The Helicopter Part 2

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And then he froze

Mouth still halfway closed around your now bleeding neck and heavy arms still forcing you down.

Almost confused acting, he unsurely let go of your neck. The wet noise of him licking his maw was quiet as he tensed and untensed his claws.

You took in a shuddering breath. Why did he let go.

Hunters never let go.

You've seen countless times how, even when being shot at, they will refuse to stop tearing at their foes.

They're just that hard set on killing.

But now, with him pining you to the ground, and acting so suddenly unsure of his actions, you weren't sure what to think.

He shifted his hips and sat up just a little straighter. A few droplets of blood fell from his chin and hit your back. He kept straddling you though, sitting there in his uncertainty and listening to your occasional sniffle.

Maybe you can negotiate with him in the only way you seem to know how.

Turning your head in his direction the best you could, you snapped your teeth together, audible click hopefully reaching his ears.

He tensed up again, hands clamming together tighter around your forearms, to the point that you had to wince, before he let up on the strength, pushing his nose one last time into the bite on your arm with a heavy sniff, before finally releasing, and backing off of you.

The moment his weight left, you scrambled in a desperate flurry, scratching the pavement to help raise yourself into a standing position.

Just as frantically, you backed away, hitting the alley wall and holding the pulsating and bloody bite.

As fast as you rose and scrabbled backwards, he had risen faster, placing much slower and calmer footsteps toward you.

An epitome of terrifying he was. Tall figure towering you, clawed hands wide spread with anticipation, heavy chest taking deep breaths, and blood smeared and dripping all of his maw and nose.

Your blood.

From your wound.

Which he caused.

Closer and closer he drew, until the tip of you nose just brushed below his chest. He wasn't this tall before the apocalypse. Taller then most, yes, but not to the point that he made people feel smaller then a timid mouse.

Squinting your eyes in exhaustion, you kept yourself against the wall, acknowledging that he didn't try to cage you with his arms. Simply observing you, at a very close proximity.

The encounter felt like an hour, but in reality only a few minutes had pasted, and the horde that had been so distracted by the other survivors, had begun to come around, screaming and running finally ending up down the path you had taken.

With a jolt, you had made a movement to run, but a hand grabbed you by the injured arm, and you let out a scalding wince.

You needed to get to safety, clearly, yet your hunter could never get a clue, as his hand tightened around your forearm again. He swung a hefty arm at the infected that came close to make it stumble while he kept his intense stare on you.

By the third time the infected tried attacking you, he clung tighter to you and outright gouged his claws into the opposing infected's head, turning back to you as quickly as he had dealt with it.

Looking back at him, you tugged him forward the best you could, "Come ooon- we need to go." With your free arm you pointed down the street making him glance at the alley before back to you, "And, Let. Go."

You put your hand around his arm, tugging at it to try to force him off.

His lips dropped into a tighter frown, watching as blood from your bite continued to drip out and onto his claws.

He had finally begun to let go, when several more infected ran over, followed by even more.

Still a nuisance to him, but not a big problem.

But then, more and more came running out, and before you knew it, the rumbling of that tank followed after. Your hunter finally deemed the situation unsafe when the muscled beast flung its self around the corner, squashing several infected to be the first in line.

A look to you, a look to the chain, and a look behind him, and he wrapped his bicep around your abdomen and crouched. It squished your guts to be forced to crouch with him, but did you care?

No.

You were getting out of a very dangerous situation, you could deal with this.

Unlike your lithe companion though, being that high in the air didn't make you look elegant. It had a goat effect on you- whole body freezing up with a death grip on the arm around your stomach. Faintly you noticed the horde trampling where you used to be.

Landing was just as ungraceful as jumping was. With only one arm to try to land on and the fact that he prefers to land on all fours, the moment he touched the ground, you jerked forward, hitting your head against the hard roof concrete and letting out a pained yell.

"Ah- Fuck" your one uninjured arm clutched the spot that was hit as he let you drop down fully onto the ground.

The hunter hovered over you for a split second, before backing off- clearly remembering that time he bit you- and giving you space.

And there your ragtag group of two sat. One bruised, scratched up, bitten, clunked around, and overall just a mess of hurt and emotional trauma. And the other, was as picture perfect as before, calm, silent, and dribbled with a bloody mouth.

You sat there. In your own ache and aftermath adrenaline. Sore muscles shaking. Rib cage still feeling the weight of the hunter atop you. The bitten arm burning and barely working to move.

You needed to try to treat it.

Sucking in some more fresh air and still having the lingering feeling of half emptiness inside, you finally sat up.

It took even longer for you to look at your hunter. A base fear of being bitten again faintly rushed through your neck and to your bite wound.

Huffing you motioned him over, clenched your teeth as he came closer.

Once within reaching distance, you turned him around and began to search through his bag.

Food, food, food, matches, tarp...

Health pack.

Bingo.

Immediately after zipping the backpack back up, you shooed him, digging into the health pack and shakily beginning to unload the items onto the cleanest area on the ground. The bite mark burned the more you thought about it.

Picking up the gauze, you cut a piece and began applying pressure to the wound.

The hunter watched in compliant silence, noting your urgency yet doing nothing to assist.

The bleeding had to stop eventually.

Oh god.

You hoped it would stop.

It had too.

It was agonizing waiting for the inevitable pause or continuation of the bleeding.

Two, maybe five minutes of putting pressure onto the throbbing bite, and you felt as though it was beginning to slow.

Peeling off the gauze, and peering at the bloody mess that was part of your arm, you deemed it well enough to begin treating.

You glanced back at the items. Not bothering with the latex gloves, you tossed them to the side and instead focused on the saline. Funky salty stuff, but necessarily to help.

You dumped it onto the bite without a second thought, watching the blood and water mix.

Preferably, you would be running your arm under a faucet, but this was the best you could do.

Once empty, you took out the gauze again, firmly wrapping it the best you could with only one arm to use.

All the other pains in your body were bad, but not as bad as the bite, or say, the possible concussion you now have from the landing.

Oh well.

Nothing you could fix now.

You settled on intensely staring at the hunter, frown on your face and distance between you evident.

He went to take a step forward, but you immediately snapped your jaw at him, watching as he acknowledged your warning before settling back onto his haunches with a snap of his own.

If he thought you'd let him anywhere near you after what happened, he thought wrong.

All you wanted to do was rest, sleep, or anything even remotely considered as relaxing. But as far as you were concerned, you could only sit atop this roof- bloody and tired- with patience.

Sleeping with a concussion was unwise, even if you wanted to.

So, slumping where you sat, head pounding as you tilted it upwards, you waited.

Waited and waited, shifting your legs and rubbing your knuckles with closed eyes.

Once your head stopped, you'd let yourself sleep.

The wind chilled you where you sat, night cold and eery with the infected screams below you, yet that did nothing to make you less tired.

As patiently or unpatiently as was possible, and waited for as long as you could.

Honestly, you really did try.

But eventually, the banging in your head, and the exhaustion in your bones was simply too much.

Sliding off to your side, with your breaths evening out into a slow pace, the faintest feeling of warm enclosed around you.

Arms.

That you didn't rightly care to bother with as you slumbered.

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