Chapter 3

When she woke, the first thing she saw was him. She immediately flinched and jumped away. She then discovered three things: 1; she was on a musty smelling bed, 2; her right hand was handcuffed to the frame of said bed, and 3; she had at least a couple broken ribs and likely a fractured wrist. As she lay back down on the bed in pain, she looked around the room, trying to find something to fight her savior turned captor. The dirty, debris strewn room held nothing close enough to get to. It was night, and she could see stars through the cracks and holes in the ceiling. She contemplated screaming, hoping that somebody would hear, but just as soon discarded the idea. That somebody could be a lot worse than this guy, after all.

The man in question was sitting across the room from her in a corner. He had a large pistol strapped to his thigh over his green cargo pants, and his hand was never more than a few inches away. He sat there hunched over and hood up, hiding his face above his mask, even though she could tell he was staring at her. He wore a black hoody that had some logo with the words "No Fear" written in orange. He had on gloves, both missing the last two sections of the middle and index fingers. More than anything else, Ellie got the sense that this guy knew what he was doing, and that he wouldn't be easy to take down.

As this thought crossed her mind, she realized that she had been handcuffed to a bed, for an unknown amount of time, with a man she didn't even know. As she began to feel for anything strange, she was again surprised to find that she was still fully clothed and felt fine. Confused, she looked up and saw the man holding her backpack, looking through it. She was instantly angry, and spoke first.

"Hey asshole, hands off my stuff!" By the end, she was shouting at the man, who carefully put the bag on a chair. She was wondering why that had been so easy when he started walking over to her. "Back off fuck-face."

This time, the man didn't even seem to register her speaking, the eyes above the mask giving away nothing. As he got closer, Ellie reached back behind her to get her switch-blade. It was still safely tucked in its sheath on her belt, and this guy was going to get to meet it face to face.

Right before he got close enough for Ellie to use the knife, he stopped and looked at her. She knew that he knew about the knife, even though she didn't know how. Maybe he had frisked her before putting her on the bed? She didn't know or care, more focused on the fact that the man now had her completely at his mercy, and that she was defenseless as long as he stayed out of blade range and she was handcuffed to the bed.

"You have three broken ribs. The handcuffs were so that you wouldn't hurt yourself by thrashing around." He spoke in a strange, hollow way, and kept the emotion from his voice and his face. "How are you?"

"Oh I feel fucking fantastic! I just got the shit kicked out of me, my partner is long gone, and I'm hand cuffed to a god damned BED, with some fucking creep!" She was trying to antagonize him, to get him a little close. Just a little closer, and then she could use her knife.

He didn't seem fazed and simply stood there, looking her over from a distance. It took her a moment before she realized that he was looking her over for wounds, and not simply checking her out. She shuddered at that last thought, trying to move on by saying, "So, what's next?"

Again he looked at her for a long, silent moment before speaking. "You can't get back to Jackson city without my help. I'll get you back there." He said it again with no emotion, and did not expect debate.

"Fuck no!" She yelled, furious. She didn't need some stranger holding her hand all the way back to Jackson. Broken ribs or no, she could make it back herself. As she was contemplating throwing the switch blade at the man, something occurred to her. How did he know that she was from Jackson? When she asked, he looked away, and didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, he looked at her, and something had changed in his eyes. They were angry, full of fury, and he lunged at her. She involuntarily flinched, causing lightning bolts of pain to go up her sides and her arm. He immediately stopped and backed off, not wanting to get into blade range. Once her pain subsided, he spoke.

"That is why you aren't going alone. You're too hurt. I know about Jackson because I was scouting it." He had resumed his passiveness, and made it clear to Ellie that he was not going to harm her. She didn't like being manipulated, and hated the fact that she needed him to get to Jackson. While she didn't like the situation, however, she was not blind to the fact that he was right.

"Fine. Let me loose."

"I'll get you a gun." He said as he threw the key to her.

"Well, gee, thanks." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she undid the cuffs.

As Ellie was un-cuffing herself, he turned and walked through the door he had been sitting near, motioning her to follow. She entered into a room made of wood walls that were sagging and beginning to rot. All around the room were piles of junk, knives, medical materials, and tools of all shapes and sizes. The man was going through a box that had been placed on a work bench, using an over-head light for illumination. As Ellie got closer, he held up a hand, motioning her to stop. She was still wary of the man, even though he had explained the whole handcuffing thing, and she had the switch blade tucked into her right jacket sleeve, ready to use at a moment's notice. Suddenly the man pulled something from the box and set it on the table and going back to the box. It was a pistol, though she couldn't get a good look at it from where she was.

