Life After Death

17 } Unsheathed

He leads me in a direction no one is headed - further out into the stark cold and lonely part of this city. Slowly, as we rush through, people start to skim out, the gunshots become a muffled sort of sound, and there are no fires or torches or any forms of light to signify other's presences. 

It also means we're in the dark. And the sun is setting. So that is not ideal. 

"Why isn't anybody here?" I ask cautiously. Because that can only mean one thing.

"Unguarded territories. Possibilities of zombies." He lists quickly. 

Of course. Perfect. 

But...I'll take them over EVA. For now. So long as they're just the regular ones and not widows or whatever other toxic adaptation has evolved over the past year. 

I follow him keeping a good distance between us to what looks like an abandoned parking lot four stories tall. I'm guessing we'll be staying on the second floor in case we need to make a quick escape or want to sleep peacefully. I'm not sleeping tonight though. Because I don't trust him and I don't even know if I'd be able after all this shit. 

"Second floor." He mutters, quieter than usual. I hum in acknowledgement and stay behind to keep an eye on him in case he tries anything. This is the same guy who has a cage filled with zombies after all, I don't care if he saved me from EVA - he definitely didn't from the undead. 

We climb the open stairs and get to a point high enough in the building where there are visible fires out in the distance indicating people in The Slums. I wonder if EVA is going through each and every alleyway to search for us. I assume it was Helmet they intended to shoot. And me by association. 

"You're taking me back first thing tomorrow morning." I say when he stops at a certain clean part of the concrete floor and just...sits down.

"Sure. Sit." He leans his head back against a pillar directly behind him.

I'd object but I really have no reason to and my legs do hurt, so with a little attitude, I sit down across from him, a good distance away, and bring my knees to my chest.

We sit in silence for a moment. He seems to be resting, maybe thinking, catching his breath. He still has his helmet on so I can't really gather an accurate reaction from him right now. I turn my cheek against my knees and look out of the building towards the lit fires again. They're sort of disturbingly beautiful. A fucked up city in cold, blue silence with fragments of orange and warmth scattered throughout.

"I'm going to ask you a favour now." Helmet breaks the silence.

I scoff. He's the one who supposedly owes me after I went through the arena. 

"I got shot." He adds.

My head snaps to his so quickly I think if I were any years older I would have given myself an aneurism. I scan his body, and funnily enough, see blood leaking through his shoulder where there's a darker patch of red at the centre of the wound. 

"What?!" I untuck my legs immediately and stare at the wound. How did I not realise? It's that why he hasn't been as snarky or moody? He's busy bleeding out? It doesn't look that bad...I mean it's definitely bleeding...but bullet wounds could be worse right? Right?

"Yeah, before we ran. It's no big deal - I just need-"

"No big deal?" I interrupt, gaping at him. 

He sighs and lifts his gloved hands to his helmet, and I realise quickly he's taking the damn thing off. I brace myself, holding my breath against my will at how casually he's done it. He tucks his leathered fingers underneath it and pushes up, lifting the thing off of his head and then running a hand through his dark brown practically black hair.