King of the Woods, or Trivial Pursuit

Part 36 - Clot

"Is this bad? It looks bad. Why doesn't it hurt? Should I put pressure somewhere?" Ray babbled like a brook. His blood flowed like a lazy river through a water park, except the water was dark plum and kids weren't peeing in it. Thankfully, he didn't spurt; rivers don't, especially not lazy ones. If the crazy witch who sliced his arm open wanted to drink his blood, she'd have to work for it.

In a hoarse voice, Audubon said, "Get yourself together, Ray." She cackled, winced, and rubbed her throat.

Ray wobbled. Trivia gently lowered him and cradled him in her lap. Wilson and Roosevelt attended her.

"From this angle, your deer looks more like a lamb." Audubon snapped her fingers. "Merde. I should have done both wrists!"

Ray lamented her comparison to the Pietà once he comprehended it. He had been enjoying floating in Trivia's strong, cozy arms. Now he prayed that he would exsanguinate before developing an Oedipus complex, or Madonna complex, or whatever. Audubon's diabolism knew no bounds.

"Stay still," Trivia said, elevating and squeezing his injured arm. "You'll be okay."

If necessary, Ray would swallow the entire lake, like a Chinese brother in a folk tale, to purge any Freudian associations from memory. But it wasn't necessary: Trivia did not weep for him, or wail, or rage at Audubon. She remained calm, and he followed her lead.

"I've lost comrades before," she had said. "I've lost wars." Neither mother nor mourner, then, but combat medic.

Trivia could not cover Ray's wound alone. Roosevelt aided her, and Wilson contributed his scarf. "It's mostly clean, and caramel's good on a wound. Or was that honey?"

Ray was pretty sure it was honey. He yelped; If Roosevelt squeezed his arm any harder, his eyeballs would start bleeding.

"Careful," Wilson said. "Ray's got bones on the inside." Roosevelt gave Ray a sheepish smile and reduced the pressure from agonizing to miserable.

"Am I going to die?" Ray asked.

"I won't let you," Trivia said.

"Come on, Ray. I hit a vein," Audubon said. "Take a joke."

"Your jokes aren't funny anymore," Wilson said, adjusting his trench coat to cover his face.

"You haven't heard the punchline yet," Audubon said.

Ray hoped that the punchline didn't involve Audubon dipping her talons into Hepatitis C before slicing him.

"You can't treat Ray like that," Trivia said. "He's—"

Ray caught Trivia's eye. Don't say fragile, he thought.

"—He doesn't heal like we do," Trivia said.

"So I am going to die?" Ray said.

"Of course!" Audubon said.

"I meant like, in the immediate future," Ray said, in an annoyed tone.

"You have a while. But why put off until tomorrow..." Audubon said.

"You haven't lost much blood, but there will be a scar," Trivia said.

Ray sat up. "That's going to be fun to explain. Sorry for ruining your dress. And your scarf, Wilson."

"It's no trouble," Wilson said.

"What did I say last time?" Trivia said, showing her bloody palms.

"You're bound to get blood on you," Ray said. "Or I am, or something. Is that why you're taking this so well?"