Hatchetfield Stories

Be Safe

I've written so many helicopter crash fics that I thought it was time for some role reversals :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Injury
-Blood
-Medical stuff

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"Emma, seatbelts! It's a little bumpy!"

Emma chuckled, sitting down, but not putting on her seatbelt. She tapped the pilot on her shoulder, only to be met with a gun in her face, Zoey grinning at her from behind her goggles.

Paul kicked the gun out of her hand, the gunshot drowning out their screams, and Zoey's singing.

The helicopter went down, and Emma gripped the seat in front of her, but as soon as they hit the ground, she had to let go, tumbling out of the helicopter and hitting the ground hard.

She shielded her head from the debris flying around, luckily getting away with just a few scratches and a couple of bruises.

As soon as the clanging of metal on metal got replaced by silence, she jumped up, running back to the helicopter.

"Paul!" she shouted, digging through the debris, trying to find Paul, who was hopefully still alive.

Tears streamed down Emma's face as she threw large chunks of metal aside. She toned down her frantic screaming to panicked whispers to prevent alerting any nearby aliens.

She grunted as she lifted the big metal door, glass cutting into her palms, but she dragged it aside, tossing it on the ground a few feet away. When she turned back around, she saw him. Paul lay on the passenger seat, clutching his leg, blood pouring from where a rotor blade from the helicopter pinned him to the seat.

"Fuck, Paul!" She kneeled next to him to assess the damage, before standing up and climbing up on the wreckage, grabbing hold of the other end of the blade. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch, alright? Stay with me."

Paul gave a terrified nod, staring at the metal stabbed through his leg with wide eyes.

Emma pulled the rotor blade up with all her strength, trying to ignore Paul's pained screams as she did. First, they had to get out of here, then she could worry about him.

The metal came loose relatively easily, and she tossed it away, jumping back into the wreckage and inspecting Paul's leg. Now there was nothing blocking the wound anymore, the blood was flowing freely, staining Paul's suit and the seat he sat on. Emma undid his seatbelt, cutting it off with a sharp piece of metal she found, and carefully slid it under his leg after using the same metal to remove the remains of his trouser leg.

"Paul, I'm making a tourniquet. Don't scream, okay? It'll hurt, but it's very important that you stay awake."

Paul nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head rest against the seat, the sweat and blood smeared on his forehead reflecting the light of a nearby streetlamp. Emma tied both ends of the seatbelt together, and broke a leg off from what was once her seat, though now covered in debris. She shook the thoughts of what could've happened to her away, instead focussing on the situation at hand. She maneuvered the pipe in between his leg and the seatbelt, and started twisting it to tighten the tourniquet.

Paul groaned, a few drops of blood dripping down his chin as he bit his lip a little too hard. Once Emma was satisfied, she tied the pipe to his leg, and rubbed her hands clean on her blouse, the once white fabric now covered in tears and red stains.

"Paul," she started, cupping his face to make him look at her. "That's good, look at me. I'm going to see if there are any cars nearby. If we're lucky, we might find one with the keys still in them."