Ditching the Demons

Why Good Deeds Should Be Carefully Dealt

Why Good Deeds Should Be Carefully Dealt

Doing a quick search of the dining car, Myra was lucky enough to find a rather large first-aid kit under a counter. She picked it up and marched over to where Sam lay. "Fortunately for you, I know how to use everything in here," she said, slamming the kit down by his head. "However..." she rolled up her sleeves, "...unfortunately for you..." she opened the box and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, "...I haven't had much practice." And saying this, she pulled on the gloves and snapped them against her skin.

Sam, whose eyes had snapped open at the snapping sound of Myra's aforementioned glove snapping, looked up at her with an odd mixture of apprehension and disdain squeezing through the pained expression on his face.

"Don't you (cough, cough) dare touch me, w—(cough) wench," he said weakly.

"Sorry, Your Royal Crankiness, as satisfying as it is seeing you writhing in pain before me, I'm afraid I don't have the heart to sit here and watch you bleed to death. Expecting him to respond with some sort of snide remark, Myra waited for his reply. When none came, she looked down at him.

"Punk!" she yelled at him while kicking the bench beneath his head. Apparently he had already passed out.

⌘⌘⌘

The train gently swayed back and forth as it rolled along the mountain tracks. Outside, the rain beat heavily upon the glass windows. Inside, Myra was attempting to clean off and dress another one of Sam's wounds while he vainly tried to shove her away.

He had woken up several times during her ministrations, only to fall unconscious again after over exerting himself while trying to get her to stop. The most notable occurrence so far, was when she had just pulled down his pants in an attempt to get to a particularly nasty injury that reached from his lower abdomen to his hip. Most girls would probably be quite embarrassed having to deal with such a scenario. But Myra was not in the least bit troubled. She was too preoccupied in trying to discern whether the gash was deep enough to need stitches, or if it would heal quickly on its own as several of the smaller cuts already had.

Sam however, had obviously considered the situation slightly more than a BIG deal. For upon accessing the circumstances, he proceeded to (quite literally) attempt to bite Myra's head off. But, being in such a decrepit state, Sam's movements were easily detectable and she was able to avoid his angry lunge at her. This caused him to lose his balance, fall off the bench, and pass out again. It took ten minutes to get him back up there. Dead-weight is heavy.

Luckily for Myra, that particular problem never repeated itself. Sam did however, wake-up several more times and attempted to shove her away from himself. But each time, his actions became more labored and weak. Until eventually he was unable to even rouse himself from unconsciousness.

After completing the bandaging of his wounds, pulling his pants back up, and shoving some sort of liquid medicine down his throat (Hey, it couldn't hurt, right?) She sat down by his side, exhausted. She had worked for what felt like hours; had used practically everything in the first-aid kit, and completely expended her entire (limited) knowledge of medical procedures. Yet it still didn't seem to be enough. His breathing was unsteady, and his face showed that he was obviously in pain. So, she did the only thing she could think of, she held his hand, and prayed for Dru and Meris to return soon.

And so it was that when a soaking wet Meris and Dru entered the train car, with their hair plastered to their faces from the heavy rain, and their clothes dripping large droplets of water all over the wooden floor, that they found Sam and Myra. Myra, who had fallen asleep by this time, was still grasping Sam's hand, and Sam whose breathing still seemed a bit strained, appeared to be resting somewhat comfortably.