The Unseen Wound
The cafeteria doors sighed shut behind me, the sound a soft echo in the oppressive silence. The stench of stale food and fear was thick in the air. I had carried Thomas for what felt like miles, his dead weight on my shoulder an unyielding, bitter burden. My all-American physique was pushed to its limits, but my physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the shock. The sheer, incomprehensible insanity of what I had just witnessed left me reeling.
I stumbled toward a set of tables, gently laying Thomas on the floor. His head was a mess of scrapes and bruises, his breathing shallow. I knelt over him, my mind racing. I needed to find a safe place, somewhere to treat his wounds. My gaze darted around the cavernous room, searching for a sign, an exit, a way to the nurse's office.
That's when I noticed them. About ten people were huddled in the corner. There were three children, no older than twelve or thirteen, their eyes wide with terror. Four women, three mothers and a younger one who looked about twenty-five. And three men: two older, in their forties, and one about thirty-two. They were all staring at me, a mixture of fear and suspicion in their eyes. My torn clothes and the blood on my hands—both my own and Thomas's—must have made me look like a monster.
"Are you human?" the oldest man asked, his voice shaking.
My composure, already frayed, snapped. The audacity of the question. After what I had just gone through, what my brother had just done… it was an insult. I stood up, my gaze fierce. "Of course we are! If we weren't, I would have killed you all already. Now help my brother!"
My words silenced them. They looked shocked, and the older man, the one who had spoken, stepped forward. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "My name is Ben, and these folks are my family." He started to introduce the others, but I cut him off. My patience was gone. There was no time for pleasantries.
"We don't have time," I said, my voice sharp. "Just tell me. Where is the nurse's office?"
Ben paused, a flicker of genuine pity crossing his face. "We can't. The demons… they've taken over this whole wing. To get to the nurse's office is suicide."
A cold wave of dread washed over me. I knew the situation was dire, but this… this was an impossibility. I felt the fury rising again. The world had gone mad, but my brother, my only remaining family, was fading. "Damn it!" I hissed, the frustration boiling over.
"My brother is a doctor,"
Ben offered, his voice low and calm, trying to soothe me. "Maybe he can help."
Relief, sharp and sudden, flooded me. "Yes, of course, please," I said, the words a desperate plea.
The second older man, Mark, stepped forward. He looked at me for a moment before his gaze fell to Thomas. Mark knelt down, his fingers gently probing Thomas's head. His expression hardened. "He took several blows to the head," he said, his voice grave. "He has a concussion. It's pretty bad."
I watched him, my heart pounding in my chest. "When will he be better?" I demanded, my voice raw with a fear I had never felt before.
Mark stood up, shaking his head slowly. "His condition looks real dire. He might fall into a coma."
The words hit me like a physical blow. The impossible hero, the one who had finally done what I, could not, was just... gone. "No!" I yelled, grabbing Thomas's body and shaking him. "No, we can't afford that! Wake up!"
Ben put a hand on my shoulder. "Edwin, please," he said. "The demons might hear you."
His calm voice was a cold splash of water. I forced myself to take a breath, my body trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. I had to compose myself. I had to think. "How long?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "How long will he be in a coma?"
Mark's reply was a simple, brutal truth. "It could be forever."