Hatchetfield Stories

Acquaintances

Most of this was written when I should've been sleeping that's my excuse for not having a real plot.

Being a writer is wild man like you're researching infections and two minutes you're looking up stuff about Mozart.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Injury
-Getting fired
-Infected wounds
-Hospitals
-Surgery

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Emma shifted her weight onto her right leg as she wiped down the counter at Beanies. Her leg was totally fucked after the crash, and though she was allowed to walk on it, the pain would last for a while.

Everyone in Hatchetfield tried to continue their lives after PEIP had managed to develop a cure and vaccinate all of the citizens, but after what happened, most people seemed to avoid Beanies. Emma didn't blame them. The coffee was shit.

Nora placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, causing her to almost lose her balance. She gripped the counter to steady herself. "We might have to close the shop if it'll stay this empty," Nora said. "I'm sorry, Emma. I hate to say this but I have to fire you, I'll have to cut down on expenses if I want to keep the shop open."

"What?" Emma said, turning around. "No! Wait! You can't- I don't have anywhere else to go..."

"I'm sorry," Nora said, taking the towel from Emma's hands. "Good luck finding a new job. Not in customer service, maybe?" She smiled, starting to walk away.

Emma bit her lip as she nodded, limping to the back of the shop, grabbing her bag and putting her apron away. "Bye, Nora," she mumbled as she walked through the door.

'Maybe it's a good thing,' she told herself as she walked home, 'I hated it there'.

A sharp pain shot up her leg as she took a step, she stumbled forward, reaching for a streetlamp to keep herself from falling. "Shit!" Her fingers hovered over the bandages and she almost cried out when she lightly touched them. She carefully tried to take another step, but even the slightest pressure made her vision blur.

Emma cursed. Her house was at least ten minutes from where she was now, and her phone had run out of battery when she used it during her break.

She looked around. Wait. Hadn't Paul said he lived around here? They exchanged numbers after the apocalypse, but they hadn't met up yet. Too many memories. But right now she didn't have a choice. There was no way she'd make it home, and it was a Saturday afternoon. He'd probably be home, right?

Emma stumbled down the street, and after only a minute she saw Paul's house. It's not like when he gave her the address she searched it in Google Maps to see what it looked like or anything...

She knocked on the door, and after only a few seconds, it swung open.

"Emma? What are you doing here? Come in!" he said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to come in. "Do you want coffee? Or tea? I can make-"

"No, Paul, I'm sorry. I just got fired and my leg started hurting like hell and my house is far away and your house was near and I don't want to be an inconvenience but I could really use a ride home."

Paul stepped forward, wiping away a tear that she didn't even notice had fallen. "I'm gonna be honest with you. I would give you a ride, but you seem like the kind of person who'd just go home and ignore the pain. If you're in so much pain that you show up at my door, at least let me look at it."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine." She followed him inside, sitting down on the couch in the living room.

He smiled at her as his hands hovered over her thigh, and she gave him a small nod to tell him he could touch it. She rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes as she felt the bandages pull at the dried blood.

To be honest, she hadn't listened to the advice the doctors had given her. Try changing the bandages every day when you're working a full-time job just to pay the hospital bills. She changed them about a week after she was released from the hospital, and that was two weeks ago. Long story short: she didn't think it would look good.

Emma winced as Paul carefully prodded at the stitches, causing him to pull back. "Geez, Em, that looks infected. You should go to the hospital."

"Absolutely not! I'm still paying off my debt from last time and I just lost my job!"

Paul sighed. "Let me just take your temperature, okay? If you have a fever I'm taking you there. I'll help you pay if that's what convinces you."

"It's not that bad! I just have to remember to change the bandages and clean it every once in a while."

"That doesn't help if it's already infected, and it looks like it is," Paul said, grabbing a thermometer. "Don't worry, it's clean."

Emma nodded, turning her head to the side so he could stick the thermometer in her ear.

Paul looked at the screen. "Yep. That's a fever. Let's go."

