I n f i n i t u m

Chapter Fifteen

I stared down at the four makeshift crosses before me.

I didn't have the heart to leave them, but after an hour, Teejay finally approached and guided me into the lodge. It felt wrong when we stepped in. The home we called our own was now cold and empty. Teejay and I ambled to the couch, where Jess was resting, her hair stuck to her face slick with sweat. The wound had finally stopped bleeding, but as for the rest, Teejay and I were clueless.

"When I bandaged her up, I noticed an exit wound, so at least the bullet isn't still in her," Teejay's voice was as vacant as I felt, "I packed in some tissue into the holes to stop the bleeding, but she probably needs stitches, and I..."

I nodded my head in understanding, "I'll do it. Go and get some rest."

He hesitated for a long moment and I watched sullenly as he wiped at his eyes, his shoulders trembling, "Fang..."

"Please. Not yet."

He nodded and walked away silently, going into the cabin room. When he shut the door, absolute silence blanketed everything. It was like there was this intense pressure in my chest that needed to be released, but I wasn't allowing it to.

I walked to the kitchen to wash my hands, then returned to Jess' side, where I pulled up a chair and positioned the first aid kit by her head. Making sure to be gentle, I lifted up her shirt and peeled away at the bandages Teejay had previously wrapped, slowly revealing the swollen wound with the inner packings soaked red. Back in the Hero Corps, I learned a few things about gunshot wounds, so while I was nervous about dealing with the real thing, I was knowledgable at the very least.

I removed the packed tissue slowly but efficiently, only quickening my pace when the wound began to bleed again, "This is going to hurt, Jess."

She didn't say anything, but her left brow furrowed. I poured the antiseptic alcohol into the hole and all around, holding Jess down as she cried out painfully. I went at it until the bottle was half empty, dried the area, then got the needle ready and began to sew.

Jess moaned and I murmured a soft response, "I know. I don't like it either. This is disgusting."

Before I finished up the last stitch, I stuck in a draining tube, then carefully turned her onto her side to work on the back wound. Once I tied off the last knot, I applied a bandage over the two wounds and wrapped her waist taut, making sure that the draining tube and bag weren't disturbed. I placed a blanket over her and walked to the kitchen to wash my hands again. Clean, I lowered into the cushioned chair and watched Jess, slowly letting sleep take over me.

.

.

.

"Oh, fuck."

I roused at the sound of a familiar voice and opened my eyes to the sight of Jess standing up, staring down at her naked stomach.

"Why does my stomach hurt like a bitch?"

I got up from my seat to ease her back onto the couch, only cringing when my body ached from having slept in a chair for who knows how long. I swatted her hand away when she poked at the sandwich bag half-filled with blood, tucked into the waistband of her jeans.

"You're recovering from a bullet wound, Jess, don't mess with it," I urged sternly, "It's going to hurt for a week or two. You're going to have to get used to it."

Jess swept back her unkept hair from her eyes and a look of uncertainty crossed her face, "Fang, what the fuck happened? All I remember is seeing your face before I passed out. Where's everyone else?"