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"So it's not your blood on your stomach? Or–" she paused, thinking about the alternative.
The woman hummed. "Puncture wound.”
"Puncture–" Maddie stopped, her head jerking back. "Puncture wound?" she repeated. "Does that—wait, does that mean you werestabbed?"
This time, the only response was the soft thrum of her breathing.
"Hey," she said, urgency coming through her voice as she gently shook the woman's arm.
She groaned again, then cleared her throat. "I need—It's far enough to the side—" she cleared her throat again, as if each pronunciation was a task in itself. "I don't think it hit anything major. I need to put.."
She trailed off.
"Hey, are you okay?" Maddie asked after a moment.
"I’m just—dizzy," she mumbled back. "Need something to put pressure on the cut."
If they weren't in so much danger, Maddie would have actually laughed at the fact that she had reduced a stab wound down to something so insignificant.
"Do you have something I can use?" Maddie asked.
She didn't respond.
Maddie knew little about serious injuries, but she did know enough to realize that she probably had a concussion. And she thought for a second that maybe one of the things you were supposed to do when you had a concussion was stay awake, butshe wasn't sure. She also figured that getting a little sleep was much less dangerous than the stab wound leaking in her side.
Maddie turned and pulled her own backpack off onto the floor.
She unzipped the main pocket and reached her hand in, searching for some type of cloth that she could use. Her fingers skimmed over the barrage of items.
After a few seconds, she pulled out one of her only spare shirts.
She moved closer to the woman, reaching her hand out to feel for her forearm again.
"Okay,” she mumbled, wrapping the shirt into a ball. “This might hurt a little."
Her fingers moved lightly across the woman's torso, then stopped when she felt the wetness seeping through. With one swift motion, Maddie pressed the cloth into her.
The woman flinched beneath the pressure, releasing an anguished groan.
"Sorry—sorry," Maddie mumbled, but kept the cloth pushed tightly against her.
After a moment, the woman slumped again.
Maddie moved her backpack until it tilted against the wall. Then she reached up with her free hand and helped guide her head down onto it, so she had something to rest against.
Maddie waited a few seconds to make sure the woman wouldn't wake up again. Then she moved herself until she was sitting beside her and leaned against the wall, tilting her head back onto the cold smooth tile.
She wasn't sure how she would get out of the city, but she did know one thing.
It would be much easier if she had this woman's help. And she couldn't do that if she died.
She adjusted her hand on the compress, increasing the pressure.
No matter what, she had to keep her alive.
Chapter five
Dreams floated by one after the other: dreams of her father, dreams of the hospital, dreams of the outbreak. The same dreams that had visited her almost nightly for the past year. But then there were also new dreams: dreams of a girl, dreams of pain.