#imafirefly1

@imafirefly

     HE HAD HOPED THAT THEY might have found shelter before the winter storm hit. Obviously, they weren’t that lucky. As they carefully picked their way across the snow-covered rooftops - it was better to be up high where you had less chance of running into Infected - the cold blanket had already reached his knee, and they could barely see their hands in front of their faces.

     If only they had stopped. If only they had been more careful. If only… if only… There was no use thinking about the possibilities now.

     The thick layer of snow beneath their boots had covered up the sound of glass breaking and shattering, though the piercing scream coming from Abby as she suddenly disappeared from view was clearly audible.

     HAD HE IMAGINED ANOTHER RESPONSE from Abby when she was told he was bitten? If he was being honest with himself, would HE have responded any differently? In part, he was grateful for her attempt to come up with an answer, but would any of them work? Really work? Was taking his arm going to save his life, or just confirm his death? Moments of deadly silence hang between the two of them as he contemplates the idea. He had been a soldier with the Fireflies. Was a soldier once again when they joined the WLF. What was he going to do with just one arm? He was going to be useless to everyone. Though, on the other hand, he would be even more useless dead.

     He stared at Abby for a few moments longers, trying to WILL the words past his lips. “Do it,” he finally managed, looking around for a surface that was flat and sturdy enough to work for them. “We’ll…” He swallowed, still trying to wrap his head around the decision. “We’ll need fire.” The whole thing was going to be less than sterile, but they had no choice. There was probably not enough time to return to base and find a doctor to do it the right way. “That ax sharp enough, you think?” He asked, nodding towards the tool on her belt.

     He tried his very best to stay FOCUSED, to not think about the pain and the possibility of bleeding out when they went through with this. Instead, he tried to make a list of what needed to be done and gathered to make this happen.

Make sure the ax is sharp

Find a sturdy and somewhat clean surface

Fire

Alcohol, both for sterilizing and for drinking

…

     He stood perfectly still after her had said the words out loud, waiting for Abby’s response. They had both lost enough people, and then some, that he had a feeling how she was going to respond to the situation. They had been so careful, had always made sure that they were safe, clean, unmarked. But there had been too many of them this time, they had gotten swarmed, overrun. And he had still tried his very best to stay out of reach of the chomping teeth, the clawing nails. It had been for nothing though. He hadn’t even felt the bite at first, had just continued on. But his attention had been drawn to the sleeve of his jacket, which was slowly soaking through with blood. The first couple of seconds, he had refused to acknowledge the fact that it was happening and that he - despite not having yet looked - knew what it was.

     But he wasn’t going to be one of /those/ people. The ones that attempted to hide their wounds from their friends and fellow-survivors, only to turn in the dead of night and kill all of them. He wasn’t going to be one of those. He wasn’t going to take down Abby with him. He couldn’t.

     When she finally responds, it’s exactly what he had expected. She didn’t believe him. Didn’t believe what was happening until she’d seen it with her own eyes. Fair enough. He would have asked the same of her if the roles were reversed.