Hatchetfield Stories

Drowning

It was my birthday yesterday and I got those dice with pictures on them that you can use to make a story and they're so fun!! This is probably not something I would've written otherwise so thank my aunts for the content lmao

Writing in my expensive writing software❎
Writing in the notes app on my phone✅

TRIGGER WARNINGS
-Almost drowning
-Mild injury

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Emma squeezed Paul's hand as the helicopter went down, the lake below them coming dangerously close.

They plunged into the freezing water, and Paul swam out of the aircraft before they could get stuck as it rapidly sank to the bottom of the lake, pulling Emma with him.

Emma screamed as her leg got stuck, but nothing more than a few air bubbles came from her mouth, and a mouthful of water went down her throat. It was pitch-black, and she could feel Paul tugging at her arm, but she was stuck. Paul was by her side, trying to figure out what was wrong, but in the darkness, he had to rely on his other senses, feeling for her.

He put his hand on her back, as if to tell her she'd be okay, and he was gone, swimming up to the surface to get air.

Emma, however, did not have the privilege of being able to breathe. She was tugging at her leg, but before she knew it, Paul was back, digging under her leg to free her from the weight of the helicopter.

It didn't take long before her leg came loose, but she scraped it as she pulled it free, against a rock or a piece of debris, it was impossible to tell. Pain shot up her leg and she swam away from the helicopter.

Paul wrapped his arms around her, and swam to the surface.

Emma coughed and gasped for air as Paul struggled to keep them both above the water.

By the looks of it, they were in the middle of the lake, way too far to swim to the shore of either Hatchetfield or Clivesdale.

Emma was still gasping for air, not able to use her leg to stay above the surface.

"Emma," Paul said, adjusting his grip on her. "Just try to float, okay? I'll keep us above the water."

Emma let herself go limp, and Paul started swimming towards the pillars of the Nantucket Bridge, hoping they could hold onto them as they came up with a plan.

The water was ice cold, and they were shivering, teeth clattering as they tried to think of a solution to their problem.

"Fuck, it's cold," Emma cursed. "I can barely feel my legs anymore. I almost drowned, I do not want to have to add hypothermia to our problems."

Paul let out a chuckle, looking around as they held onto the pillar. "Yeah, I doubt we'll be able to swim to the shore."

Emma nodded, her eyes widening when she heard the whirring of an engine. "Paul! A boat!"

Sure enough, a boat approached them, and they waved their arms, until a flashlight shone straight at them.

Emma laughed. "We made it, Paul!"

The boat stopped next to them, and they swam toward it, gratefully climbing into it. A blanket was wrapped around them, and one of the soldiers on board introduced herself as Colonel Schaffer, special unit P.E.I.P, they call it PEIP.

"We didn't think there'd be survivors," she admitted. "But we got news a thirty-something male and his girlfriend were still alive." Paul opened his mouth to protest, but the woman continued. "So when we lost contact with our troops, we knew we had to go into the field to help."

They made their way to the shore, where a truck was waiting for them. Emma's leg buckled when she tried to get up.

"You're injured?" Paul asked, concern clear in his voice.

"I scraped my leg," Emma explained. "I'll be fine."

"Come with us," the Colonel said. "We need to make sure you're not one of them zombies."

So when they finally got to PEIP's camp, they took vial after vial of their blood, while a medic stitched up Emma's leg. The cut was deep but small, so it didn't take long before they were cleared to go, and led to the sleeping quarters.

"We made it, Paul!"