapt up in my wind pipe, fear pressing tears into my eyes as I desperately tried to pry his hands off with my free hands, pounding my fists down on his arms and digging at the fingers clutching at me, hissing against the searing in my shoulder and the air being throttled out from me.
"You with them?" he shouted in my face, a feral glint in his dark eyes as he emphasized each word with a tight squeeze, hardly letting me gasp out an answer while he shook me by the throat like a rag doll. "Are you with them?!"
"N-no- please," I wheezed while trying to choke back air between his constricting hands, my legs still kicking and my body writhing underneath him. "I'm not with anyone!"
With a disdainful curse, he let go of my throat and I was finally allowed to cough and heave a gaspful of air, my hands reached instinctually to nurse my compressed wind pipe. The hatchet fell back down and I shuddered at the resounding thud that shook the ground, unable to prevent a scream of unrestrained fear and my arms flailed out in front of me in a last pathetic attempt to shield myself from a mortal pummeling. But when I peeked open my eyes after a moment of nothing, the blade was sheathed into the earth beside my face where I'd shrunk away from the befalling weapon. The man was breathing almost as heavily as I was, though mine were more like pants distorted by sobs I was trying to suppress against the pain churning with a pulsating terror through my every fiber. I involunarily flinched when he brought his hand down towards me, leaning back on my thighs to place it over my stomach through the jacket that had bunched up over the curve of my abdomen in my thrashing, revealing only an old shirt of mine I wore underneath that had now tightened around my midriff and showed a sliver of skin. Shrinking away like a cowardly animal, my breathing was loud as I whimpered and gulped for air cowering against this man's almost tenative hand that rested over my stomach for a moment, as if inspecting the evidence to determine if I really was telling the truth.
After retracting his hand, he sunk back on his heels, exhaustion shadowing his features before he picked the hatchet back up, retreating to rise to his feet but never letting his eyes linger from my movements. Every muscle in my body was shaking at the intensity of pain radiating up my shoulder, but fear was much more overpowering as I scrambled back the second his weight released off my legs. Scurrying on my back, I had to grit my teeth as my shoulder was jostled but hissed through the strain to sling the gun that had been pinned under my back around to aim back at the man who had just been moments from axing into me like I was some Biter. This seemed to straighten the man's posture as his glare blackened, if that was even possible, and his grip over the handle of his hatchet tightened in what must be resentment at relinquishing his advantage so easily. Now able to get a better look at my attacker, I noticed his dark-toned skin was slick with sweat and those wild eyes of his made me recoil back from their intimidating animosity and inwardly winced at seeing blood mixing with the man's perspiration that was now running down the side of his face from scratches I had given him. Flickering over his appearance briefly, it threw me to see he was wearing a sun-bleached looking cobalt jumpsuit- penitentiary clothing, remembering the familiar attire I used to see my mother wearing if I ever visited her while she did time.
My arm quaked under the weight of the rifle, causing me to heavily support my aim with my other arm holding the barrel which was hardly steadier due to stuttering breathes I was trying to allow adrenaline soothe my mettle. Feeling warmth trickle out onto my torn jacket to soak into the already scuffed and dirtied fabric, it dripped down my arm under my sleeve. I knew I hardly looked the imagine of intimidation but I felt prepared to shoot this motherfucker who would've bashed me over the head like some log for a camp fire only a moment ago. But he didn't. I willed my hands to just press the trigger already, but the sudden whisper over my thoughts stilled my hand like it had against the doe and her fawn. He hadn't let me get up for the chase by the looks of his rugged state, so I hesitated to wonder if he had been about to spare me. The way I had shown mercy to the mother and her offspring.
"Put it down," I rasped, hearing how husky my voice sounded gritting against the profound discomfort stretching all the way down to shake my fingers straining on the trigger. Though I attempted to play the part anyways, motioning with the end of my gun for him to throw it from reach. I could see his jaw tightening as his glare bore into me as frighteningly as the ax he'd bludgeoned into my shoulder, unnerving me even if he had just exposed a hint of humanity. Slowly, it seemed to ache him to lower his weapon until he eventually tossed it, but not nearly as far as I'd wanted him to. My stomach twisted to see the blunt end streaked by my own blood.
"I'm not with anyone," I breathed again, willing my voice to refrain from breaking. "I-I don't care about you, man. Just leave."
Gulping back my pleading tone anxiously, I saw his eyes flickering back and forth between me and the shaking rifle; a predator assessing if I was prey. Narrowing my eyes, I forced myself to clench the gun tighter to my injured shoulder, stilling my aim and finger positioned to squeeze over the trigger as I sat up straighter. Grinding my teeth to suppress the pain that tugged at my arm when I rushed to clamber back up on my feet, but I never astrayed the barrel of my rifle too far away from the direction of this stranger as I found my footing against the wooziness that spun my head for a moment. His eyes seemed to grow wilder at my rise, noting the way his hand twitched for the surrendered weapon. I braved to take a step forward meant to be threatening, remembering how Todd, Merle, or even Philip used to stand so unshakably between nothing but death or bullets uncountable times and tried to draw from that type of strength. This seemed to yield him for the moment, his gaze flashing to the finger I was tightening against the trigger.
