Among The Bodies: Doctor Zoey
I woke with a moan. My stomach was rumbling and the wooden floor didn't make as much good as a bed as I'd hoped it would of. The throbbing pain in both my cheek and ankle prevented me from dozing off, and I sat up, reaching for whatever I had left of the kit I had brought.
Opening it up, I found just some disinfected wipes and half a roll of bandages, like I thought. I sighed, put the kit to the side and pulled my ankle into view. It wasn't as swollen as it was yesterday, so it must be starting to heal already.
I was happy I wouldn't have to use anything on the ankle. If I could bear it just a little while longer, then it would heal itself up in no time. My cheek on the other hand…
Running my fingers over the marks, they didn't feel like it would leave permanent scars. If I had a mirror, than I could analyze the total damage, but I think it'll heal before I even find one.
Just to be safe though, I ran a wipe over my cheek. I wanted to make sure there was nothing nasty on the scratches, in case of it getting worse.
Pulling back the wipe, I saw that it was dirty and contained traces of blood. Disgusted, I pulled back out another, and wiped my entire face. My face stung a little, and it smelled like rubbing alcohol, but I felt a little bit cleaner. I threw the soiled wipes behind me, out of view.
It was dark inside the office, darker than when I first came in. I fumbled to my feet. Keeping my hand on the desk, I reached over to the wall and patted around for a light switch. I stopped mid search and cursed. There isn't any power, idiot, the light switch isn't going to work.
I sighed to myself. Blinking, I took a look around my surroundings. It was a nice looking office, maybe a little messy. I could make out a few objects in the dark that were close enough to me. A desk, a chair, a bookshelf, a table with a lamp on it, a cookie monster bag….
Wait…didn't I leave that in the ally?
The bag was fully intact, sitting quite close to where I was asleep. I stared at the bag suspiciously, knowing full well that it wasn't going to stare at me back. It was left in an ally way after I had used it as a weapon against a couple commons and a witch, what was it doing back here?
It took a moment, but the memory of yesterday rushed back to me and I dropped to my knees, glaring at the bag. I blamed him, the hunter. The same one who I saved in the woods, and decided to hunt me down anyway. I should have shot him when I had the chance…
Then again, if it weren't for him, that witch would have reduced me to a pile of shredded flesh. But didn't I bring him here with me?
As if on cue, sounds was heard from behind. I twisted around and sat on my knees, instinctively holding my handgun up, even though it's useless now.
He was even harder to see in the dark. But I could make out the outline of his figure in the corner, about 3ft from me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, my heart started racing. He was crouched on the floor, with his hands holding his stomach. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not, his hood is always too low.
I shot a quick glance down to his hands. I could see dried blood where he was clutching, so I guess his injury he received from the witch had stopped bleeding. Holding the gun up, I put on a brave look. Surely he's not smart enough to know that I basically have no way of defending myself, right?
He hesitated, as if waiting for me to chuck something at him. (Which I really considered grabbing the lamp and doing just that) then started to move ever so slowly forward.
In a moment of panic, I flicked my gun's flashlight on. He stopped moving and I scooted as far back as I could until I reached the desk again.
This was it. He was going to jump me, rip out my throat, my chest, and probably eat my face. After all, infected have to eat something, right? I've always wondered what they ate regularly...
My hands were shaking, but I still kept them up. He didn't even seem scared from the weapons, just uninterested. If he wasn't threatened by me, then he thought I was weak. I must be, if he won't even put any effort into killing me. Accepting my fate, I breathed deep and waited for him to spring at me.
Instead, he crawled around me, going straight for the backpack. He pulled the pack open forcefully, not really caring about the issue with the zipper and snatched a can up from inside. Bringing it up to his mouth, he bit at the end, trying to open the can.
He made a little hole in the top. He sniffed the insides, made a dissatisfied sound, and then roughly tossed the can towards my direction.
Still a little stunned by the fact that he wasn't turning me into confetti, I yelped at the incoming projectile, crawling away from where it had landed near my position.
