Chapter Text
"ANDY!!" a voice called out, sounding of fear and apprehension. "ANDY!! ANDY PLEASE!!" the voice continued to shout, quivering, almost shaky, "ANDY!! c'mon man.. snap out of it.. HE'S BLEEDING OUT!!!" The words that sounded far away, were suddenly closer, bringing me back from the darkness that was my mind, and now i can see clearly, I can feel the room almost closing in, feel the lights blinding my sensitive eyes, its making my head pound, its making me more aware to the fact that i can feel my legs going numb, feel my heart pound in my chest, and my breathing get quicker.
Being much more aware now, I look over to the stranger, he's holding something… no, no he’s dragging something.. Awe fuck. its another fucking body.. Fuck.. fuck. Fucking god damnit. I watch a few seconds longer as he continues to drag the body across the floor, the man's full combat gear on, and his blood staining the dirty floor. The once camouflage green of his uniform, now dark with the browns and reds of his own blood and the dirt from outside.
I feel my body move, grabbing the nearest empty stretcher right from the side of the room, I feel my mouth moving, telling the man where to place his fallen comrade, I feel my mouth moving, it's moving but I can't hear myself talk, my ears fill with the sound of running water, and then they just start to ring, almost getting louder and louder, doing nothing but making me wish I was dead. It really makes me wish i didn’t have to see all the blood and gore of everyone that's fallen, its a truly horrific sight that i don't even wish upon my worst enemy, oh fucking damnit they don't deserve this, they don't. I wish they could just go home. That they would just go home and be with their loved ones. And once again I find myself berating them for having the guts and stupidity for being here in the first place.
I awake with gasping for air, i shot up sitting with my eyes wide and frantic, trying to assess my situation, trying to show myself that I'm not there anymore, I'm not in that grimey old med tent breathing heavily silently listing everything around me, “coffee table, not a gurney, old coffee cups not a blood pan.. This is a home not a tent.. This is a home not a tent, home, not tent.. Not a tent..” he kept muttering to himself, reassuring that he was not drafted, that he hasn’t been in 3 years.
The shit that happened in that tent he doesn't wish upon anyone, saving, losing, fucking amputating people. No.. nope, nothing, not there anymore, he knows that.. He knows. But fuck People, real people with family’s, with wives, children, still living parents, out on the battlefield one second… and in the next... they’re with me, hoping, praying to be saved. They’re hopeful to not feel the terrifying pain of getting his or her leg blown off, or the shot to their chest.
That fucking place, its a place that death has become both my enemy and my best and only friend.
But there's none of that, no med tent, no gory wounds, and nobody screaming in his face in agony, or anger.. just silence, or as silent as it's gonna get. The un-dead, or better yet the rotter's are everywhere, searching for their next meal, one I definitely am not.
Getting up, I did another basic check on my surroundings, though this one a lot less frantic, quietly taking note on what might have changed in the few hours I was sleeping, the room has brightened as the sun had risen to the middle of the sky, showing that it was now around noon, there where less rotter's walking about outside the small house, but otherwise my stuff had stayed where i had left it, telling me that nobody has made their way inside. my tactical pack is still filled with all my gear and rations, thankfully my crossbody is still filled with my BB's and ammunition. I strapped on all of my holsters, the ones on my legs and much smaller ones on my arms, these ones holding a hatchet, throwing knives, and a small handgun. Across my back lays my pack with my shotgun hanging on the left side of it, and a quiver filled with arrows within reach strapped to the other side of my pack. All that leaves is my longbow, once I swung it on my shoulder I paced the house doing another check for supplies.
Once i reached the bathroom i am equally surprised and delighted to find a couple rolls of toilet paper, “fucking hell its been days since I've found goodies like this” i chuckled to myself putting the rolls into my pack, and making my way out of that trashy house.