"I ain't leavin' 'til I get what's mine," he countered menacingly. This stilled me with a horrible shiver before I realized he wasn't focused on me but the ripped open deer next to us. My eyebrow arched in revulsion, but to be honest, I couldn't care what kind of request he made, as long as it didn't include me cleaved in half.
"It's infected," I exclaimed before internally kicking myself. "But by all means take it, it's your's."
Now back on my feet, I located the sickle tossed across the grass out of the corner of my eye not too far from us. Testing my authority, I took a few side steps towards the discarded weapon, never relenting my sight from the man at the end of my scope At my movement, he took his own step closer to the hatchet, stilling the both of us as I gesticulated another warning with my gun. A common language everyone seemed to understand these days. Like a tantalizing dance, we both tried to edge closer to our weapons lying on the grass, testing how much ground the other would let go. Pain was flaring through my arm and I was no fool to believe I'd be able to support the gun with my firing arm alone if I bent down to retrieve my sickle.
"You know what kinda gun this is?" I was afraid this guy hadn't even heard my ghost of a voice that sounded hardly louder than a whisper, but I cleared my throat and attempted to continue. "It's semi-automatic."
Our eyes locked again at this; his glistened with vehemence and I knew he regretted his moment of weakness to spare me. Internally, I felt a little guilty turning on such a gesture, but was still pissed he'd just been about to kill me. And the last part of Todd would have extinguished with me.
"Fires off a single round," I muttered, nipping at the inside of my lip to glare at his hand twitch down for the hatchet that must be beckoning as loud as mine. "Or I can unclip a whole mag if it comes down to it."
This stilled him for a moment, but not his gaze as we both eyed each other silently, only the shake of my heavy breathing could be heard amongst the suddenly silent forest as I stared back through the lens of the M16 while trying to contain the prickling tears in the corners of my eyes against the pain radiating through me. I knew I sounded far from threatening, but it seemed I sent the message adequately enough as he stopped to glare over at my intent.
"Do it then," he snapped back, catching me off guard with his indifferent frustration. "Bitch, you even know how to pull that trigger?"
Shaking off my confoundment to glare back, I grimaced at probably having to pull the trigger on this guy considering how doubtful he was regarding me-
But what I hadn't predicted was how suddenly he would retaliate, lunging for his weapon first. Started, I sputtered to react and fired off a shot, but my aim was thwarted when I had to dive out of the way as he lurched for me, his hatchet hurling down into the earth I had just been standing in. Hissing at my miserably aching shoulder while I rolled across the grass to escape anymore hacking, I scrambled to flip back around before he could raise his weapon to attempt another swing, my finger holding the trigger down on his ass. Cartridge shells littered the ground in my rapid fire, but with such a jarring kick back against my arm I couldn't hold up for long before I felt my grip about to give way with every jerk against my shoulder, my aim lowering feebly as I attempted following him skirting behind a nearby tree. Eventually, my finger released it's hold on the trigger as I tried searching out what had become of my attacker through the gun powder and smoke fogging up the forest clearing. Hesitant at the sudden disappearance, I shakily snatched up the discarded sickle and hurried back to my feet.
About to make a run for it through the smoke, I heard the footsteps before I even turned around to see the dark assailant charging my way, his hatchet already in mid swing. Stumbling back at what seemed to have been my last possible second, I witnessed the blunt edge gleam past my face close enough to feel the wisp of air it emitted across my cheeks. The power of this man's swings were heavy and fortunately slow, giving me the advantage of time after parrying his strike to bolt past him, jumping over the deer carcass while he uprooted the heavy blade. Knowing I was in no position to fight off this asshole, I knew escaping was my best chance and it was what I knew best; but running was much more exhausting than I had anticipated when my shoulder pulled achingly with every stride. Half-hazardly turning back mid-sprint, I shot off a few more shots, not bothering to aim too accurately but hoping maybe I'd get a stray shot in or at least deter him from pursuing me further. Only hearing my heartbeat ringing against the waves of blood rushing in my ears and my breathless panting, the forest was silenced no doubt by the sudden gun shots which made my stumbling footsteps all the louder- also allowing me to hear approaching, distinctive groans.
