Hatchetfield Stories

But Not Like This

I'm sick so here's part 2 of me using my story dice.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Injury
-Needles

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Emma lay in a puddle of her own blood, alone, scared, and injured. Paul had left over an hour ago, and she was losing hope. Her leg throbbed agonizingly, Paul's tie still tied tightly around her thigh. She was shivering, her blouse doing little to keep her warm in the evening breeze, and her leg protested at the movements, incredible pain shooting up and down her leg like lightning.

It had been completely silent, so when she heard the faint whirring of another helicopter, she sat up immediately, waving her arms above her head.

"Ma'am," someone spoke into a megaphone. "Stay where you are with your hands in the air, someone is coming down to get you."

Someone descended from the aircraft, and landed next to her, inspecting her leg with a flashlight.

"Don't worry, we'll get you to safety," the soldier said, pocketing the flashlight. "I'm going to pick you up now. We can't get you in a harness with your leg, so just hold on tight."

Emma hesitated, debating if she should wait for Paul, but the blood loss would soon become too much, so going with this soldier was her only option if she wanted to survive.

Emma bit her lip as she was lifted into the air, and the soldier signaled to his colleagues to lift them into the helicopter.

As soon as they were in the helicopter, multiple people crowded around Emma, inspecting her leg, and bombarding her with questions as they helped her into a seat. "We have to cut this mission short and get her to the base before we can continue," someone said, Emma assumed it was a medic, because he was the only one wearing a lab coat instead of a uniform. He turned to Emma. "Don't worry, you'll be fine." He grabbed a first aid kit, and pulled a syringe from the bag.

Emma tensed. "What are you doing with that?"

"You've been losing blood for over an hour. If I don't do anything, you might not even make it to the hospital. Plus, we have to make sure you're not a threat to us." He uncapped the syringe, and Emma's hand went to her neck, where professor Hidgens had injected her with whatever knocked her out.

'Okay's tumbled from her lips as the man came closer, an alcohol wipe in his hand. He disinfected the skin, and injected the sedative into her body. It didn't take long for her to feel the effect of the drugs, her eyes got heavier and soon slipped close.

*** *** ***

Emma woke up with a groan, blinking slowly to try and clear her vision. An IV went into her arm, probably pumping strong painkillers into her body, because she could barely feel her leg.

"Ah, Miss Perkins, I see you're awake," a soldier sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed spoke up. "Let me get the doctor."

She looked around as the soldier stood up and left the room. It was clearly a hospital room, her fragile body hooked up to various machines. There were no windows in the room, but according to the digital clock on the nightstand next to the bed, it was late in the afternoon already. The surgery must've taken a long time.

"Emma," the medic from before spoke as he entered the room. "I'm glad to see you awake. Mind if I sit while I walk you through what happened?" he asked, not waiting for her response.

"Once we got to PEIP's base, you were rushed into surgery. It was tough, but we managed to save your leg, though I don't expect you to be walking anytime soon. When you got out of surgery, we made sure you weren't one of them, and though we did find a small amount of spores in your lungs, we are certain your immune system will take care of it just fine. We will have to monitor you closely over the next few weeks, because we don't want a repeat of what happened in Hatchetfield."

He stood up, grabbing a clipboard. "As for your recovery, that could take months, or even years. Your femur was completely shattered, and your muscles were damaged pretty badly. You might want to consider purchasing a wheelchair."

Emma nodded, slowly processing his words through the haze of painkillers. "What about the others, are there more survivors?"

The medic avoided her gaze as he spoke. "As of right now, there are no survivors. PEIP is working hard to develop a cure, but they are violent creatures. If they can't be contained in Hatchetfield, we will have to put an end to this without at least attempting to save them."

She chose to ignore that last statement, clinging to the idea of seeing Paul again.

All she wanted was to see him again, to look up into those beautiful blue eyes.

And so, for two weeks, Emma hoped that one day, they could be reunited.

Emma, I'm sorry...

But not like this.