As he worked, she asked him, "So, why did you save me, anyway?"

He didn't look at her while he answered, instead focusing on the box and what was inside. "I was in the area, looking for that group of hunters, when I saw them coming after you and your friend. I was going to take a shot at them to distract them, but then you sent your friend running, and you ran into the ally. I couldn't shoot then, because if I forced them to take cover, your friend could have been spotted. Before I could get my scope on one of them again, the last guy had chased you into the ally. I ran around and shot at them as soon as I could." The last few words almost sounded like an apology, but he quickly covered it. "After you passed out, I brought you here and put you on the bed. I checked you for injuries and would have tapped up your ribs, except for the fact that you would probably want to kill me." She chuckled despite herself at that thought. He certainly wasn't stupid.

"Ok. That explains the how, now how about the why?"

"My own reasons. Leave it." He said, finishing the topic.

"Okay, o' mystery man. Can you at least give me a name?" Ellie was starting to get impatient with the man again, and let it show in her voice.

He stopped with the box and looked at her, trying to think of what to say. Finally, he came up with something.

"The hunters around here have taken to calling me "The Wolf". Kind of stupid, but it works."

"Seriously?" Ellie said, almost laughing at how cliché the name was, then at how cliché the whole situation was. Mysterious man saves damsel in distress, then damsel falls for him, and they live happily ever after. She knew that the last parts wouldn't be happening, but it still made her chuckle to think about. When all he did was nod his head and keep rummaging through the box, she stopped.

A couple minutes later, he finally moved aside, letting Ellie see what he had been working on. On the table were a pistol and some magazines. The pistol was painted black, and showed no sign of rust. She was more focused on what type of pistol it was, however. She was surprised to see it was an M9, a rare and reliable pistol with room for 16 bullets in its magazine. She almost couldn't believe it. She had only seen a couple in her life time, and was always envious of people who had them. After all, you can kill a lot with 16 bullets, and if the thing in question wouldn't go down, then you would probably be better off using one of those bullets on yourself instead.

She picked up the gun gently with her good hand, getting used to the weight and feel. Wolf was on the other side of the room, looking at a crate filled with boxes of ammunition. He was a strange one, that was for sure. First he saved her, now he was going to walk her back to Jackson, which he had all ready known about somehow, for reasons he wouldn't talk about. All of that, plus the fact that he showed about as much emotion as a fucking rock, made her feel both uneasy and at the same time intrigued. She was curious to see what this "Wolf" would do. He had removed his hood as he worked, and she saw long black hair that spilled down his back. It was unkempt and dirty, like the house they were in. He still hadn't taken off the mask, though. That was one thing that definitely set her on edge. The mask in question looked to be handmade, and seemed to be crafted of a hard, grey metal and covered his face to just below his eye sockets. Once it got past his jaw, it turned into a leather strap that went around his head. It had seen plenty of wear and tear, and had many scars and gouges in the metal. It had three slots at the mouth and two nose holes to breathe out of, and also allowed his voice to come out clear. It was definitely strange, and she wondered what he looked like underneath.

While she had been thinking this, Wolf had handed her a box of bullets, and she had been steadily adding them to the magazines, filling each one. Sliding one of the clips into the pistol, she racked a shell into the chamber. Finally, she put the extra clips into her bag and gun into her belt. Finished, she watched Wolf for a moment. He was doing the same thing with his pistol, but the bullets and gun were different. The bullets were considerably bigger than the 9mm rounds in her pistol, and she guessed that they were .45s. The pistol itself looked like it had been through the wringer, with scratches breaking up the black of the metal and handle. For all the scratches, however, there was not even a hint of rust, and it seemed to gleam in the lamp-light.

"So, when do we head out?" She asked, hoping that the answer would be soon.

"As soon as it gets dark. You should be back by first light." He said as he vaulted over a dirty couch and lay down where he landed.

"Ok, well what am I supposed to do in the mean time?" She said, hoping that she could convince him to leave sooner.

He stared at the ceiling, not speaking. She took the silence as "I don't care" and was slightly irritated. This man didn't seem to give a rat's ass about anything, except for her, which was strange. Whatever she was going to do, sleep or let her guard down around this man would not be it.

So, hey everybody. Hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. I know we are just getting started, but I got some serious hopes for this. This is my first fanfiction, as you can probably tell, and i hope that people will review and tell me what you think, what i can improve on, and just to talk in general. I know this was a bit of a slow chapter, but that is just setting up for the next one. Thanks for reading, and thank you if you will put a review up or ask any questions.
 Peace