"Fuck!" I cursed miserably. My previous gun fire must have beckoned the dead- and the scent of fresh blood in the air was another mortifying thought. Trembling feverishly, I wasn't sure if it was from the terror of this close encounter, my gaping shoulder, or the enclosing Biters, but I had to gulp back a consuming panic so I could think straight enough. Trying to keep from slowing my pace considering I was still being chased, I raised the rifle to try picking off those closest in my path of escape, popping off a shot into one's clavicle and another skimmed through a cheek before I finally steadied my aim enough to land a head shot. Cartridge shells trailed behind me as I ran, picking off a few others but hating how much ammo I was wasting trying to land kill shots with every tendon and ligament in my arm screaming. With my right arm hardly able to hold the gun still and raised, I was doubtful I'd be able to even wield the sickle against Biters beginning to wander towards the source of the commotion, having to resign to such a loud defense. Glancing back, I was brought to an abrupt stop at seeing the man who had just previously been charging at me like some psycho lumberjack, had halted a ways back and was staring wide-eyed toward the oncoming undead.
Our eyes caught each other's again- and my jaw dropped as I watched him begin to take a step back, retracting his weapon before turning to sprint back into the woods and yell out over his shoulder. "Shit lady- you on'ya own!"
His pale faded-blue jumpsuit disappeared into the forest's shadows, not sparing me a second glance back. Leaving me alone at the head of these converging corpses. Securing the retrieved sickle through my belt, I reared the rifle back up and took aim. It was sloppy shooting, but I managed to kill a few before my shoulder begun to seize too painfully to keep up, turning to high tail it back the direction I'd watched my attacker run in, but veered off west instead to avoid any retaliation he could still be out for. My fingertips were tingling with a numbness I kept trying to clench out of my grip as I ran, reaching my left hand to squeeze over my pulsating shoulder to support against every movement that tore at my open wound. While trying to run back towards the safety of my tree, willing to ride out a mob amongst the treetops, but as I tried making my way south I could see more drawing from the woods blocking my desired route and there were too many to pick away for me to run through. Pushed further west, I decided to run back the direction I'd come from earlier this morning, remembering the highway this way littered with nothing but abandoned or crashed cars.
Using my technique from the raid a few weeks ago, I attempted to dwindle the numbers of those pursuing behind me, weaving throughout the woodland and picking away a few at a time; however, unlike the previous time, I didn't have my advantage of quiet artillery and wasn't nearly as fast due to the pull of fatigue weighing heavier from blood loss. I shook my head to try clearing some of the blurring edges of my vision, trees and brush smearing past me while I huffed past another dizzy spell that confused my equilibrium and threatened to overwhelm me as I ran. Reaching out, I knocked against the closest tree to clench it's bark lethargically keeping my feet from fumbling underneath me. Catching a glimpse of my hand after it pulled away from my shoulder, I saw blood soaked over my fingers and was disconcerted by how much must be gushing to streak them so heavily in crimson. However, this did incite an idea as I began to wipe my slick hand off on the tree's bark I supported myself against, uncaring about the scrape under my palms while staining the trunk. Reaching out almost blindly among the haze of landscape swirling around me, I felt myself fall against the next tree I could cling to. Pressing my hand back over my shoulder, I could feel the warmth of more blood seeping through torn flesh and re-soaked my fingers to bring them back up to smudge across another tree. Continuing to slop blood across various other trees I collapsed against, I gathered up my remaining loose threads of my strength and pushed forward, trudging one foot in front of the other to spur myself ahead of the advancing dead. It felt very much like climbing, pulling myself from one tree trunk to the next tree with my good arm, so much so that the ground had to remind me I was running rather than up in the treetops. Glimpsing over my shoulder at the hungry, I blanched at seeing a few had stopped at the blood-soiled trees, clawing and batttling against each other with the same attraction to such fresh fluid and lapped ravenously at the traces of my injury. Those who couldn't get through the crowds or felt I was a better prospect continued after me, but I at least definitely slowed up the dense dead.
Forcing myself to push through the fog of my consciousness, I attempted to keep track of my markings amongst the swirl of my surroundings and it came down to following the shadow of a little girl to lead my way. I couldn't see her any better amongst the blur of everything else, but it was the whisper that beckoned me after her silhouette. Keep going, Olive. You have to keep going. The forest floor beneath my poorly functioning feet eventually turned to pavement as I began to realize Penny (or so I guessed?) was leading me towards the highway. At some point I became aware I'd stopped running and was now resting my head against the trunk of a car I hadn't realized I'd laid against to catch my breath. Still aware of my condition, I knew I was feeling the cold grasp of hypovolemic shock threatening to overtake my body, my impaired strength being an obvious sign my blood pressure was dropping- which meant I had to hurry and treat this wound before it took us down with it.
Us.
