Ammunition shells littered the floor, rolling away from the scurrying feet. Guns recoiled, littering the air with the smell of gunpowder and smoke, sending the young female into a fit of coughing. Bullets sailed through the air, ricocheting off the metal walls and beams.
She wouldn't look back, she couldn't look back, the door of time was closing, and closing fast it was. Hundreds of yards of ground diminished by the second, the line between life and death was wearing thin.
Her breathing was deep as she wheezed with every exhale. Pain racked her body as very little air passed through her lungs, she was being choked and she was being drowned at the same time. She could feel the thick concoction of blood and mucus stick in her throat, coating her lungs, refusing to give way.
She could hear their bouts of yelling and whoops of encouragement as if this was a game of tag, one of which grade schoolers would play. Yet this was a more adult version, a more graphic and deadly one in which instead of hands they had guns and instead of tackling one to tap them, a strike from a bullet would do just as well.
The guns sounded. She was sent sprawling across the floor as her feet tripped over each other. Pain blossomed like a flower from her left side. The pain began to spread like venom through her veins, paralyzingly her left side. Entrance wound, no sign of an exit.
Tag, she was it.
Dizziness came in waves sweeping over her. Her head pounded, each time sending a jolt through her body. She could hear the pounding of footsteps, were they real? Were they in her head? She couldn't decipher, mind and reality morphing together.
This happened far too often in the wasteland for Kiyo's taste. Another wanderer who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Here, in a small indent in the ground laid a woman. From the amount of blood, it seemed that the raiders had gotten a lucky shot. Kiyo knew that she shouldn't bother with this, her logic told her that it would be a waste of resources. But before she made the decision, she needed to check one thing.
Kiyo crouched down and placed a gentle pressure on the side of the woman's neck. A soft thumping made itself known, as if calling out to her to save it. No matter how much she tried, she could never refuse.
After ensuring it was just her and her new patient, Kiyo got to work on keeping this woman alive. First step, turn her over. Lying face down like this was probably going to give her a horrific infection. Kiyo hooked her arms under the body, and as soon as she made contact, her arms were coated in the warm red fluid. At this rate, the patient would need a blood pack. Then again, they'd probably need one anyway with how much blood had already stained the ground. The familiar copper smell became more prominent as Kiyo got a better look at the wound. Luckily for this woman, her hand had clasped over the entry hole on the woman's left side.
On Kiyo's right arm was a thick cloth she tied around it, for situations just like this. As soon as the woman's bloody hand was lifted, Kiyo was pressing down on the injury. The cloth went from an off white to a sickly red as it became saturated with blood. She applied more pressure, and soon enough the bleeding slowed to a rate she could handle. At least her patient would last the trip to her clinic. Kiyo stuffed the cloth in the wound for now, seeing as she hadn't thought to pack bandages.
She now faced her new predicament, getting her patient to the clinic. She had attempted to lift the injured woman from under her arms, but found her far too heavy to carry. It didn't help that her patient was taller than her.
Kiyo was never exactly strong, she never needed to be after all. As a medic who took to combat at long range, she never needed to do the heavy lifting. Her job, with whatever group had hired her, was to keep people from bleeding out. And she would say she was rather good at that. Doting on this wouldn't help her now.
She didn't have much time and needed to get someone heavier than her home. Dragging her directly on the ground did about as much good as dumping her in irradiated water. Could she salvage some cloth from somewhere?
That was when she noticed where someone may have been camping, and the stars seemed to align for her. Cloth and a bonus mattress.
Tying her patient loosely with one cloth onto the mattress, she made another knot at the end of the mattress with another cloth under the mattress. Kiyo grasped onto the loose end of the cloth and started to drag her makeshift stretcher home.
Somehow the petite girl was able to get the larger woman onto her operating table. She slowly pulled her cloth out of the wound, placing it on her tray. The bullet wound didn't have an exit hole, meaning she would have to fish it out. Fun. First on the agenda though, was getting a blood pack.
"This is my last O- pack, she'd better be fucking grateful" Kiyo muttered sourly.
Kiyo lifted the limp arm, pushing a needle into an exposed vein. It was then she noticed that she'd lost the pulse.
"Son of a-!"
Before she knew it, she was doing chest compressions, which in hindsight probably wasn't a great idea with that open wound. The woman's rather sizable chest wasn't really helping either. Kiyo probably bruised a rib or two, if they weren't already, but got vitals again.
An exasperated sigh filled the air as metal tools were carefully maneuvered into the hole. The long tweezers slipped for a while, but was finally able to grasp the wet bullet. The bloodied metal pellet made a thunk against her old metal tray where Kiyo placed her blood caked tweezers.
The next felt like routine, stitching the bullet wound and any other stitch worthy wounds. Next came bandaging, the easiest part of it all.
Her patient was all safe and patched up, her chest rising and falling at a somewhat healthy rate. It was at this point Kiyo took the woman's weapons off her. It was a precaution she took after a previous patient had panicked and nearly shot her, that wasn't fun.
