My dad heard my shout and turned around, his eyes set on us. He started making his way over but was immediately stopped by a small Awakened woman. She had launched herself at him, and he was quickly distracted, fighting her off. I looked at our three temporary companions, but they were all busy taking down the rest of the group.
“Let him go,” I repeated.
The man laughed. “Oh, sure, little girl. I’ll let him go. After I enjoy a little snack.” He proceeded to sink his teeth into Ash’s shoulder. Ash cried out, his hands scrambling at the arms that held him tight. He started dragging him away, and I lost it.
I ran forward, jumping on the back of the Awakened, my gun pressed to his neck. The man dropped Ash, his arms coming up to claw at my grip, and Ash rolled out of the way. I fired and he went down. I fell onto the floor, the breath knocked out of me.
“Are you okay?” Ash asked, again, falling to his knees next to me.
“I’m fine,” I said, sitting up and wincing. I looked around us and saw that the others had taken out the Awakened with ease. I watched as Memphis drove the butt of his gun at the head of the last one. I glanced around me, making sure there were none lurking in the shadows of the trees before turning back to Ash. “Let me see your shoulder.”
Ash shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I said firmly. “Come here.”
He relented, failing to his knees next to me. I peeled back the torn fabric of his shirt, sticky with warm blood. I leaned forward and inspected the gash. “It’s deep but you’re not going to die. Unfortunately.” I smiled up at him, and he smiled back looking surprised. “You probably need stitches though. I’m not sure, but I think so.”
I pulled off the t-shirt I was wearing and pressed it against his shoulder. I was grateful that I was wearing layers and had thought to wear a tank top under the shirt I was wearing. Still the act of removing of an article of clothing in front of Ash made me feel incredibly self-conscious.
“Are you guys okay?” my dad said, crouching by us.
“He got bit,” I said, looking up at him. “I’m fine. I think I may need to sew him up though.” I lifted the shirt from Ash’s shoulder and showed my dad the wound.
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s deep. Let me grab the first aid.” He stood up and walked back over to the car, grabbing the first aid kit from underneath the passenger seat.
“Do you know how to stitch people up?” Ash asked warily, his face getting pale.
“Nope,” I said, taking the first aid kit from my dad. “But no better time than the present to learn.”
Ash winced but still had a smile on his face. “Well, if there’s anyone I’d trust to sew me up, it would be you.”
“Shut up, you,” I said, pulling him toward me so that his shoulder was rested on my lap. I found a needle and threat in the pack, and poured some water across his wound, cleaning it the best I could. “This is going to hurt.”
He took a deep breath, bracing himself as I sunk the needle into his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, tense.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, feeling tears spring in the corners of my eyes. “I don’t want it to hurt.”
He laughed shakily. “It doesn’t hurt in the slightest. Come on now.” He winced again as I continued my precarious needlework. “Hey, Z?”
“Hmm?” I asked, concentrating on my work. The smell of smoke filled my nose, and I knew that the others were burning the bodies. I breathed out, doing everything I could to keep the Spaghetti-Os I’d eaten the night before in my stomach.
“Thank you,” he said. I looked up from his shoulder, into his face, surprised. “For saving my life.”
I was shocked. Ash had never said thank you, not sincerely, in the nine years I had known him. “Sure,” I said, returning back to my work.
“You were like a warrior out there,” Ash said, his head turned away from his shoulder. He was trying to remain steady, but I could read the pain in his eyes and in the furrowing of his brow. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
I shrugged. “Lots of years of karate and kickboxing and self-defense classes. I guess they finally came into use.”
“Well, you were incredible,” he said, inhaling sharply as I pulled the thread tight.
“She was beautiful.”
We both looked up and saw Liam standing over us. My cheeks went red, and I bent over Ash’s shoulder, finishing up the stitching and tying it off. I studied it for a moment. It was not a pretty job but it was adequate. He would definitely have a scar but at least he wouldn’t bleed to death.
Ash frowned, sitting up slowly. He nodded gratefully at me. “She shouldn’t have to fight like that,” he shot at Liam, “beautiful or not.”
“Thanks, Ash. Real smooth,” I said, holding my hands covered in blood out in front of me and wrinkling my nose. I grabbed the water I’d used on his wounds and poured it over my hands.
“That’s not what I meant, Z,” he said, exasperated. “I’m just saying…”
I wiped my hands on my bloody, and now completely useless, shirt. “We’re fighting for our lives and you still can’t remember to call me by my actual name.”
Ash started to retort but Liam cut in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just came over to say goodbye.”