Digging my hand into my shoulder, I goaded myself to keep moving- this time using my hand to press up against the wound but to prevent anymore blood from dripping along after me. My heartbeat was still fast in my ears, but nowhere as loud. I had to just keep remembering there was an us instead of I. It was unpreventable that my wounded arm should jostle excruciatingly, but I crouched as carefully as my rush would permit below an abandoned car parked to the side and squirmed under to reach for the gas tank underneath, thumping it to hear a disappointing hollowness. Fortunate to have found the traffic snarl I had passed up earlier, I proceeded to search the vehicles as quickly as my tender shoulder would allow to shuffle in and out underneath the abandoned vehicles. Hearing the distant growls, I scrambled out from under another dry-tanked Toyota and hurried to pick off the oncoming crowd beginning to find their way on the highway road. Wincing under each shot, I hurried to the next few cars, anxious to find one that hadn't either been run dry or siphoned by now between picking off a few more of the crowd, tempted into pelting the front lines with a minute long of rounds. It was a few cars later inbetween controlling the numbers of dead still approaching from the distance did I shake around the fuel tank of a Dodge Intrepid to hear a soft swish of gas. Stumbling quickly back to my feet, I fired off a few more rounds before ripping open the car door. Luckily, the door was already unlocked, but after skimming around the visor and checking the center console, there was no trace of any key left behind. Flicking my knife out so nervously it almost fumbled in my fingers, I pushed back the driver's seat as far as it would go so I could shimmy under the steering wheel and I wasted no expense ripping open the plastic panels from underneath the steering wheel to reveal the ignition cylinder inside to get a look at the interior wiring. I inarticulately tried to grasp at what I'd could remember being taught (another skill I ruefully admit I'd picked up from Merle) and tugged down on the wiring until I pulled loose the red and brown coloured wires that I guessed were the power and starter cables. With my knife, I snipped them free from the cylinder and stripped off the insulation at the ends, baring the metal wiring inside for each before twisting the two red wires together. Smirking in relief I must be doing it right, I heard the static of the radio hum through the car and peeked up too see the dashboard's lights and gages come to life signaling the power at least was on.
Crawling back out from the car, careful not to touch any dangerously exposed wires, I felt my fleeting reprieve plummet at how ginormous of a distance the Biters had crossed up the highway while I'd been caught up with getting the car to start. Able to at least aim more accurately at their range, I fired off a few more rounds that were able to connect with a small number of skulls before I suddenly pulled on the trigger to feel my magazine was empty. A bone rattling turmoil gripped my innerards, dejectedly chucking the gun on the passenger seat to hurry back under the dash, I had a spare clip in my bag but I hadn't the time to dig it out. Grasping the brown wires hastily, I touched them delicately to the other matching pair and held my breath as I heard the struggle of the starter attempting to turn over. Gnawing my lower lip fiercely, I pulled them back to give the vehicle a break to prevent straining the engine too severely before attempting again. The car rumbled and squawked until finally the engine purred on, choking me with relief as I tried to hurry and sit up so I could close the door. Midway of hauling myself up, I felt a startling grasp take ahold of my foot, dragging me abruptly from the car to hit pavement underneath. Unable to help a startled yelp, I saw a Biter had came up fast enough and tried to wrench my foot from it's hold, desperately avoiding it's teeth that tried to follow my flailing limb. Seeing a shadow of another Biter approaching not to far behind, I reared up the pocket-knife I still had in my hand to feebly impale it through it's forehead, not quite centered considering it was aimed with my left hand since my right arm had barely been able to twist wires together. Wheezing a last rattling breath of air, the Biter's body collapsed heavily over me and groaned when I tried pushing it's weight off my raw shoulder. Scrambling from under the decaying body, I hastily yanked the blade back out as the one approaching close behind had all but flung himself ontop of the corpse to claw madly for my already bleeding flesh. Fisting the small blade, I stabbed it vehemently through the former woman's eye, causing her to slump down on the previous body as well. Kicking them off contemptuously, I scurried into the drivers seat and closed the door behind me. Cringing at my close timing when the thump of infected knocked and scratched on the car door I just shut. I could see two had tried rushing after me to find the blood I'd left smeared across the door handle, rapturously lapping at what they could get while others hurried to clamber over them after me.
Taking the gear out of park, I hurried to peel out but the huddling mob of Biters that had been chasing me through the forest were now crowded around all sides and even trying to climb over the hood at the windshield towards me.
"Goddamnit!" I hollered in a desperate frustration at the cars lack of acceleration through the huddle of bodies it was attempting to nudge through. "Motherfuckers- move!"
Smashing my foot down on the gas, I could hear the screech of tires attempting to catch up with how fast they were instructed to turn before the vehicle finally lunged forward, running right over a couple other's that had been in my way. The car jerked about, considering this wasn't some huge car to be plowing over bodies to begin with, but veered forward enough to shake the mob of dead trying to accumulate after me on the highway. All but the one Biter clinging on to the hood of the car was remaining, snarling after me behind the windshield. When I was far enough away from the crowd, I braked harshly and vindictively watched the still-animated corpse fly off the hood before I hurried to drive past it. There wasn't too much of a traffic snarl from this part of the highway I had found, so I only had to offroad the vehicle twice and drive through a few compact crevices through the mass of abandoned cars before the road cleared up only a few miles away from Griffin according to the rusted, unused freeway signs.
