Hatchetfield Stories

Luckily I Didn't Listen To You

Me: I don't have inspiration :(
Also me: What if... you write a helicopter crash fic... but Paul is the one who's injured
Me: Brilliant!

I asked @SameToSolane & @Ninawriting if I should do a happy or sad ending and they both said sad :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Blood
-Injury
-Gun violence
-Death

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The helicopter was going down. Emma grabbed Paul's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I love you!" she shouted, though it didn't seem like he could hear her over the sound of the helicopter and his own screams.

Their hands separated as the helicopter hit the ground. Emma got thrown out of her seat, through the open door, and fell onto the beach. Luckily, she fell on the sand. It could've been worse. Concrete, for example.

"Paul!" she shouted, standing up and looking at the helicopter. She couldn't see him. Where she had been sitting a few seconds earlier, a huge chunk of metal had pierced through the chair. Shit. She'd been very lucky that she hadn't listened to Paul when he told her to wear her seatbelt. Paul... Paul!

"Paul! Can you hear me?! Please tell me you can hear me!" She ran to the helicopter.

"Emma! I'm fine... I'm just stuck."

"Hold on! I'll come and get you!" She started pulling the metal away, and when it moved a few inches, she was met with a warm, orange glow.

"Emma! This thing is catching on fire! Hurry up!"

Emma managed to move the metal enough so she could get to Paul. His arm was bleeding heavily from where the metal had scraped him. "Shit, Paul!"

"I'm fine! Let's get out of here!"

They crawled through the open space, Paul went first, holding his arm to his chest.

When Emma followed, the fire burned her leg. She screamed but kept crawling until she was standing on the ground again. She limped to Paul, hugging him tightly. "I thought you were dead!"

"I'm not, I'm okay." He looked at her leg. "You might want to put some cold water on that."

Emma pointed at his arm. "Says the guy that is bleeding to death."

"The Hatchetfield Boating Society is not far from here. I rented a boat there once. They probably have a first aid kit and water."

Emma nodded. "Let's go."

They limped to the small building that was about a mile away from where the helicopter had crashed. "If I'd listened to you when you said I should wear a seatbelt, I would've been crushed. Luckily I didn't."

Emma could see Paul's cheeks get red in the glow of the fire. "I'm glad you didn't."

When they finally arrived at the Hatchetfield Boating Society about ten minutes later, Paul held the door open for Emma so she could limp inside. He locked the door behind them.

"Okay," Paul said, opening the register and grabbing some coins, he put them into the vending machine to get some water. "Let me see your leg."

"Dude, I'm fine. You're bleeding a lot, we should probably take care of that first."

"I'll just pour some water over the burn, it won't take long."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine."

She sighed in relief as Paul poured some water on her leg. It still hurt, but it was much more bearable now the burning had stopped.

She stood up and went behind the counter to look for a first aid kit. "Paul, sit down. I'm not a doctor, but I backpacked through Guatemala for years. I know how to stitch up small cuts like this."

"Stitches?" Paul asked, holding his arm to his chest.

"Yeah, you're bleeding like crazy." She laughed when she saw his scared expression. "Come on, dude, it's not that bad. I know what I'm doing." She lifted up her blouse to reveal a scar on her side. "See this? Stitched it myself. I fell during a climb. It hurt like hell, but it healed pretty nicely."

"Okay... Okay," he mumbled, sitting up. "Let's do this."

Emma found the first aid kit in a cabinet and put it on the counter. When she opened it, she smiled. "All the supplies I need are here." She carried the box to the small waiting area where Paul was sitting.

Emma grabbed his wrist and inspected the cut on his forearm. "Wow, that's deep. You'll be fine though." She smiled at him. "Don't pass out, or I will throw the rest of the water at you to wake you up. Maybe that's a good thing... You could use a shower, you're covered in blood."

She threaded a needle and put it down on the small table. She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and unscrewed the lid. "Hold still," she said, grabbing his wrist. Paul clenched his fists when she poured some of the alcohol over the wound.

"Okay, now for the fun part," Emma said, putting the bottle away and grabbing the needle.

"I wouldn't call it fun."

"Anyway, let's do it."

Emma grabbed his wrist tightly to make sure he couldn't move as she positioned the needle. Paul looked away. "Ready?" Emma asked.

"Just do it."

Paul was quiet as Emma stitched his arm, apart from an occasional groan. When she was done bandaging the wound and let his wrist go, he let his head fall back, closing his eyes.

"No, Paul. Eyes open. You can't pass out on me now."

Paul opened his eyes and looked at her. Emma sighed. "I guess we're stuck here for now."

Someone banged on the door. Emma turned around. "Who is it?"

"I'm from PEIP. I'm here to save you!"

Paul stood up, walking to the door.

Paul gasped when he opened the door. "General McNamara..."

The man grinned. "That's right, kiddo. I'm here to save ya."

He grabbed his gun from his belt and pointed it at Paul, who instinctively put his hands in the air. Emma did the same.

A gunshot. Paul was on the floor.

"Paul!" Emma screamed.

"Emma, I assume?" general McNamara asked. Emma nodded slowly. The general smiled. "Goodbye."

BANG!

"America is great again."