Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Caz]

She made a small, defeated sound as he cleaned the wound, eyes clenched shut as her nails dug into the arm of the sofa. After he'd finished and done what he could with the cut--the puncture where the claw had gone in could possibly be deep enough to have caused some damage to something vital, but they couldn't tell for sure--she lifted her arms over her head as he wound the bandages around her torso. It was apparent by both her posture and the strange lumps beneath the skin around the wound that several of her ribs were broken, the visceral membrane beneath her skin distended and swelling as blood pooled beneath, forming dark bruises down her side as well as on her chest and hips.

All in all, it looked fairly grim. But she didn't bother telling him all of that because he was a doctor and could see... and also because there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it for the time being.

"Thank you," she said, then stretched out over the bare couch and exhaled a deep breath.

Fortunately, it hadn't hurt as bad as Mike had obviously assumed it was. Down her entire left side she was mostly numb--a side-effect of the tissue damage she'd suffered during the fire.

[Josh]

"Alright," he said. "Standard watches, I'll lead off, Sherry's up next..." he rattled down the line. "Get your sleep while you can, people."

He sat back from the window, getting into a position where he wouldn't be easily spotted from the outside.

[Caz]

Sherry nodded. "Right," she said, "Mike, come help me block up this window, will you?"

The two shoved the heavy wooden bookcase over the broken windowpane, blocking out the wind and the rain that would probably come later. Malton was damn rainy lately.

[Josh]

He nodded and went to look at the bedroom. He didn't stop as he passed Gwen, and then shifted a shelf over to block that window as well.

"Bed's still good, sorta," he said. It had been a rather incongruous sight, a king-sized bed in a little bedroom, it didn't leave a lot of maneuvering room. The mattress was soggy, but still had bounce to it.

[Caz]

The suggestion was duly noted by Sherry and Dr. Freeman, who could care less about things like soggy mattresses after being in Malton for so long after the outbreak. Which left Steve with the option of plunking down into the armchair in the room and resting his head on the desk, much like Petro must have done during those attempts at studying during college.

[Josh]

The rest of the Irregulars found reasonably horizontal spaces to doss down as Petro moved to sit opposite the door, returning Mike's rifle in favor of his shotgun. He settled down on the floor, knees pulled pulled up with the shotgun resting across them, and stared at the door.

[Caz]

Gwendolyn, too, tried to sleep. But ever since she'd been attacked--the gash to her side and the bite on her wrist, which she'd fortunately patched up herself--she'd had trouble doing so. She knew she was running a fever, that something in the thing's saliva was reacting to her blood, but she didn't know how to fix it or do a damn thing about it.

As long as she stayed still, didn't move much, it was okay...

But walking up those stairs had been a battle, and she'd been stifling heavy coughs since. She held her sides as she coughed into the arm of the couch, lungs straining and throat burning.

[Josh]

He listened to the cough, steeling himself.

She was dead already. He'd seen the look on Mike's face, and without proper care, she wasn't going to make it.

They were going to have to leave her behind.

God damn it, he needed to stay focused. She was just another fucking deader in a town full of them. The Caiger was his responsibility, not random people on the streets.

He argued with himself for a few more seconds, already knowing he was going to lose this one, and rose to his feet suddenly, moving over to sit next to the couch, putting his hand on her head, which he was reasonably sure wasn't injured.

[Caz]

She opened her eyes. They were swollen and bloodshot. She looked nothing like when he'd met her before: her hair was gone, hacked off crudely, her face puffed and scraped, just like all of those who lived on the streets appeared.

Looking up to him, she didn't say a thing. Her throat hurt anyway, but more than that, it was just too damn awkward.

[Josh]

He didn't say anything either. What the hell was there to say? He could offer some platitudes, that was about it. He gently stroked the side of her head and decided that they could spare some morphine, fuck all. They wouldn't just leave her to die.

[Caz]

She closed her eyes again.

"I'm glad you made it," she said quietly.

[Josh]

He brushed the hair from her face. "I always do," he said quietly.

[Caz]

She smiled. "You seem to."

And after a long pause that would have been uncomfortable if she'd had the energy to be, she coughed a bit and then said: "You know, I never stopped thinking about you."

A typical reaction for an impressionable female who'd had her life saved by a dapper hero such as himself.

[Josh]

He repressed a grimace. Being discovered by the mayor in bed with his daughter had not been a pleasant memory. At least, the career consequences afterward had been rather depressing.

"It was one hell of a night," he agreed. "Glad I could be there for you."

[Caz]

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" she asked. Not regretful about it. Just curious acceptance.

[Josh]

"Probably," he said. "I'm sorry."

Always inadequate for the task, but what the hell else was there to say? There wasn't anything in the English language up to it.

[Caz]

She let out a tiny sigh, then smiled. "Gave 'em a damn good run for their money, at least," she said proudly. "There had to have been over a hundred... I gave 'em what for."

[Josh]

At first, he felt a surge of pride at how well they'd done. But...

"Where?" he asked.

A hundred, within a relatively short lurch of the Caiger?

[Caz]

"Gulsonside," she said, then coughed again. "I managed to kill a few by kicking over some gas cans and lighting 'em up... then the whole school went up... what is it with me and fire, eh?"

She laughed, a weak and sickly sound.

[Josh]

"You always were the wild one," he said. He put the shotgun on his old coffee table and gently lifted her up, settling down on the couch so she could rest in his lap. "Just rest easy, girl. You've done your work. Now I gotta do some of mine."

He reached over to his pack, pulling the radio out. They were out of range of the mall itself, but the patrol stations were still in reach.

Turning on the radio, he checked in, going through the identification protocols.

[Caz]

"What... what are you guys doing anyway?" she asked, curious as she listened to both the radio and what he was saying. "You're not... military..." she fumbled for a word, but couldn't come up with anything better.

[Josh]

"Might as well be," he said. "Since the Regulars got their asses handed to them, we're all that's left."

He continued his report, passing along a couple of choice code words and numbers. Only Frank and Silver would know what it meant, and when it went through, the Caiger would be on full war footing while the patrols stretched out to see if the horde was coming their way.

[Caz]

"So you're fighting them?" she asked, not specifying whether or not the unspecified 'them' meant the undead or someone else.

[Josh]

"Yeah," he said. "We've blocked off the Caiger, fortified it, centralized the food and water supplies, and we're holding on until somebody upstairs gets off their ass and relieves us." He put the radio back into his pack after turning it off, and resumed stroking her forehead.

[Caz]

She seemed to try to say something, but couldn't find a way to articulate it, and instead just stayed silent. She'd never been good with things like that. Being raised as she was, she had trouble relating to most people. And the outbreak hadn't changed any of that.

"I always wanted to see you again," she whispered.