As I drove, my motorskills such as trying to breath and blink were becoming difficult, having to shake the weary cloud hovering over my consciousness a couple times while behind the wheel. Now that adrenaline was beginning to taper off, I was feeling dizzier trying to focus on the road. Finally I was able to pull off the highway and into the town I had just left no more than a few hours ago, I remembered which road I had taken last time and pulled off onto the dirt trail leading out of town. Pulling around the back of this familiar daycare-converted house, I carefully pulled the wires apart underneath the steering wheel to silence the engine of the car and save what gas was remaining. Hobbling my way out, I glanced around briefly and was grateful the dead hadn't been able to follow me this far out. Making my way to the front, I wedged open the gate and proceeded towards the back door I had left unlocked from my last visit. Stumbling rather noisily inside, I warily regarded the deserted playroom and shuffled down the hallway towards the arts and crafts room I remembered seeing earlier had a mirror. Practically collapsing in front of the long mirror set up against the wall, I slid off the backpack strap from my good shoulder and let it fall to the floorboards with a dull thud from the supplies I collected from this place. Shrugging off my coat and backpack as carefully as I could manage, I examined my still weeping gash.
It could have been worse. While inspecting the abrasion in my shoulder through the reflection of the mirror, I could see my skin had a wide slit through the flesh and muscle- but my attacker's aim must have been off for it seemed he must have just skimmed the top of my shoulder rather than hacking it clean through like it seemed to feel had happened. Horrifyingly close to my neck, I had to be thankful to some overseeing power to have avoided slicing an artery. My shoulder could have easily been fractured, or at least chipped by the force he was putting behind his swings, but the way my shoulder was still able to maneuver indicated my bones were unbroken for the most part. Unzipping my bag and pulling out the small first aid supply I'd been able to take from this house earlier, I hurriedly popped off the cap of peroxide, releasing my wounds long enough to pour over the laceration that gushed the second I relieved pressure. Trying to muffle my yelp of pain, I pounded the knuckles belonging to my good arm into the floorboards and writhed as silently as I could control myself against the burn of disinfectant. Panting from the singe of the peroxide, I attempted stuffing as much gauze and wrapping layers of bandages I'd collected to attempt to stem the blood loss. A sickening stain continued to steadily soak through the bandages into a gaping puddle that I had to continuously keep adding more layers of gauze, burning through a substantial amount I'd only just acquired. But even as I tried to contain the bleeding, just the sight of the sopping bandages sent my head reeling and I had to pause and lean back, squeezing my eyes closed until the spinning subsided.
When I peeked my eyelids back open to see if the room had stopped turning, I nervously squinted down at my lap; there was no indication of any other bleeding, an assuring sign this trauma hadn't instigated a miscarriage. I knew that if I couldn't clot this bleeding soon I would inevitably go into shock- for sure causing irreparable damage and would most certainly take my life it. Merle flashed across my thoughts yet again; it was far too many times that I cared to admit, but I couldn't help but remember the way we'd first come across the dismembered redneck. Cauterizing his own wound had astounded me, not just because it was a gruesome wound but at how horrendously desperate he'd been to willingly subject himself to such a severity of pain to survive. Most men would have gone into shock that would have killed them, but searing his amputated hand had ultimately saved his life. Looking at my own predicament, I was ironically in a similar situation, at the mercy of bleeding out and alone. At least I'd avoided dismemberment. A shaking, bloody hand reached down to clutch the bulge that I vigilantly kept concealed now seemed much more prominent without my jacket's usual protection. Dragging my eyes from my shoulder, I observed my figure through the mirror and realized this was the first time I actually saw my growing stomach. It was a hell of a lot different to process feeling the lump with my hands or looking down at it's discreet growth through my shirts than staring back at the clear reflection of my transformed body from a third-person's perspective. A weak sob escaped me rather unexpectedly, and it stemmed from a much deeper ache within my chest rather than my arm.
"Not like this," I tearfully breathed, sniffing back a mournful moan. "We can't end like this."
And it was then that I decided what I had to do.
