aliens are stupid • ben parish

03

My initial thought is, I'm dead.

But then I think, I can't be dead if I've still got thoughts can I?

See the vital word in that sentence is think. A dead person can't think. But then, who knows if a dead person can or can't think? No ones ever tried asking a rotting corpse on its thoughts and opinions of the political state of America.

I'll add it to my to do list.

Opening my eyes is a huge effort, the dried blood from my head wound is caked everywhere, my eyelashes are practically glued together. But when I do open my eyes, I notice I'm at an awkward angle so I go to turn myself around and the pain in my leg comes back.

Oh it comes back, about ten times worse than before. It's agony and I'm in serious danger of crying out. I stop myself by clenching my teeth. The Silencers might still be around, they can't have got far in this time.

But what time? How long have I been out?

I take a guess and say I've been out for at least a day, I've wasted a hell of a lot of time.

I need to get to Wright-Patterson, it's my only hope of ever surviving this whole apocalypse situation. But first I need to fix up my leg.

I shuffle backwards to lean on a tree and when I get there I'm drenched in sweat and my head wound has started to drip blood again. I need to address that first so I can actually see.

First, I slide my backpack off my shoulder and tip it upside down, not caring where the rest of my belongings go because I need to find the first aid kit.

My eyes settle on the green bag with a white cross on it and I seize it with both hands as if it's a life support machine and I'm critically ill.

Haha, how ironic!

I unzip it rather harshly and tip the contents out on the leafy forest floor. I have to shove around a little until I find the dressings and bandages. I also find some cotton balls and rubbing alcohol, I'll need to clean the wound considering this isn't the most, well, hygienic environment to be doing this.

I tip a little rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball and brace myself.

'Oh shit,' I hiss, taking a sharp intake of breath as I press the cotton ball onto my forehead. If comes away covered in dried, caked, dark red blood.

I continue to press gently until the cotton ball is too saturated it can't absorb anymore blood. I take another one out of the pack and do the same. In the end I use up half the pack in an attempt to make it look like I haven't risen from the dead.

I gingerly touch my hand to my head to see if there's any blood left, there isn't. Apart from the stuff that's caked to my hair but I can't do anything about that. I mean the whole of me is in need of a desperate wash and hopefully when I get to Wright-Patterson I'll have one for the first time in 3 weeks.

I carefully unwrap a dressing and press it onto my forehead wound which turned out to be only a couple centimetres wide but head wounds bleed a lot so that's why there was enough blood to feed the world's entire population of vampires for 4 years.

When I'm done tying the bandage round at the back of my head I glance down at my thigh, my what were green trousers are now crimson.

I'll have to take them off to even be able to see the wound.

I wriggle slowly and painfully out of them and grab a new pair from my pile of clothes that is strewn haphazardly on the forest floor.

I clench my teeth as I pour what's left of my water bottle over my thigh in an attempt to clean the bullet wound a little before I put the alcohol on it.

It's going to get infected if I don't get proper medical attention soon. The amount of dirt in this forest is unbelievable and if any of that gets into my bloodstream that could cause serious problems.

I apply a large dressing and then tie a bandage relatively tightly round it to stop anymore blood seeping into my new trousers.

Once I'm fully dressed again, it's getting colder and I don't have the time or energy to make a shelter so I grab a thick jumper, my bobble hat and sleeping bag from the ground where I had left them.

Before I slide into my sleeping bag I go about tiding up my belongings, I repack the first aid kit and stuff that into my bag. On top of it I stuff the rest of my belongings that I tipped everywhere in my panic to fix my wounds.

When I'm done, I lie awake listening to the sounds of the forest. Listening out for danger. My eyelids start to droop and I eventually give in and close my eyes for a minute but a minute turns into an hour, an hour into multiple.

Even as I sleep I listen. It's not safe here. But it's not safe anywhere.

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THANK YOU FOR ALMOST 300 READS!!

I hope you liked!!!

The guy that likes me, is still bloody obsessed and it's so strange!!

I gotta go because I have biology and physics revision to do :(

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Lots of love,
- Jasmine
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