Green peas spilled out from the opening of the can, but I watched the hunter instead of the wasted food on the floor. He continued to pull out cans, sniff them, then throw them side. He stopped at one and pried it open completely with his teeth.
I bit my lip, thinking on how painful that could be to open something with your own teeth. Well, I guess he couldn't really be bothered about something like that anymore…but still!
Using his fingers like forks, he picked out the meaty substances from the inside and gobbled it up in record time. It was messy as hell, and I almost got a little sick by watching him gulf it down. Still, better the processed food than me.
He turned to faced me and I stiffened. My arms hurt from holding them up for too long and I brought them down long ago. Though I doubt that keeping them up would have worked anyway. Glancing at the abandoned green peas, he leaned over and pushed them towards me, before returning to his meal.
The can rolled over until it bumped my knee. I narrowed my eyes at it, and him. Picking it up, I stuck a fingernail in the opening and tried to pry it open. No use. Mentally, I groaned.
I scooted back into the corner he was originally in, as quiet and quickly as possible. The hunter didn't seem to notice, or he just didn't care. He was still fully occupied.
Keeping an eye on him, I tilted the can back and poured out some peas into my hand, before shoving them into my mouth. They were dry and chewy, but still good.
Emptying the can out, I sighed, I haven't eaten peas since last thanksgiving. Now all I needed was some chicken and mashed potatoes. I let out a small chuckle, and then stopped short when I remembered that I wasn't alone here.
I guessed I had distracted him, or he had already finished, because he was glaring in my direction and I didn't have anything else to do but glare at him back. Like before, the temptation to hurdle the empty can in my grasp was creeping up, but that would only end in disaster.
He wasn't really doing anything that endangered me in anyway, and hasn't since he's been on my trail. But I can't let my guard down so easily. For all I could know, I could just be a game to him.
He moved and I flinched by impulse. Though, I felt stupid when he picked up the backpack and started to drag it over to me. He slung it over, and it landed with a thud in front of me.
Was he the one who went and retrieved my stuff? An image of a golden retriever wearing a hoodie fetching newspaper popped up in my head and I let out a nervous, uncontrollable giggle. I didn't know what to do at this point.
Not really understanding what he was trying to get at, I unzipped the backpack and reached over to put all the cans he had thrown out back inside. I made sure to keep my attention on him while I refilled the pack, making sure he wasn't going to try anything funny.
My eyes trailed down to the front of his hoodie. Hunched over, it was hard to see what exactly was on the front of it. Determined to see, I casually pointed my gun, hence my flashlight, at his lower abdomen. I expected him to back away or lash out at me. But he was as still, and emotionless as a statue.
Dried blood, with obvious holes in the fabric where the witch's claws had seriously hurt him. I started to feel the same pity I had felt for him back in the woods and quickly finished filling up the bag before I gave myself any ideas.
Speaking of the woods, I wondered how his leg was doing. I stole a glance at his leg, unable to think of anything else. Though I'm sure he knew I was looking directly at it, since I had shined my light on it on reflex.
Like before, he still had the same duct tape over his wound. I inwardly cringed on what it might feel like when he had to take it off. That is, if he'll take it off. Sure, the tape would stop the bleeding, but without proper treatment, the wound he had could have only gotten worse in this period of time.
If his leg was as bad as I thought it was, then how did he manage to hurl himself across rooftops in such incredible speed and distance. Maybe infected didn't feel any pain? No, that wouldn't be it. If the infected didn't feel any pain, than he wouldn't have made such whiny noises when his leg was still caught in the trap.
And the witch in the ally wouldn't have howled about her arm…
Damn, I owed him that didn't I? No, I already saved him once, but then he had to go and fetch my pack for me, and it just wouldn't be right if I didn't show gratitude. Especially if he had shown his earlier, though in a much more…violent way.
My medkit still had disinfected wipes and bandages left over. Not to mention the pain pills I had found in the wreckage 3 days ago. But I'll need to save those, I wasn't hurt all that bad. I briefly thought on whether or not it was really such a good idea to get close to him, then I remember having the same thought back in the woods when I had saved him.