Uncaring that I was getting blood over the other items in my bag, I rummaged towards the bottom to reach the emergency supplies I usually tried to keep with me while I was out. Incase I was ever in a situation such as this. Pulling out the spare magazine and pushing past water bottles, a few packed rations, and bolt cutters, I reach the desired pair of plyers and a lighter that barely had any fluid left. Wiping my slippery red hands off on my pants, I pried out a bullet from the clip before carefully holding the selected cartridge between my thumb, index and middle fingers. Reaching for the plyers, I concentrated cautiously on keeping my hands steadier so I could unscrew the shell after dropping it at few times, finally loosening the shell from it's seal as I unscrewed the top all the way and discarded it to reveal the ash-like gunpowder remaining inside. Dropping everything else but the dust-powder between my fingertips, I nervously glanced back at myself through the mirror, unbearably anxious at the turn of events this could lead me in; I was about to chance down such a risky road there and there would be no going back from. And if I didn't come back...would I be in any position to care? Discarding that last discouraging thought, I grabbed my knife to splice the sleeve of my shirt up to the collar. Taking a deep shaky breath to prepare myself, for I would have to pull this off as quickly as possible to avoid too much more heavy bleeding. I peeled back the material with the layering bandages, unable to help but cry feebly at a few fibers that dried against the wound already. Grabbing the bandana stuffed in my pocket, I stuffed it between my teeth before scooting back up against the mirror so I could still see, I pressed my shoulder up against the reflective glass and hissed into the cloth as I tried to push the torn skin and muscle as close as possible together. Delicately shaking on the powder, I tried to apply most to it to the edges of the abrasion before shaking the rest down the middle of the laceration that was still weeping blood and smearing up on my reflection. Letting the empty shell fall to the floor, I grabbed the lighter with my arm still pressed against the mirror and looked between my open wound glaring blearily up at me and my rounded belly stretching underneath my blouse. Reminding myself what I was doing this all for gave me the last whim of strength to flick on the lighter and touch the small flame to the wound, instantly catching aflame.
I saw the flash of fire from the corner of my eyes through the mirror, but my vision whitened into a scalding oblivion, blinding me from anything else. My body convulsed and I felt myself fall back on the floor to writhe under the agony exploding through every nerve from my fingertips down into my curling toes. Senseless to how quiet I should have been, I was scarcely aware of my feet pounding against the floorboards in my blind catatonic state to bear this intolerable burning.
Hardly able to articulate a coherent thought as this point, I faintly felt the back of my fall and tilt to the side as I panted and sobbed unrestrained into the bandana still in my mouth. The cool of the wood floor soothed my cheek and was the last sensation I remembered alleviating my consciousness.

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"I can't believe you two!"
Startling the room at my sister's fists slamming across the tabletop, Nat shoved her chair back and bolted up from her seat. Her pale viridian glare was startling to see deflected towards our dad; she'd mastered it quite well towards our mother the past year after she'd moved back in and the two were constantly butting heads. Things had been rocky the first couple months and it seemed things had just finally begun to level out in an actual semblance of normalcy in our house. That was until our parents decided to sit us across the dinning room table and inform us a new baby brother or sister was impending an addition to our family.
It was actually my dad explaining while Rhian sat silently observing us with a reserved expression.
I looked wearily over at my hot-headed sister and wished she could be a pinch more tactful; I felt just as disappointed by this news but at least had consideration enough for our dad to bite my tongue.
"I'm already fourteen-years-old and Olive's almost thirteen-"
"Natalie," my dad interrupted my sister's rant and I didn't miss his sudden sharpness. "You remember who you're talking to."
It was a reminder and a warning. As quickly as Nat could fly into a temper, she deflated just as immediately at recognizing our dad's tone, but failed to quiet her trembling fists she thrust down at her sides.
"People have babies all the time at our age, and yes, you'll have quite'a age gap between you guys but that's hardly something to be upset about," he tried reasoning, much more gently this time but Nat refused to be consoled as she shook her head.
"No. What's upsetting is she's-" Thrusting an accusing finger at our mom across the table. "-gunna pop out another kid and leave it on you and gramma-"
"Natalie-"
"Again, dad!"
"Natalie stop-"
My dad and sister's argument abruptly silenced when my mother reached over to settle her spiderly-thin hand over my dad's that had been clenching the table's edge, it was with such a softness I rarely saw come from Rhian and seemed to collectively surprise us all at the gesture.
"It's alright Max," my mother coaxed. I'd hardly ever saw the storm of Rhian's gaze so quieted like it was now when she traced the curve on our dad's hand. "She's gotta' grudge. Let her say what she's gotta' say."
This paused the room as everyone seemed to await what I suspected would be a uncensored rant from my sister. But our mother's disinclination to be prodded into an argument seemed to bewilder Nat into silence as she stared over at our parents' conjoined hands. After our whole lives of trial and error between these two, it was always disheartening to see rare displays of affection between my parents whenever they were brought back together. It never failed to entail breaking my father's heart another time every time Rhian left and distancing himself when he was really just trying to hide the hurt from us.
We all stared expectantly back at Nat who seemed to stumble under the sudden freedom of speaking until she unexpectedly whipped her gaze over at me- like I was supposed to be backing her up on this. Instead, I felt my cheeks flush as I shrunk in my seat and avoided my older sister's hurt glare. As much as I agreed with Nat, I couldn't bring myself to say such cruel things to my dad when he was looking at me so apologetically from across the table. Steering my gaze down to burn a hole in my lap since there wasn't anything I wanted to add, my cold silence was enough of a rejection to send Nat stomping out from the room, hearing her march out to the front porch and slamming the screen behind her, shutting the front door even louder.
