“Shit.” He muttered as he tried to shove the notebook back in his pocket unsuccessfully the first two times. He finally stowed it away.
“We don’t have any first aid stuff.” Moira looked around. Jeremy was not sure what she was looking for. He stripped off his shirt and looked at the bloodied claw marks sliced through the fabric. His mind felt like someone had poured syrup into it, gumming up all the gears until they ground to a stop.
“Here.” Moira took the shirt from his hands and balled it up slightly. She took off her backpack and rummaged around until she pulled out what looked like a spare shirt. She held out her hand. “Give me your knife.”
He handed it over. She sliced the shirt along one hem and handed the knife back. It was made of a slightly stretchy material, so it fit around his torso when she used it to secure his ruined shirt against his back as a makeshift bandage.
“Oof.” She stepped back and inspected her handiwork, “That’s terrible. Your apartment is close, right? I don’t know where the closest hospital is.”
Jeremy looked around, “The university hospital is closest, but it's past my apartment. I’ve got a first aid kit at home, so let’s just go for that. About a thirty-minute walk.”
But that was during regular times, not when they were both so exhausted they could barely stand, and goblins popped out of the shadows to injure them. Like this, it would probably take them over an hour. But they would never make it if they did not start moving in the first place. He limped over to the bag of scales, grimacing when putting weight on his leg sent a dull ache of pain through his hip.
They made quite a sight limping down the street. Jeremy slumped under the weight of his bag and the growing pain in his back. Moira stumbled along beside him, lagging from exhaustion like a buggy video game character. They both tried to support each other, but neither was in any state to support another person. It would be a miracle if they made it to the apartment. If another goblin found them, it was all over.
The office building high rises gave way to neighborhoods of shorter apartment buildings and squashed together single-family homes. Cars lined the streets, and dogs barked behind chain-link fences. There were not as many shadowy alleys here, but there were many more places from which creatures could jump out at them. Jeremy’s eyes darted around to keep an eye on their surroundings as best as he could manage.
“Hey!”
They both froze and turned toward the voice. A man stood at the top of the steps to the porch of a single-family home. He was in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, and dressed in sweatpants and slippers. He waved at them. Jeremy tensed.
“What are you kids doing on the street?” He called, “Haven’t you watched the news? It’s dangerous to be out at night.”
“Don’t we know it?” Moira muttered under her breath.
“We’re making our way home,” Jeremy told the man. He shuffled Moira along the sidewalk.
“Is that blood?” The man hopped down his steps and crossed the walkway to his gate, “Do you need help?”
“No, we’re fine, sir,” Jeremy said.
At the same time, Moira perked up and said, “Actually, yes! We could use some help.”
“You both look dead on your feet.” The man unlatched his gate and swung it open with a squeak, “Do you need some first aid supplies? That doesn’t look patched up very well.”
He gave Jeremy’s back a pointed look as he held the gate open for them. Moira pulled Jeremy over. He had rules for this. Rules about not trusting strangers. After the debacle back at Moira’s house, he'd already created a new rule. He planned never to go to someone’s house if he had not known them for over a year. That was hopefully enough time to vet them and make sure they were not planning on sacrificing him to an old god they kept hidden under their pond. Moira dragged him through the gate. He used to have rules for this.
“We got attacked by a goblin,” Moira explained as she followed the man up the steps.
“Nasty sons ‘o bitches.” The man scowled, “They are giving our boys a hard time out in Illinois. It’s turning into outright trench warfare.”
He let them through the door. The house seemed perfectly normal. A few lamps cast warm light over a couch, in contrast to the bold blues splashing across the room from the television. Light spilled in from the kitchen. A dog came bounding over, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he brushed against their legs for pets.
“This is Ollie.” The man said, “He’s alright if you don’t mind a few licks. Come into the kitchen where the lighting is better. I’ll go grab my first aid kit.”
He smiled at them reassuringly before climbing up the set of stairs to the left of the entrance. It was a normal smile, one which reached his eyes and was not overly friendly. Moira toed her shoes off. Jeremy did not.
The kitchen seemed as normal as the living room. A few dishes waited in the sink to be washed. There was a bunch of browning bananas on the counter. Jeremy spotted a coffee pot. Ollie got his fill of pets and wandered back into the living room.
“I’m Abel, by the way.” The man returned with a plastic bin filled with Band-Aids, gauze pads, medical tape, and an assortment of medications and topical creams. “I’m no nurse, but my wife is, so I know a thing or two.”
“Moira and Jeremy.” Moira introduced them, “And thanks for the help.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The man waved her off as he sorted through the bin, “How long has it been since you were injured?”
“About forty minutes or so?” Moira’s voice lifted up in a question. She looked at Jeremy, “Not an hour yet?”
“I don’t think so.” He sat on one of the stools by the island and let the bag slump to the floor. Moira joined him.
“What were you wandering around at night for anyway?” Abel asked, “I’m assuming you are kids from the university?”
“No.” Moira shook her head, “He just lives that way, but my boyfriend is a student. We were out of the city yesterday and have been trying to make our way back home all day.”
Abel nodded in understanding, “Long day then. All the days are longer now, just like all the wild places are wider.”
He opened a pack of butterfly sutures and set them on the counter. He snapped on a pair of gloves, then unwrapped the makeshift bandage from Jeremy’s torso and began cleaning the wounds with alcohol. Jeremy clenched his fist against his thigh and hissed.
“Where is your wife?” He gritted out.
“At the hospital, of course.” Abel said, “It’s a madhouse, as you can imagine. They need everyone there.”
“I bet,” Moira murmured.