Holding out my cautiously, like a scared child trying to pet a huge, mean bulldog. The hunter's glare traveled from me to my hand, then back to me. Still no change of emotion. No fear and no threating stance. I took that as a good sign.
I took a deep breath, and inwardly hoped that it wouldn't be my last. Ever so slowly, I moved closely and put my hands on his shoulders as gently as I could. He tensed. I thought about pulling them back and forgetting the whole thing, but instead applied pressure and very carefully pushed him down.
It was basically the only way I could tell him to 'sit', since I'm guessing he wouldn't understand me if I talked to him. Amazedly, he leaned back and sat on the floor.
Nervously, I pulled my hands away from him, in case he had any thoughts about tearing them off. He still didn't show any obvious signs of wanting to slaughter me, so I took another deep breath and worked on the duct tape.
The duct tape was tight, and I had to pull quite hard before it even began to unravel. Every few second or so I would glance at the leg's owner. He still had that blank, statue look. But I knew he was watching me closely. This was making me feel unbelievably unconformable, but at least I wouldn't feel guilty later.
I wasn't sure whether to blame my soft side, or my depleting sanity that keeps bringing up this feeling.
The tape was getting thinner until it was down to the last layer. I began removing it, when I heard a painful, defined hiss from beside me.
Freezing, my hands were still on his make-shift bandage as I rotated my head to face his stare. Though I couldn't see his eyes, he looked pissed, judging by the snarl he had painted on his face and his repeatedly twitching fingers. My chest was thumping and I was sure he could hear it. I was suddenly worried about the safety of my wellbeing.
Taking my hands off him and placing them in my lap, I waited for the continuing noises he made to stop. It seemed like forever before he stopped making the horrible growling noises. I stared at my palms. I'm already this far, I can't stop now. Besides, that guilty feeling will haunt me if I decide to chicken out.
I summoned whatever courage I had left, grabbed the remaining tape and ripped it off like a Band-Aid.
The hunter yelped in pain and pulled his leg away from my reach. Startled, I flew back wards a little, half expecting him to swipe at me. Instead, his hands hovered around the now bleeding and exposed wound. He scowled at me, and I let out a small whimper in response.
While he focused on his legs, I snatched the leftover bandages and wipes. Getting a good look at the entire mess, I felt a little bile creep up in my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I've seen and treated worse, this was nothing.
Now the only problem was how I was going to get close again. Carefully, I edged over to him. He saw me coming, and growled. I ignored him; he did the same thing back in the woods. This was for his own good.
I won't lie, I was scared as hell. Reaching out a hand, I placed one on his arm and it jerked back in response. His fingers were constantly twitching and his focus shifted to me.
Giving it my best shot, I tried to make a comforting gesture. Instead of him calming down as I had hoped, he only became confused. But it was better than enraged.
Moving my hands to the wound, he instinctively moved it away. Rolling my eyes, his behavior reminded me of Francis whenever I would try to help him. Every time, that biker would act like a child and say he would do it himself, only to make it worse, much like the hunter and his beloved duct tape.
Grabbing the end of his pants leg, I held it in place, much to the hunter's dislike. Now, I could clearly just feel the anger radiating off his form. But if he really couldn't handle the pain, then he should just slice me up, because I'm not stopping now.
The thumping in my chest had reduced back to a normal heartbeat. I cleaned up the blood as much as I could, but when I tore off the tape, I opened the wound again, thanks to the tape sticking to the skin.
He was losing enough blood where a normal person would at least be dizzy by now, but no, he was fully awake and glaring bullet holes in my person.
Then I remembered the fact I had period pads in my back pocket. Reaching over, I pulled it out, and stared at it for a good minute. When I had scavenged them, I thought they would have made good bindings, though I didn't know how right I was.
Unwrapping one, I placed it on the wound, then wrapped some bind around it to hold it in place. It had worked, and the hunter wasn't glaring at me anymore, but at the strange invention strapped to his leg instead.
It had looked absolutely ridiculous.
it was getting harder to breath, until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I let out a genuine, truly entertained laugh. Probably the most enjoyable one I've had in a while. This was the dumbest and weirdest thing I have ever done, and it actually worked to boot.