None of us really knew what else to say to each other, and not wanting to be left alone in a discussion with my parents, I slowly got up as well.
"Can I be excused?" I murmured, keeping my eyes downcast, still not wanting to see the look on my dad's face.
With a heavy sigh from across the table, he seemed to except this was the end of our discussion for now. "Yeah babygirl, go 'head."
Before turning to slide my chair back in, I caught Rhian's gaze flash over at my dad as he excused me, but I didn't want to linger to understand it's meaning before I hurried up the stairs to my bedroom. Knowing what Nat intended to do outside, I turned over the engraved conch shell on my bookshelf that I'd bought about a couple months ago from Venice (I'd explained to my dad a friend had brought it back as a gift while on holiday), the carving of a turtle meant to decorate the plum and egg-white shell. Nat was never well known for her discreetness, so my dad sneakishly emptied out any hiding spot she ever tried to use in her room, so I kept to storing things much more inconspicuously in mine. Shaking loose the mini-bic I had stored inside it's interior, I pocketed the lighter and headed back downstairs, practically jogging past my parent's still in the dinning room to avoid their inquisitive stare. Opening the front doors, I closed them a lot softer than Nat before leading myself down the porch steps to round the side of the house where we stored our trash cans. Inbetween the green-colored wall of our house and the bushes dividing our lawn from the neighbor's, Nat had a cigarette clenched between her lips that she was frustratedly trying to light with her white bic I knew was pretty much out while trying to cup her other hand around it to try shielding a spark. Usually she'd wait until night to creep out here and pluck from her stash she kept hidden under the porch steps, but I doubted either my dad or Rhian would come out here to prod the bull any further to see what she was up to out here.
Stepping forward to make my presence known, Nat only glanced up briefly before returning to shaking her lighter and tried again to flick on a flame, her eyebrows knitting together in annoyance at my company. I brushed my hand over the wheel of the one in my palm so she hear the flicker of what I'd brought with me, doing the trick to get her attention when she looked back up and raised an eyebrow at me- if not a sign she was our mother's daughter, I didn't know what was. Walking closer, I flicked on my almost new light to hold up for my venting sister who had reclined to lower her hands and let me spark her cigarette. I knew from school and outside influences that it was wrong for Nat to be smoking as often as she did and was never too fond of how fast my sister had picked up her smoking habit (not that I didn't join her from time to time), but a lit cigarette was so common in our house that I never protested too loud about us being underage.
We remained quiet for a while, Nat and I finding our familiar spot leant up against the house while she inhaled her Pall Mall, offering me a few drags which I decided couldn't hurt any at a time like this. I knew Nat must still be upset I hadn't stuck up for her, yet n unspoken but mutual understanding settled our nerves around each other; it was still us against the world- just now we could prepare for an addition.
"I'm never having kids."
I looked over at her exhaling a breath of smoke before taking another drag right after.
"Don't say that Natty, you'd have the prettiest babies," I exclaimed, pinching the skin of her elbow reassuringly to try and lighten her mood.
"What for? So they can grow up messed up too," Nat grumbled under her breath.
Not knowing what to say to a comment like that, I stared down at my scuffed up high-tops. Nat had such a sullen, almost bitter attitude we had thought had just been a phase but now seemed persistent these last couple years and I kept finding her pessimistic musings harder to relate to.
"Oh Ollie," my sister sighed, tapping her sandal over my foot. "I wasn't talking about you- you're perfect."
Smiling up at my sister's rare change of mood, she was smiling affectionately over at me before offering me another drag from her cigarette that I declined. I never really had a cigarette unless Nat lit up, and only then I never finished my own. Shrugging, she tapped her finger to ash the end before bringing it back up to inhale another drag of nicotine, looking thoughtful as she eyed the smoke she breathed out through her nose this time in a sigh. I noted my sister was only a freshman in high school this year and already smoking like she'd been for years.
"Guess you're not gunna be the baby anymore," she finally scoffed, attempting to smirk and make like she hadn't just landed herself in hot water with my dad once we went back inside.
"You're only a year older than me," I defended an ongoing argument we'd had as long as I could remember.
"Two until July lil' sis," Nat teased, shaking her fingers at me that had her cigarette pinched between. Rolling my eyes at my sister's favorite technicality, I giggled with her for a moment befoce we lapsed back into contemplative silence.
"Can you just imagine? By the time this baby grows up, mom and dad'll be almost fifty," she muttered after a while. "And we'll be in our thirties by then! It's just- weird."
"Eeesh," I winced, not having thought about our parent's pregnancy this far through. I was anxious just to join my sister in high school the following year- let alone fathom my life almost twenty years from now."That sounds so old and forever from now."
"Yeah. It does."