They lapsed into silence, with only the murmur of the television in the background. Abel meticulously patched up Jeremy’s back. Moira watched with sleepy eyes. They’d left the muggy summer night outside, and in the cool air conditioning and bright kitchen lighting, things felt a little more normal. Bloodied medical supplies aside. Even Jeremy felt his exhaustion taking over. By the time Abel was finished, he’d rested an elbow on the counter and leaned heavily on it.
“They’re working on whipping up some healing magic at the hospital,” Abel said as he swept all the wrappers and bloody alcohol wipes into a trash can. “At least one good thing should be able to come out of this mess, right? My wife says that a couple of people are getting really good at healing. I’d take you to the hospital, but they are so swamped that nobody is being seen except people with life-threatening conditions. My patch-up job will have to do.”
“Thank you,” Jeremy said. He stood up and tried to reach for the strap of his bag but swayed into the island instead. The edge of the counter slammed into his hip, and his vision momentarily whited out. He grunted in pain.
“Woah there.”
He realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut and opened them to see Moira and Abel watching him with concerned expressions and outstretched hands.
“I’m fine.” He said, “We should get going.”
“No, no!” Abel shook his head, “I’m not letting you kids run back out there like this. Why don’t you rest here for the night and head out in the morning? Go sit on the couch. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Jeremy frowned, “What are you doing awake in the middle of the night anyway?”
“I like to call and check on my wife every hour or so.” Abel said, “Plus, I can’t tear my eyes away from the news. It seems like every minute, something new happens.”
Moira made a sound and pulled her phone out of her pocket, “Do you mind if I charge my phone? It’s almost dead.”
“Go ahead, go ahead. There is an outlet by the armchair.”
Moira shuffled into the living room. Jeremy sighed and picked up the bag to follow her.
“Not so fast,” Abel said. Jeremy’s stomach flipped, but the man straightened up and looked Jeremy up and down, “We’re about the same size. I’d rather you didn’t get blood all over my couch. The wife, you know…I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”
He went into the living room, and Jeremy stubbornly followed him. There was no way he would let Moira out of his sight in a strange man’s home, no matter how kind and helpful he seemed. He did not sit on the couch, though.
When the man brought him a change of clothes, he was grateful to see they included a pair of jeans rather than sweatpants. He would be able to thread his belt through them and keep the knife secured to his waist. He faced the immediate dilemma of needing to change but not wanting to let Moira stay out here by herself. He also really had to take a piss, so he gave the knife to Moira before going into the bathroom.
When he returned, everything was fine. Moira handed back the knife and went to use the bathroom herself. Jeremy sat on the couch, twisting to sit against the armrest so that his back was not pressed against anything. He looked at the TV.
It was a different news station than the one they watched the story from earlier, but the background was the same. The gate pouring out goblins loomed over a battlefield. Before, it had not looked so war-like, but now there were literal earthen fortifications dug into the ground. Tanks sat in the spaces between the mounds. Goblins milled about on the other side of the line rather than being immediately gunned down as they had been before. The reporter, who was listing off something about the number of troops now amassed at the site, was much further from the gate than the last one had been.
“What happened to the air raid they were going to do on the gate?” Jeremy asked when Abel returned with a packet of pre-sliced cheese and a box of crackers. He set a few apples on the coffee table as well. Ollie clambered up from his dog bed and came over to sniff around, ignoring Abel when he tried to shoo him away.
“You haven’t watched the news in a little while, have you?” Abel sat in one of the armchairs and popped a piece of cheese into his mouth, “They hit ‘em with artillery, the air force, you name it, but it didn’t do a damn thing because some of the goblins coming through are now using magic.” He nodded at the TV, “They are putting up these force fields that prevent too much damage. And they are counterattacking with offensive spells. That’s why they put up those barricades. A few planes went down, and the air force pulled out while they are re-assessing.”
They returned to the newsroom on the screen, and the news anchors turned to a panel of experts sitting beside them. Across the bottom of the screen scrolled a list of all the counties listed for mandatory evacuation. One of the news anchors posed a question to the panel about the possibility of a nuclear strike.
“Wait,” Jeremy said, “Are they going to nuke the gate?”
“It’s all they have been talking about for the past hour.” Abel said, “Now, do you see why I can’t sleep?”
“Jesus.” Jeremy rubbed his eyes.
“They are evacuating the entire city of Chicago, along with all the surrounding counties and suburbs.”
“Is that…” Jeremy stared at the panel on the screen, “Can they even do that? Nuke our own soil?”
“That’s where all the debates and panels and whatnot come in.” Abel said, “There isn’t really a precedent for this. Although, I did see something funny online. Someone was saying that the government should pull out their super-secret alien invasion protocols.”
Jeremy gave him a wry grin, “They probably are. That’s probably why they are talking about nuking Chicago.”
“Who’s nuking Chicago?” Moira came around the back of the couch and flopped down with her feet in Jeremy’s lap.
“The president,” Abel said.
“Oh.” All three fell silent and stared at the screen. There was not much to say. The disbelief at the entire situation was already palpable in the air. Anything voiced would just be a reiteration of how much they did not know about what was happening, and everyone was too tired to keep repeating themselves.
“Hey,” Moira nudged Jeremy’s arm with her toes, “Didn’t you want to call your parents?”
“They’re probably asleep right now, anyway. I’ll call them in the morning.”
Jeremy fully intended to stay awake and keep an eye on things while Moira slept. They were close to his apartment, and he could nap when they got there the next day. But the soft blue lights and murmur of the TV lulled him. He listed to the side and fell asleep, a hand resting on one of Moira’s ankles and the other on the handle of his knife.