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Serial - My Wasteland Angel Part 2
🕑 Added 2018-05-09 20:38:57 +0000 UTC I surface in howling agony, or it would have been howling had I the voice to scream.My eyes snap open just in time to watch the human woman spring away from me. She is crouched and coiled to move swiftly again if needed. She had a knife in her hand, not a combat knife but one for slicing food. She held it out in front of her menacingly, but she looked more ready to run than to fight.
My right arm was burning with an all consuming pain. I try to reach for it but I find my left arm was bound, tied tightly by loops of thick extension cord affixed to the exposed axle of the wrecked vehicle I was lying beside. The cord creaks and tightens as I pull, but it holds firm. It doesn't take me long to realize my left leg was also tied. My right limbs lie injured and useless.
I look down through the haze of pain to see a makeshift bandage wrapped from my fingers to halfway up my arm. At this point the bandages switch from rags to clean, fresh, white gauze. The perfect lily white standing out against the angry red of my burned skin. The red flesh was glossy, something had been applied to it. An ointment or lotion. It was the application of this last arm wrapping that had hurt so bad as to rouse me. Though I still feel crippling pain in my leg, side, mouth and throat as well.
My eyes are wide and confused, my mind addled by pain. Hoarse little gasps choke out of me. I try to talk, to scream, to yell...anything. Nothing but harsh croaking sounds come forth. My throat stings as if barbed wire had just run been through it. I bend and heave as the agony wracks me to my core.
With a monumental act of will I force myself to relax. I focus on controlling my breathing. Each breath was another new pain, but nothing like the burns up the side of my body. I close my eyes and focus...control...breathe...breathe...breathe...
I open them once more. Looking down I now see the clothes had been cut from my body. Everything but my well worn underwear. It is a petty thing considering how close to death I'd been, but I am relieved to see that I am not injured “down there”. My leg was already bandaged and splinted around my throbbing ankle. Two large white patches are also attached to the right side of my torso. A pile of bloody cloths lay heaped at my feet along with my shredded and burnt clothes. Beside these, I am stunned to see, was an honest to goodness medical kit. It sat open, I could see it was still stocked with drugs and gauze and shiny implements and such. A kit like that would be worth a fortune in trade at the trash towns! An easy barter for a couple guns and a few boxes of ammo at the very least.
It is then I remember...I shouldn't even be alive right now. The last thing I remember was the woman standing over me with a weapon raised above her head to bring down onto me to finish me off. The image of her furious yet beautiful visage looking down at me still crystal clear in my mind's eye.
Forcing myself to focus through the pain I look over to her. Seeing that I was indeed bound and helpless I watch as she relaxes. She stands up straight, though she keeps the knife in her hand and at the ready.
She says in a blunt matter of fact way. “Try anything and I will leave you to die. Understand?”
The confusion is now almost as intense as the pain. Why was I still alive? Not only had this woman not killed me, she had quite obviously saved my life. I slowly nod as I study her.
“Good.” She nods. “Can't talk, can you?”
I shake my head no.
“Good.” She says again. “I don't want to hear you...Orc.” She spits that last word. Her eyes narrow as she looks over my large form. “What did your brother out there call me? Filth. It was Filth wasn't it? That's your name now. Filth. As in scum, shit, trash. You mutant piece of garbage.”
I was more confused than ever.
She cautiously steps back toward me and kneels down at my side. I gaze up. Her skin tone was somewhere between a dark beige and a light brown. This combined with her jet black hair indicated she was likely from a Latino heritage, not that many people kept track of such things anymore. Now all that truly mattered was whether you were human or mutant. The smoothness of her face betrayed the fact she had not been in the wastes for very long. The lack of creasing or weathering or rad burns or scarring telling me she'd lead an easier life than this harsh environment could possibly provide. Seeing her up close I realize how small she is. Just barely over five feet tall if I had to guess, and thin too. She looked so fragile. It was fortunate Blitz didn't break her with his rough treatment. Her large brown eyes look almost black here in the dim interior...wait, interior?