"Well shit," Emma mumbled, taking his hand so he could help her up. Paul quickly grabbed his bag and they got into his car. The radio turned on as he turned the keys and classical music broke through the silence. He quickly turned the volume down as Emma chuckled. "I know you were the most ordinary dude in town, but classical music? Really?"

"Well, I think everyone could use some Mozart in their lives."

Emma laughed. "Mozart, really? What song is this?" she asked, turning the volume up slightly.

"It's the 40th Symphony, he composed it in 1788, I think. It's one of my favorites." He tapped his fingers on the beat of the music. "What music do you like?"

Emma shrugged. "Rock, mostly. My favorite band is 311. That's also my favorite number, by the way."

"Good to know," Paul chuckled, taking his eyes off the road for only a second to look at her.

"I've missed you," Emma admitted, fidgeting with her bow. "I'm sorry for not reaching out. I guess I'm just scared."

Paul smiled. "No need to be scared, and I'm glad you came when you needed help. How about after we get out of the hospital, we go out for dinner? My treat."

"Ha! Absolutely. There's this cute Italian restaurant near my house, the owner is really nice. We could go there?"

"Sounds like a date! I mean- Not a date? As friends? Acquaintances?"

Emma chuckled. "We'll see."

They were silent as Paul pulled up to the hospital. He helped Emma limp towards the entrance, and checked her in. Surprisingly, it didn't take long before a doctor called them. "A lot of people stay home after the apocalypse, they're scared that it'll happen again," he explained as they walked to his office. "Now more people stay home we have fewer injuries to deal with, most of them are injuries they got during the invasion."

He opened a door and gestured for them to enter. Emma sat on the table as the doctor inspected the stitches.

"One of your stitches has come loose, but that'll be a quick fix. The problem is that the wound on the outside of your thigh looks infected. I would normally do a blood test, but that would take two to five days. It looks like it'll cause some complications if it's left untreated, so I'll do a CT scan to see what we're dealing with."

Emma nodded, hopping off the table, and followed the doctor to another room. He asked Paul to wait outside, and instructed Emma to lie down on the machine. "You're wearing shorts, so that shouldn't be a problem." He lifted her leg slightly so he could place her leg on a pillow. "I'm just going to see how severe the infection is before I decide on a solution. This should only take a few minutes, please try not to move."

Emma nodded, laying her head down as the doctor walked behind a glass wall. She closed her eyes when she heard the whirring sound of the machine, trying not to think about how much she hated feeling so exposed and vulnerable.

Paul hadn't been lying. She definitely would've ignored that the wound was getting worse. She might change the bandages more often, but she wouldn't have asked for help. She smiled. Paul actually cared, didn't he? Maybe they could become something more than acquaintances. Maybe.

The doctor came back into the room after it was done, and helped Emma stumble back to his office.

"I took a look at the scan, and it's more severe than you might think. You will need another surgery to remove the infected tissue."

"What?" Emma tensed up, and a second later she felt Paul's hand in hers. He smiled at her.

"We don't have many surgeries scheduled, so we can fit you in later today or tomorrow morning," the doctor continued, looking at his computer.

Emma went pale, squeezing Paul's hand. "I'm sure it'll be fine, I'll just take better care of it. I can go home."

"It will cause more complications if left untreated. I can see if I can make sure Paul can stay with you until you're asleep."

Emma nodded slowly. "Okay..."

"Let me reserve the spot in an hour for you so you don't have much time to stress about it. Is that alright?"

Emma nodded, biting her lip.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the clicking of the keyboard and the ticking of the clock above the door. "Alright. Let's get you ready."

*** *** ***

Emma bit her nails as she was taken to the operation room, looking at Paul, who looked a bit ridiculous with the hair net, but she assumed she looked just as weird.

She tried not to freak out at the small tug of the IV tube every time she moved her arm. Paul grabbed her hand and squeezed softly as one of the surgeons attached another tube. "You owe me the best meal in town when I get out of here," Emma told him as her eyes became heavier.

"Don't worry. I'll take you on all the dates you want." Paul said, smiling at her, before leaving and waiting in the waiting area. He made sure he was there when she woke up.