After The End

by Jamie Campbell

  We all gather in the park as we emerge from our respective hiding places. I pull Sarah aside. “You shouldn’t hide in buildings. They can blow them up. Hide under trees or a car. They’ll be less likely to think you’re there.”

  She looks at the ground. “I was in a hurry.”

  “I know and it’s okay to hurry. Just take a few extra seconds to look around for somewhere better next time, okay?”

  She nods and I let it drop. I don’t want to upset her but I need her to know that it’s important. She’s not as invincible as she thinks she is. I need her to automatically make the right decision so she doesn’t get blown up.

  “Did anyone find anything?” Lincoln asks. I’m not sure how he became the unofficial leader of our group. Nobody really challenged him and I guess it just happened. I often wonder why Garlind didn’t take that role. I guess he had his reasons.

  “I got a few cans of potatoes,” Tabitha says.

  “Some old blankets,” Garlind adds.

  We take it in turns to share our haul with the group. Overall, we got a few things but not enough of everything to get us through to Washington DC. We’re going to have to waste time searching towns like this along the way.

  When everyone has finished, Lincoln continues. “Okay then. There are more houses on the road out of town. We’ll have to hit them up before we move on. Let’s go.”

  He waves his hand and starts walking. Like good lackeys, we follow him without argument. The next set of houses are around a bend in the road. There is only half a dozen lined up. All single story homes with the same small porch and pitched roof.

  We’re about to split up and search when the first gunshot cracks the air.

  It takes a second for the noise to register. When it does, we flee in different directions. I grab Sarah and cover her with my body. Garlind takes me by the arm and drags both of us behind the nearest house.

  We line up against the wall and try to be as flat as possible. Garlind peeks around the corner, trying to see which direction the gunshot came from. “What can you see?” I ask.

  He hesitates before replying. “I think it came from the house across the street. The curtain is moving over there.”

  “It has to be humans, then. Aliens wouldn’t bother with a simple gun.” They have far superior weapons that can obliterate a person with a single shot. Our guns are just children’s toys to them. “They might live here.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you see the others?”

  Garlind pokes his head around the corner again. Every second that passes is punctuated by the pounding of my heart. Even though it’s cold up on the mountain, I’m sweating heavily. That bullet could have hit any of us.

  “Oh no,” Garlind groans.

  “What is it?” I hang out for the answer, not wanting to know what made him make that sound but needing to know as well. Sarah is equally as alert beside me. She must be very scared considering she hasn’t said a word.

  “Rhys is down. He’s bleeding.”

  Now I have to look. I creep along to peer around Garlind. It only take me a moment to spot Rhys. He’s lying on the front yard of a house. A trail of blood follows him. He’s a sitting duck being out in the open like that. Especially if Garlind is right about which house the shooter is in.

  “We have to get him,” I declare. I don’t know how we’re going to do it but we can’t leave him there. One more bullet and he could easily have his life snuffed out.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Garlind replies.

  Sarah sidesteps her way to see for herself. I pull her back so she’s not the next target. “Stay back,” I warn.

  “I want to see.”

  “There’s nothing to see. Just stay back so you don’t get shot.”

  She humphs but does return to her spot. I can’t be worrying about her right now when Rhys is in a much more precarious situation out there, all alone.

  There is only one thing I can do. “I’m going out there. I’ll help him move out of the way.”

  “Maisy, it’s too dangerous,” Garlind replies. “They could start shooting again at any moment.”

  “That’s exactly why I need to get him. He’s not safe out there all by himself.”

  Garlind’s stare is almost enough to change my mind but I can’t. I’ll never be able to live with myself if something happens to Rhys while the rest of us hide. If I was the one out there injured, I would hope somebody would do the same for me.

  Garlind lets out the breath he was holding. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It will be easier with the two of us. We’ll both take some of his weight and help him to stand. Got it?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about me? I want to help,” Sarah pipes up.

  “No. You stay here and don’t move,” I reply.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. We’ve got this. Just stay hidden.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts but doesn’t protest any further. I’m about seventy percent sure she will listen to my order and stay behind. There is no way to predict what else she could do in the remaining thirty percent.

  Garlind counts us down from three and we dash out from the side of the house into the street. Rhys is two homes away. I can’t see any of the others. They are doing a good job of hiding.

  We reach Rhys and crouch down beside him, one either side. “Can you walk?” I ask him.

  His face is twisted with pain as he winces. His right hand is covering the wound at his side. Blood seeps through his fingers. This isn’t good.

  Every word he utters costs him more energy than he has. “I can try to walk.”

  Garlind and I exchange a look as we support his arms. We help Rhys to his feet. He’s like a dead weight. I sling his arm around my shoulders and grab onto this side. Garlind takes most of his weight against him.

  Several shots ring out and slice the air in two.

  We walk faster.

  I wait for a bullet to hit one of us. We’re way too exposed to pretend we’re safe. Out of the side of my vision, I catch some sparks from the house Garlind thought was their hiding place. He was right, the shots are definitely coming from there.

