Hatchetfield Stories

Emma, I'm Sorry, We Lost

I found this really cool prompt list that I'm going to use :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Death
-Blood
-Injury
-Needles

Prompt: "Breathe, damn it!"

-------

"I'm not leaving without Paul," Emma said, looking at the soldiers that found her bleeding on the beach.

"Ma'am, you've lost a lot of blood. You have to come with us."

"Paul is human! He deserves to be saved as much as I do!"

The soldiers looked at each other. "Fine," one of them said, "Where is Paul?"

"He's at the Starlight Theater. He's-"

"Oh no," the soldier interrupted. "We can't go to the source of this whole thing without the permission of our general."

"Well, guess what? General McNamara is dead! Take me to Paul."

"She's right. The general can't give us permission," another soldier said.

The soldier looked at Emma for a few seconds. "Fine. Let's get you into a helicopter and then we can look for Paul."

"Oh, no, I'm coming," Emma said.

"I'm not taking a civilian into the Starlight Theater!"

Emma sighed. "It's much safer if I'm with you. I know what Paul looks like. If someone else pretends to be him he might be able to trick you. You wouldn't want an alien to sneak into your base, would you?"

The soldier rolled his eyes. "Fine." He looked at the two other soldiers. "Grab the stretcher from the helicopter. Looks like we're taking a civilian with us into a high-risk area. We'll do everything to protect her."

The soldiers nodded and walked to their helicopter.

"We'll find Paul and take you to the hospital. You know the risk: if it takes too long you might not make it."

Emma nodded. "I know."

She cried out as the two soldiers lifted her onto the stretcher. They started moving towards the theater.

Explosions sounded all around them. The one soldier that wasn't carrying the stretcher walked in front of them, his gun ready in case someone attacked them.

They arrived at the Starlight not much later. Emma could tell that the soldiers didn't like taking her with them, but she didn't care. She wanted to save Paul.

When they entered the building, Emma looked around. The roof had come down and where the small restaurant used to be, a huge chandelier had fallen down, the glass shards spread through the entire hall. And in the middle of the hall, a man lied on the floor. His suit was covered in blue and red stains and his legs looked like they were bent the wrong way, but Emma would recognize him anywhere.

"Paul!" she screamed.

The soldiers put the stretcher down and ran towards Paul, but Emma didn't want to wait. She crawled towards Paul, biting her lip to prevent herself from screaming at the stabbing pain in her leg. She dragged her leg behind her, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. The glass dug into her hands and legs, but she didn't care. All she cared about was Paul.

The soldiers stepped aside to let her get to him, though one of them made a comment about how it could be dangerous. She didn't listen.

"Paul..." she said, taking his hand in hers. His eyes shot open, and his grip on her hand tightened, he was holding onto her like a lifeline.

"Emma..." he said, his breathing labored and uneven. "I'm sorry... We lost."

His eyes closed and his hand was now lying limply in Emma's.

"No! Paul! They'll save us! We'll be fine!" She watched as his head fell sideways and he took his last breath. "No!" She grabbed his shoulders and shook his body. When that didn't work, she slapped his face. Her own blood stained her hands, he hadn't even bothered to wipe it away. "Breathe, damn it!"

One of the soldiers put a hand on her shoulder. "We have to go."

"No!" Emma shouted, pushing his hand away and hugging Paul's lifeless body.

The soldiers tried to pry her away from him, but she was fighting to stay, screaming at the pain in her leg.

They said something to each other and a few seconds later, Emma felt a pick in her neck. She screamed, still hugging Paul's body as her vision blurred. The last thing she noticed was one of the soldiers pulling her away and lifting her into his arms.

*** *** ***

When Emma woke up, she refused to talk to anyone: the soldiers, the doctors, she didn't even thank the friendly nurse when she brought her some soup.

She didn't know what was worse: the pain in her leg or the loneliness that came with being the only survivor of the fucking apocalypse.

She wished Paul was here. He would make awkward jokes and talk to her, she wouldn't have to be bored because she wasn't allowed to leave this hospital bed for a few weeks. He would keep her company.

His last words kept echoing through her mind. 'Emma, I'm sorry, we lost.'

They lost.

They lost each other.