The hunter, still a little fazed about the now fading pain from his leg, looked up to the sound of my laughter. I put a hand over my mouth to muffle any sounds I make incase I attracted anything unwanted. But the giggle I was emitting was still audible.
Catching my breath, I reminded myself that I wasn't done just yet. I still had his stomach to do. With a smile still plastered on my face, I turned to the hunter.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, right?"
The hunter remained silent and the smile fell from my face. He wasn't like a survivor, Zoey; he doesn't understand a single word you just said. I signed, resorted by to my gloomy, routine mood.
Checking the amount of medical supplies I had left, I found that I was almost out of disinfectant wipes, but still had a good amount of bandages leftover. This will have to do.
Placing my hand on his arm again, I got his attention. He still seemed a little peeved from earlier, but he wasn't seething with fury. My attempts to make him lie down were all failures, so I'll have to do this while he sat up.
I held a wipe and showed it to him. I was hoping that by now he understood that I was trying to help him. But as I made a move to try and life his shirt, he lurched away and paddled backwards a couple feet.
I furrowed my brows. "I won't hurt you; I just need to see the damage…" Coaxing him with gentle words wasn't going to help, I figured. He didn't budge.
As I moved closer, he backed away. I tried to get near him again, and he started to stand up. Sighing, I rolled my eyes. This wasn't going to work. There was no way he was going to let me get close to him again after what pain he went through just trying to fix his leg, and I was sure the witch's wound was much worse.
Standing up along with him, I tried taking baby steps towards his figure. That only resulted in him howling out a warning. That made me stops in my tracks. He hasn't hurt me yet, but maybe this time he's serious, and I might as well have a death wish. Only one way to find out.
I took a minuscule step back, acting like I was backing off. The hinter seemed to relax and the snarl on his face faded away. I smiled ever so sweetly, even if he couldn't read facial expressions, and then made a leap for him.
Ironic, the survivor trying to catch the hunter.
Catching him by surprise, I grabbed him around the middle and brought him back down to the floor. He was taller than me, I discovered. But that didn't matter. His injured leg crumbled, and he was no match for me.
For some reason, he didn't even try to pry me off. Instead, he screeched and growled at me and my sudden intrusion in his private space.
I poked him in the stomach, around the area of injury and his wailing and shrieking reduced to a pained whimper. Yeah, he definitely won't ever want me near him after this. I don't blame him.
He collapsed to the floor and I fell with him. I lifted up his shirt and analyzed the damage. He growled reluctantly, but his growl's pitch went high when I applied the alcohol wipe. It would have been funny if I hadn't had been the cause of it.
He was quiet most of the treatment. I guess being bested by a girl, twice, seeing how the witch really did a number on him, could really hurt a man's pride. I was sure he had pride, since he still has life preservation
The injury wasn't as bad as I thought. The poor guy had 4 clean holes and they weren't as deep as they should have been. I'm guessing his skin hardened when he turned. I wondered if it was like that with every infected.
Ignoring his occasional noises of pain, (He can suck it up) I use the last of the bindings to wrap around his middle. It didn't take as long as I expected and was easier to treat, aside from the forcing him to lift his shirt part. I smiled at my handiwork. Since the breakout, my skills on medical things and such increased overtime. I had the right to be proud of myself.
Leaning back, I looked him right in the face. "We're even now, got it?"
I just wanted to state the fact, not caring if he could understand me. It just felt a little better if I could say it out loud. The hunter didn't answer in any growl or snarl, but instead, leaned over and licked my scratched cheek. I responded in a non-grateful manner.
The next hour went on with him poking at the pad strapped to his limb, and me using the very last wipe to decontaminate the scratch on my face.
Yes, period pads. Useful for lots of things.
Instead of just me deciding on the hunter's name, I've opened a poll on my profile to help choose which is best for him. His name won't be official until chapter 10, so there is plenty of time to vote! Please vote, and once again, if I use the name you suggested, you will be credited. Bye Bye!