  Bang bang bang. More gunshots.

  The three of us hobble along as I hope with everything that I’ve got that none of the bullets find us. I’ve never been shot before, but I imagine it hurts quite a bit.

  Rhys can only walk so fast and even with us half-dragging him, our progress is slow.

  Bang bang bang.

  They must have a lot of ammunition to waste so much of it on us. We’re clearly not a threat to them while we’re running in the opposite direction of their hiding place with an injured person.

  The house we were stationed behind nears. I focus on that and getting to safety. I can wonder about the shooters in a minute. Right now, we just need to get back to the safety of that wall. Sarah better still be there and a good distance away from the edge of the house.

  Bang bang bang.

  I grip Rhys tighter as I walk just that little bit faster. We’re no use to anyone if we get shot too. I’m not convinced the others would step into the line of fire to rescue us. As much as I like Tabitha and Lincoln, a part of me knows they look after themselves before anyone else.

  Finally, we reach the house and hurry to get behind it. The sounds of the gun finally cease. They know where we’re hiding now but they can’t get to us with their bullets from their position. I just hope there’s only one of them.

  We help lower Rhys to the ground where he slumps against the wall. His eyes are half closed as he clutches his side. There is more blood than there was before.

  I crouch down next to him and look him in the eyes. “We need to apply lots of pressure to your wound. That will help stop the blood flow. Okay?”

  He returns my gaze and nods.

  From my backpack, I find a T-shirt and roll it into a ball. I gently remove Rhys’s hand
and place the shirt over the wound. All I can see is a mess of red and maroon. If he survives the blood loss, he’s going to need stitches at the very least.

  I press down on the shirt as he winces and closes his eyes. I want to give him reassuring words but that feels like lying. The odds that he’s going to survive this is low. Even if I can get the wound to stop bleeding, there is a very good chance he’ll get an infection. That could end up being worse than the original injury.

  “What can I do to help?” Garlind asks.

  “We need to find the others and get out of here. Rhys needs somewhere he can rest and I can clean the wound. The sooner all these things happen, the better.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Garlind stalks off down the back side of the house. I hope no bullets find him.

  “What about me? What can I do?” Sarah asks as she hovers at my side.

  “Talk to Rhys. He needs to stay conscious. He can’t fall asleep.” I’m not entirely sure what will happen if he does sleep, but I know the First Aid book I read said not to let him. I really wish I’d brought that book with me when I left the bunker. The additional weight would have been worth it.

  Sarah goes to work straight away as she makes small talk with Rhys. I tune her out as I focus on the mound. My T-shirt is almost soaked through with blood now. He’s losing a lot of it and very quickly. Unless I can stop it, he’s going to bleed out right here and soon.

  I remove the shirt and take a peek at the wound. It’s almost a perfect circle in his side. Too high to hit his intestines and two low to get his lungs. I think it’s managed to miss all his vital organs. Although…the liver. Where again is the liver? I think it’s on the right side—which is where his gunshot is.

  If I panic now, there is no way I can help him. I have to clamp down on all the crazy thoughts threatening to run through my head. I have to focus.

  Focus.

  Blood is pulsing out of the hole in his right side. I shove the shirt back over the wound and press as hard as I dare to. Rhys sucks in a breath. I know I’m hurting him but being dead will hurt more. I can’t let up on the pressure.

  “Uh, Maisy,” Sarah says, her voice breaking through my concentration.

  “What is it?”

  “Rhys has gone to sleep.”

  Dammit.

  I look up and see his eyes are closed. Another few seconds and I know he’s still breathing. I feel under his neck for a pulse and find a faint one there.

  The book never told me what to do if the patient does fall unconscious. It only ever focused on keeping them awake. I guess I failed that part in spectacular fashion.

  “Do you have a blanket?” I ask her.

  “In my bag.”

  “Get it out and cover him with it. We need to keep him warm.” He’ll be more comfortable like that. Even if it doesn’t do anything else, at least he won’t be cold.

  Sarah works around me while I continue to press on the shirt. She covers his lower half and legs with the blanket and tucks it underneath his knees. He’s little more than a limp doll right now. I’m not convinced he’s going to last much longer.

  Garlind finally returns with the others.

  Tabitha bends down and hovers over Rhys. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

  Lincoln and Garlind talk in low voices between them. Sarah hovers close to them, listening but not participating in the conversation. Tabitha holds Rhys’s hand and strokes it with her thumb.

  We stay there as the minutes tick by.

  My hand starts to tingle from holding the shirt so tightly for too long. I risk a peek of the wound. It’s no longer gushing with blood. It’s more of a very slow ooze. Either he’s running out of the life-sustaining liquid or the pressure is actually working.

  I turn toward the boys. “I think we can move him now if we’re really careful. We’re going to have to carry him. He can’t walk anywhere.”

  “We’ll head into the forest and find a place to hide for a while,” Lincoln replies. “He can rest there.”

  It’s probably as close to having a good plan as we’re going to get. “If you two lift him, I’ll continue to hold pressure on the wound. I can’t let go or the bleeding might start up again.”