"Y'know she's stayed all this time, and daddy's been so much happier... maybe it'll be different with the baby?" I tried to softly encourage when I glanced over at Nat smothering the butt of her cigarette underneath her sandals. Nothing would have looked out of place to me if I hadn't caught the quiver in her lips while she tried to concentrate on ashing the embers at the end of the filter, obviously unconvinced.
"Like with us?" she seemed to grind out between her clenched jaw. Heaving a long sigh, she quietly opened the lid of our trashbin to toss in the extinguished cigarette remains before closing it inconspicuously, taking her time before eyeing me over warily. "Ollie...I know you don't like to remember a lot of stuff, and dad and gramma always try to cover for her...but she's cut and run from us- a lot. And now gramma's not around anymore to pick up the pieces this time."
My mood sunk heavily in the pit of my stomach at the mention of our grandmother who had died about two years ago but still felt so very fresh to me. Meredith Somerset was too strict for my sister to appreciate her love the way I did; she reminded me a lot of our dad, but I remember feeling a warmth in her arms that I never felt from anyone else. However, the topic of our grandma had become a taboo conversation ever since our mother moved back in, making it all the more upsetting sometimes.
"I'm never having kids," Nat repeated in all seriousness. "I'd never leave someone I love the way she leaves us."
Neither of us knew then, but in four years this would be a fictitious promise. And unlike our mother, she rarely ever came back.

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The shattering of glass was what startled me out of an unconsciousness I hadn't even realized I'd fallen in, but before I could contemplate any meaning of the memory I'd just vividly had, a flood of pain reminded me where I was. Choking to pull back some air, I scrambled to sit up at the sound of more glass splintering and breaking, ironically smacking into the mirror that I'd been using earlier and hearing it's own crack as I pressed heavily against the wall. When I tried to reach my arm up to grab something that could help pull me up, another wave of light-headedness almost washed completely over me, tempting to drag me back under it's current but hurried to lower myself back down to the ground and wait out the dizziness. When I felt level-headed enough, I edged my hand over to the rifle I had dropped next to me, hurrying to reach and reload the clip.
While fumbling to reattach the clip, my knees shivered and bent up towards my chest so I could position the rifle steady without having to support it with my throbbing arm that seemed to be the prominent factor keeping me lucid other than fear. When I finally cocked the magazine into the rifle, I froze at the sounds of footsteps coming from the front room, my knees uncontrollably quaking at the prospect of the dead having gotten inside. A tear drop away from sobbing at the combination of everything that was happening to me, I felt like a terrorized animal with no where to go, possibly having caught myself in a snare inside this house. I only had around thirty rounds left, having left the majority of what ammo I tried to conserve back up in the tree all the way near the stream, and if I had to pop off rounds to protect myself here in this little corner of the house I would only be able to remain for so long.
It was then I heard more footfalls from down the hall and I wished I had closed the door behind me when I'd staggered in. The way these steps were muted and careful, I was instantly alert these couldn't be the clumsy dead. I should've known this place couldn't be left so untouched for this long, even it was far from the highway. I aligned up the barrel of the rifle as efficiently as my shaking knees would allow and positioned it facing the door, weaving my fingers through the trigger. Not like this. I repeated to myself and thread together any semblance of fight I still had while there was a breath in me.
There was shuffling of drawers and the clacking of cabinets being searched through no doubt, bracing for when it would be my room's turn. Whispers echoed through the hall as I heard the steps come closer and I could only make out fragments. "...place look like it's already been picked through... no formula up here... was hopin' with the traffic woulda' been less looted... that shopping center north on 85 might have a baby section..."
"Yeah. C'mon 'fore we lose the light, check the back an' we'll head out."
Cursing, I readied my aim and prepared myself for these intruders to come up on me, already hearing knobs being turned and doors creaking open as these people continued to scour the rooms just down the hall. Shuddering at the footsteps coming from the other side of the wall I was pressed against, I sharply snapped my attention back to the door and felt myself involantarily shrink back in frightful anticipation at another pair of steps approaching up the hall. You're strong. You've got to be strong.
A small handgun was what first rounded the doorway before the profile of a woman followed after it, her alert expression distorted by shock as she just as quickly saw my own pointed barrel and flashed her gun in an instant right back at me.
"Drop it!" we both almost simultaneously snarled towards one another. Rearing her gun steadier down at me, she had the higher ground on me but I intended to match her own silent threat with my own when a flash of pain up my arm reminded me of my position and willed myself to bear it without any emotion. I felt myself about to bark another threat for the intruder to lower her weapon when the other pair of footsteps I had almost forgotten about came running down the hall as well.
Dread cemented the bottom of my stomach when the other intruder whipped around the doorway to point a crossbow recognizably in my face, stuttering any protests as my aim was startled back at a pair of narrowed eyes glaring down the lens of his weapon's scope.
"Sum'bitch. Our day just keeps gettin' better now don' it."
That's for sure. Today was just my lucky fucken' day.