I look around me. I was in a shelter of some sort, not out in the open as I had been. It takes me a while but I realize I still lay where I had fallen. I hadn't been taken to a shelter, the shelter had been built around me. I guess it made sense, the slight human woman probably didn't have the strength to move me even if she wanted to. More of the green tarpaulin had been gathered and then erected using the materials at hand. The sides were tied off along the trash to my left and held to the ground with rocks and heavy junk to my right. Long dead branches held up the middle giving the place the look of an old fashioned camping tent. There was enough room for the petite woman to stand and walk around in. It was a rough job to be sure but it would keep me out of the elements. Sunlight came in through the tarp, the green of the thin plastic walls giving the whole area a sickly glow.
I look back toward her, she was getting ready to continue wrapping my arm. “Don't look at me Filth!” She snaps. “I can't stand the sight of your ugly Orc face.”
I continue to look at her, both fascinated and perplexed by her. Snatching up her knife she suddenly holds it to my throat. Her eyes widen. “You better listen to me Filth. I can still kill you.” She says menacingly. I keep my gaze locked on hers.
'No, you can't.' I realize. I have been in life and death close combat more times than I can count. I have learned to recognize the eyes of a killer. She did not have them. In the immediate aftermath of Blitz's violation, yes, of course she could have. Anyone could kill then. But now...no way. I could see she was way over her head yet trying to bluff her way through. Making it up as she went. I get the distinct impression she just was as confused by all this as I was. I am even more fascinated by her now.
I slowly nod and turn my head away from her and stare at the back wall of wreckage.
She takes the knife away. Her slender hands return to my wounded and burnt arm. I grit my teeth and clench my good fist hard, enduring through the pain as she worked to finish the job of patching me up.
As I let out a throaty grunt of pain she says. “Shut up Filth!” Despite her sharp words I feel her hands ease up and loosen the wrapping. She finishes up and secures everything. “Now that you're awake I can get under you. Roll to your side.”
I feel her hands slide in under my arm and back and lift up. Gingerly I roll toward my good side, I probably couldn't have done it without her aid. She keeps my injured arm from moving too much in the motion. Once I am over to my side I hear her start clearing the ground under me of the splintered wood chunks and rocks that were there. I feel it as she cleans off my back and butt. Brushing jagged pebbles away and then pulling out splinters. Her small hands are soft and gentle. Carefully she helps me back down again. I lay on my back and let out a sigh. The pain in my throat and side had been so bad that I hadn't realized how uncomfortable my back was. This was so much better. I am able to truly relax.
The woman stands up and dusts off her hands before commencing to clean up. Gathering the bloody rags, putting away the med kit, and such. I watch her work though she ignores me completely. She still wore the denim overalls and plaid shirt. The shirt was now held together with an old pin as Blitz had torn the buttons from it when he stripped her.
I lay mesmerized by her. She was an enigma. None of this made sense. I just couldn't square it with what I knew. This isn't how the world works. This isn't how people work. I had nothing to offer her, she had nothing to get from me. I was nothing but a liability for her in my condition, and had I been healthy I would have been a threat to her. I would have taken her salvage as easily as Blitz had. She called me garbage and had named me Filth but had used a king's ransom in medical supplies on my injured body. My fellow Orc and gang member had raped her and then she immediately worked to save my life. She just didn't make any sense. What was her play here?
She puts all of the bloody rags into a broken but functional bucket and holds it to her. She states, more to herself than me. “These will attract the rats. I'll bury them.” She ducks and leaves the tent through a flap she'd left loose. She knew about the gore rats, that was good. She had also done a pretty good job with the hastily built shelter. The med kit showed she was a pretty good scrounger. She obviously wasn't completely new to the Wastes. But there was no way she'd been out here for very long either.
I had so many questions and so much to think about...but now the pain demanded my attention once more. It was encroaching into my thoughts. Closing my eyes I steady my breath and do my best to keep the pain at bay.
Breathe...breathe...breathe..