  The three of us work together to move him. Garlind takes Rhys under the shoulders and Lincoln takes his legs. I walk between them with my hand on the bloodied shirt. Tabitha carries Rhys’s backpack while Sarah follows behind. Our progress is painfully slow.

  We go behind the house and make a beeline directly for the forest beyond. These homes don’t have fences which makes it much easier to get around. The buildings block us from the view of the shooter.

  It’s difficult walking through the dense foliage of the forest. It’s hard enough trying to do it alone, let alone coordinate the three of us so we don’t cause more injuries to Rhys’s body. We rely solely on Lincoln to guide us.

  I hope he knows if we are going in the right direction.

  Blood seeps through my fingers as Rhys is jostled between us. Garlind catches my eye. I’m sure my fear is reflected in his expression. For once, I’m not worried about my own mortality but Rhys’s. His life is slipping between my fingers.

  We walk for a very long time. At least it feels that way. In reality, I’m not sure how long it takes us to get far enough into the forest for the shooters to lose us. We haven’t heard any gunshots for a while so they either gave up or are being more stealthy now.

  We’ve all seen what their bullets can do. Nobody needs another reminder of how vulnerable we all are.

  Lincoln leads us to a small clearing in amongst all the trees. He indicates for us to stop and then helps Rhys to the ground. He stalks around the clearing, searching all over the place for anything that can hurt us.

  “I think this will be okay for the night,” he declares.

  “They might have followed us,” Garlind replies. “I’ll double back and check it out.”

  I hold my tongue so I don’t plead for him to stay and let someone else do it. Every time I watch Garlind walk away, I’m afraid I won’t see him again. I wonder if he feels the same way about me.

  Rhys steals my focus so I don’t have to worry about his departure.

  The boys laid him flat on the ground. His face is twisted with pain and his breathing is shallow. None of this is a good sign. Nor is the blood-soaked shirt on his wound.

  “What hurts the most?” I ask as Sarah and Tabitha watch on. I don’t like having an audience but I can’t very well tell them to go away. We need to stick together and they are probably just as worried about their friend.

  I have to lean in close to hear Rhys’s answer. “Stomach.”

  The bullet went in on the opposite side to his stomach so I’m assuming he means his belly in general. I wish I had some pain killers I could inject straight into his bloodstream. I don’t think the oral Tylenol I have in my backpack will do much.

  “Try to stay still while I take a good look. I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I say.

  He gives me a little nod of consent and resignation. I pull the T-shirt away carefully as he winces. I hate every little detail about this whole thing.

  The blood has slowed down considerably. It’s not really even an ooze now, more like a very small seep. In the mystery novels I read in the bunker, some brave person would reach into the wound and tug out the bullet. They would hold it up high like a trophy and rejoice for saving the guy’s life.

  I’m not going to do that.

  I think it’s safer leaving the bullet where it is. The bleeding is coming to an end and dislodging it now could do more damage than leaving it alone.

  But he does need stitches.

  Turning to the others, I ask, “Does anyone have any alcohol or strong pain medication?”

  “I have a bottle of rum,” Lincoln offers. The girls shake their heads, no.

  “That might help. Give some to Rhys to drink. Not enough to get him drunk but enough to make him
a bit woozy,” I instruct. I’ve never had a drop of alcohol myself, but the mystery novels always offer it when they’re about to hurt somebody badly. Usually right before they reach in for the bullet.

  While Lincoln helps Rhys to drink, I take out my paltry First Aid kit. There are a few sterilized needles in there with thread that I took from a supply store. I don’t think it’s really what they used for stitches back before, but it will do.

  I think.

  I thread the needle and cut a length with my knife. It seems strong enough to keep flesh sewn together. Hopefully it will do the job. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.

  “How are you feeling now, Rhys?” I ask.

  He looks at me with groggy eyes. It could be from the rum or the pain, I’m not sure. Either way, I have to get this done. It’s going to hurt no matter how much alcohol is in his system. It’s better to get it over and done with now so I don’t prolong his agony.

  “This is going to hurt but I need you to stay still. I’m going to stitch up your wound so it can start to heal. Okay, Rhys?”

  His head lolls to one side. I need to get this done and I need to do it now.

  “Lincoln, can you hold him still?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be ready with the rum afterwards.”

  “It is wise to give him any more?”

  “No. I’m going to use it on the wound to clean it afterwards,” I explain. I’m pretty sure that was in the mystery novels too. Although, this one I can actually understand. The alcohol can act as a type of disinfectant and help sterilize the area.

  Lincoln nods and leaves the bottle of rum next to me. He braces over Rhys to hold him down. It feels like we’re torturing the poor boy. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m trying to help. If I don’t do this, nobody else will.

  I have to help him.

  Chapter 5

  There is no more time to waste. I hold both sides of the bullet hole together and poise the needle at one end. I take a few deep breaths.

  You can do this, Maisy. It’s just sewing. You’ll be fine.