Hatchetfield Stories

Hey Mister Business, How Do You Do?

I'm sorry for the open ending lol

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Gun violence
-Injury
-Blood

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"Oh God, no! General McNamara, they got you too!" Paul said.

"Who's general McNamara?" Emma asked.

"He was a good man."

All the aliens turned to face the two. "Sir, it's Paul!"

Paul grabbed Emma's shoulders. "Run, Emma! RUN!"

Emma and Paul ran through the crowd of aliens as they continued their song. A loud bang sounded through the streets. A gunshot, Emma realized, just before the bullet hit her leg. At first, the pain wasn't too bad, but after a few seconds, her leg started feeling like it was on fire.

Paul turned around as he heard the gunshot, his eyes widening. He caught Emma as she stumbled into his arms. "Shhh, Emma, it's okay," he whispered, shielding her from the danger. "Ted, I knew I couldn't trust you with a gun!" Ted cursed as he tried to fire more bullets at the pair, but the gun was empty. "I'll get us out of here," Paul said, lifting Emma into his arms and making his way through the crowd.

Emma was pretty out of it, the pain in her leg was enough to make her want to cry, yet the tears wouldn't come. She stared at Paul as he carried her further into the park.

"There's a restaurant in this park. They probably have a first aid kit there. I mean, even the best chefs chop off their fingers sometimes." He chuckled at his own joke, before frowning. "Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay? No, wait, that's a dumb question. You just got shot. I mean, are you... Can you... How bad is the pain?"

"It hurts."

Paul chuckled. "I mean, that's kind of the point of being injured..."

Emma raised an eyebrow.

"I mean... I'm sorry. Ted's an asshole, even if he's not infected. I don't know why I let him take that gun from me."

"It's okay. It just hurts, you know?" Emma could feel blood dripping down her leg. "Are we almost there?"

"Yeah, almost. It's just... I have no clue what to do. I mean, gunshot wounds weren't a part of the first aid lessons I took at work."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out."

They entered a small building. Paul gently put Emma down on a couch and moved the table away so he could crouch down next to her. "I'm going to find a first aid kit. I'll be right back."

He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Emma looked around, focusing on the interior of the restaurant in an attempt to distract herself from the pain.

After a few minutes, Paul came back. He put the first aid kit on the table and sat on his knees next to Emma. "Emma, you have to lie on your front, okay? I'm going to help you turn around." Emma nodded. "Okay, one, two, three!" He helped her lie down so he could clearly see the wound on her leg.

"Is it bad?" Emma grunted.

"I don't see an exit wound. The bullet is still in there."

Emma lifted herself on her elbows so she could look at Paul. "Nope. You're not doing this. Stitches, okay. But I'm not letting you do things that might make it worse."

Paul eased her back down. "You don't really have a choice, Em. This is the apocalypse, remember?"

"Are there any painkillers in that box?"

Paul looked through the contents of the box. "Yes, but it'll take a while for them to kick in."

"Ugh, great." Emma watched as Paul stood up and filled a glass with water at the bar.

"Here you go," he said, handing her the glass and some painkillers. Emma took them gratefully.

"Let's do this," she said as she gave the glass back.

Paul grabbed tweezers out of the box. "I'm sorry, Em." He sat down next to her and put one hand just above the wound to keep her leg still as he started looking for the bullet.

Emma clenched her fists. "Fuck! Fuck, that hurts!"

"I know, Emma. You're doing great."

"Can you find it?" she asked, though it came out as a whimper.

"Hold on... Yes, I got it," Paul said, carefully pulling it out. He placed it on the table and grabbed some alcohol. Emma cried out as he poured some in the wound. "You're doing great, Emma," he reassured her.

Emma was mostly silent as Paul stitched the wound. Paul was talking to her, but she couldn't focus on his words. His voice calmed her down, and the painkillers were working. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Paul, I'm tired."

"I suppose you can sleep. I'll protect you."

"Thanks."

She was asleep within a minute.

*** *** ***

When she woke up, they were in a helicopter. Paul grabbed her hand when he noticed she was awake. "It's okay, we're safe. We're getting out of here."

Emma nodded. "Thanks, Paul."

Paul smiled at her. "I told you I'd protect you."

Emma chuckled. "This is so fucked up. Singing aliens? Who the fuck came up with that?"

Paul laughed. "I sure as hell didn't." He looked out of the window. "We're here. We're safe. We made it out of there."

Emma smiled. "We survived the apocalypse!"

"Hey, mister business, how do you do?"