The Railroad

Chapter 33

The brunet lowered him to the ground and inspected the hole in his arm, seeping with blood that was soaking his shirt, with worry in his eyes. It evaporated quickly as he took on science mode and instructed Punz on what he needed to do. George then took off his shirt--the horribly white, perfect shirt--and tore it down the middle, tying it around the wound tightly. He then put Dream's jacket backed on and zipped it up, so as to hide his bare skin.

Once he was secure, the two hoisted the blond onto their shoulders and worked together to drag him to the lab, which was on the fifth floor. It was only two flights of stairs up: they could do it.

It proved to be a much harder task than George had originally thought it to be, but he was determined. There was no way in hell he was going to allow anything to happen to Dream, especially not due to something that is easily preventable, such as a bullet wound in the shoulder. This was his work, his lifeline, and he would be damned if he couldn't patch this up and get Dream back to his normal self.

As they took on the painstaking job of pulling the bulky, unconscious male up the stairs, it was easy to ignore the new bodies George had seen: Hannah's and then Boomer's in the hall. He hadn't fully processed either yet and intended to ignore them as long as he could. Now was not the time.

Once they made it up to the lab, Punz continued to take Dream to a table while George got all the supplies he could think of off the top of his head. He grabbed things for stitching as well as gauze, several wet and dry rags, rubbing alcohol, and whatever painkillers caught his eye first. Then he took it all back to where Punz was waiting next to Dream and got to work.

The brunet didn't allow his emotions to cloud his judgement; he acted with the same precision and caution as he would if this were some random person coming in off the street. Before the whole zombie apocalypse thing, George had always wanted to be a doctor: he'd trained for it, got the degrees, went through the whole spiel, but in the end got stuck looking for an impossible to find cure. Only to find it in the end. And now, here he was, finally being able to do what he'd always wanted and operate on a person, to help someone, and it was the love of his life who was only in the situation in the first place thanks to his own careless actions.

Pushing all that to the side of his, George grabbed his tweezers and began to extract the bullet still in Dream's shoulder. He heard Punz make a noise of disgust while watching the brunet do this before walking away, but it didn't affect George. He dug around until the tweezers grasped the metal casing of the bullet and he carefully pulled it out, praying that the small amount morphine was enough to keep Dream under.

Once it was out, he grabbed one of the dry rags and used it to put pressure on the wound while he used the wet rag to clean up the surrounding skin.

"Punz, hold this rag firm right here, just like this," he told the blond, who did what he was told hesitantly.

While Punz held the rag, George grabbed another and put a generous amount of the rubbing alcohol onto it. He then shooed Punz's hand away, gently applying the rag to the area around the wound, not in it. Contrary to popular belief, putting it directly into a cut could damage the tissue and potentially slow the healing process, while using it around it could delay infection until the wound could be properly dealt with.

After it had been cleaned and the blood had temporarily stopped flowing, George took the needle and thread and began to do a standard over and over continuous stitch. Punz went back to not looking as George did this, grossed out by the sight.

Dream stirred a little beneath him: clearly they hadn't given him the correct dose of morphine. Luckily, he shouldn't feel it too much. He grunted, eyes fluttering open and staring up at George with a confused expression.

"Shhh," George murmured, not pausing what he was doing. "I'm almost done, just hold on a little longer, okay?"

Dream complied, screwing his eyes shut as the tugging sensation continued in his arm. It may not hurt, but it was definitely uncomfortable. But he trusted George to take care of him and didn't want to make this job any harder for him.

After a few more of the unnerving tugs, it finally stopped as George snipped the last bit of thread and tied it. He took the wet rag and turned it to a clean part, cleaning up any messy or bloody spot still left. Finally, he took the gauze and gingerly wrapped it around the blond's shoulder, using the medical tape to secure it in place.

He sighed and smiled, pleased with himself. Quickly, he washed his hands and returned to Dream's side, running a hand through the golden curls atop his head and smiling down and him lovingly.

"Thanks for saving me, princess," Dream whispered, taking George's free hand with the arm that didn't get shot. But it was George's hurt hand, still in bandages of its own.

"Don't worry about it. It's my job, after all."

Dream smiled wider and kissed the palm of George's hand, pecking each individual finger tip. The brunet giggled, trying to pull his hand away but failing as Dream tightened his grip, but not enough to hurt him. The taller yanked him down towards the table, propping himself up on his elbow to meet him halfway and kiss the other.

"Damn I've missed you," Dream murmured into George's ear when they separated.

"This is all very sweet and all," Punz interrupted, "but can we please ago? Because I'm sure they know somethings up by now and I would rather not be the next one on this table with a bullet in my arm."

"Right."

George helped Dream sit up and regain his balance as he stood. He was wobbly at first from the drugs and slight blood loss, but was quick to recover. And soon, he had taken George's hand and was leading him out the door after Punz.

He'd spent enough time in this section of the building to be somewhat accustomed to its hallways, so he was finally able to lead. The blond took them to the stairs and began to run down the stairs three at a time, leaving a winded George behind him, struggling to keep up with his pace and long legs.

"Dream," he panted, "please slow down!"

Dream didn't get the message quick enough and ended up taking George down too many more stairs too early, making the brunet trip. He fell face first down the steps, right into Dream's waiting arms. He was aware of the burn in his shoulder at the impact, but he shoved the pain away and focused on helping George.

"I'm sorry," he said to the brunet with a guilty expression, but George simply shook his head and grabbed his hand again, this time being the one to pull them down.

They continued down until the first floor, where they paused at the door. Punz looked through the square window that showed into the main hallway, checking to make sure the coast was clear before they revealed themselves. The precarious situation was not helpful in the slightest to calm any of the three, who desperately just wanted to get away.

Dream was thinking of Boomer, the way the life drained from his eyes so slowly yet so quickly. He was so young; Dream wished he could've done something to help him, to save him. It was no use worrying about it now, however. No amount of guilt that he felt would change the outcome of what happened. Death was permanent, and none of the people he'd killed or had seen be killed would return: his father, Corpse, the five zombies he'd shot that day, Wilbur, Boomer, Hannah. None of them.

And George's father would never be able to come back and hurt anyone once they'd finally gotten rid of him.

Wait a minute...

They were supposed to leave and get the cure somewhere safe, like Sapnap's place, and then return to stop George's dad. That was the plan they'd come up with earlier, before he and Boomer had left to get the cure.

The cure...

"Oh no."

~Word count: 1,427~

A/N: so i won't be able to upload at this time tomorrow or friday since i'll be out of town, but i will upload again in about... 14 or 15 hours. im going with four more chapters?