Kiyo let herself plop down on a chair next to her cabinets, to say she was exhausted would be an understatement. The entire procedure had taken about three hours. Kiyo was covered in blood and sweat, her legs screamed at her for standing that long. Even her arms complained about the awkward positions she had moved them into. She turned to her sleeping patient, she'd say she did a good job. Although it would hurt like a bitch when they woke up.
"You're one lucky little bitch, you know that?" She said with an amused huff.
And now, was sweet calm and quiet while she waited for this wanderer to awaken.
Rose's eyes refused to open. It was as if someone had glued them shut, leaving her blind to her surroundings.
Am I dead?
She pondered the thought. Her body was sore to the point that it felt numb to pain. She racked her mind for something, anything, to tell her where she was. Raiders, guns, blood. A lot of blood. She couldn't remember much of what happened after she got shot.
I have to be dead. I know I've done some embarrassing things in my life, but being killed by raiders has to be number one.
She could hear something shuffling around within a few feet of her. Mole rat, Feral Ghoul, Rose's mind scattered, gripping onto any thought she could. Raiders, a wild dog- maybe it's not shuffling, but Instead it could be the muffled sound of wings- blood bug, radroach, bloatfly.
Rose's heart beat quickened, she was blind and numb, not the best state to be in.
Why couldn't I be dead? God damnit!
Rose couldn't help but groan, forcing her eyes open as she grabbed her gun, pointing it at the creature In front of her. Her body ached with pain as she took a sharp breath.
It was a few moments until Rose realized that in her hand filled air, which she pointed threateningly. And the creature which had been shuffling about was no creature at all. For it was a human. Female, but in the wasteland you can't be too sure who people made themselves out to be.
She stood at about 5'3" or 5'4". Rose's eyes narrowed on a scar which trailed down her left cheek. Like all scars there was a story behind each and everyone of them. Of course, having no idea who she is nor where she was, Rose panicked.
"Where is my gun? Who the fuck are who? Where am I?" Rose's throat was raw, and her voice was cracking after every few syllable. The metallic taste crawled up her throat and spread over her tongue.
What did she do to me?
Rose's body cursed at her, yelling at the spastic movements she was making. The girl staring across from her seemed unamused. It finally occurred to Rose that the woman standing across her may have saved her life.
That's the last thing I need. Having to pay someone back for saving my life. I don't need to be in debt again.
"Do you speak English? Where the fuck am I?" Rose was getting fidgety, and in result was getting hostile. Though the woman sat across from her, waiting for her to calm.
"Well good morning to you too. I'll answer your questions after I check something. Do you remember what happened to you?" The woman asked, her face calm and collected.
Rose stared down at the woman across from her challengingly, but forced the words out. "I was exploring... Exploring an abandoned building. There were raiders.." She thought for a second, " I got shot and ran. And now I'm here talking to some woman I don't know, without my weapons."
"Well, your memory checks out. You were shot and bleeding out, you were lucky that the bullet didn't hit your diaphragm. I have some buffout if you need it, and I have to check you for a concussion." The woman started approaching her, moving a finger in front of her eyes.
Rose's face scrunched up into a snarl, disapproving of the woman being so close. She was acting more like a mutt than a civilized human being, but after spending so much time in the wasteland the idea of being civil diminished. To be civil now, would be deciding to eat your dog or your best friend. No one had manners, there were no rules. You governed yourself, and killed anything that moves. This was the world they lived in, and it was a living hell.
"Who are you?" Roses ask as her eyes followed her finger, moving left, right, up and down.
"You don't have a concussion, good." She got up and walked over to a cabinet, "My name is Kiyo, your weapons are right here. Try not to move too much, alright?"
Rose sat stiffly, "Alright.." She watched Kiyo move towards a cabinet behind her.
Rose's right hand traveled down her left side. She could feel the bandage under the loosely fitting shirt she now wore. Slipping her hand under the shirt she lightly traced the bandage, tracing over the bullet wound in her side. She couldn't help but hiss at the slight pressure, feeling the pain throb like a beating heart.
"Try not to mess with your stitches too much. They're the only things keeping your gaping wound closed. If you have anything you want to ask, please ask." Kiyo took out familiar looking weapons, thank whatever god there is left that they were still there.
"Where am I? What is this place? How long was I out?" Rose questioned, still trying to determine whether or not this 'Kiyo' should be trusted.
"My house, in the 'operating room' as I call it. You were out for a few hours or so, I wasn't counting really. My turn to ask a question, I never got your name. So, what's my patient's name?" Kiyo gestured around the current room they occupied before nodding to Rose.
She was hesitant at first, a name meant a lot in the wasteland. It was everything that defined you, and as much power and money it could bring, it could also be the reason you get killed. "I… I go by many names in the Wasteland… But you can call me Rose."
"Rose, huh? So then, Rose, once your wounds are healed I was hoping you could assist me with something. Only after I declare you're healed though, stitching you up the first time was difficult enough."
"What is it?.." She stared back at the female form in front of her, an uneasy feeling crawled up her back and settled on her shoulders, unsure of what would be requested of her.