Page 72 of Uprising

I don’t stop, even as a wave of uneasiness passes through me. I need to make sure Noah is safe; I don’t have time to think about myself. Pushing down the pain, we race through the woods, Noah panting behind me.

* * *

By the timewe stopped running and reached a road through the woods, my head was feeling woozy and every bone in my body ached. By the time the next town comes into view, exhaustion weighs heavily over both of us. The sun slowly begins to rise, casting shadows across the road.

Setting my eyes on a mid-class house, we head over the sidewalk leading to the front door. Twisting the handle, I push it open, dust kicking up as we enter. The house was silent, but that didn’t mean nothing was here. My shoulder had stiffened up, trickles of blood soaked into my shirt.

“Stay here,” I order Noah. He nods his head. I can’t look at him because I know he’s breaking, and I can’t afford to comfort him when there’s still a possible threat. Blowing a painful breath, I move from room to room, making sure nothing and no one occupies the space. Once I’m satisfied, I make my way out of the bedroom into the hallway when my eyes cross. My breath comes in short, and my limbs feel light.

“Reed? Are you okay?” Noah asks, stepping forward.

“Yeah, I–I just need to si?—”

CHAPTER43

Noah

His knees buckle, a crushing sound as his body falls to the ground.

“Reed!” I yell, rushing over to him. Gripping his shirt, I try to hold him up, but it’s useless. Reed is much bigger than me, and my noodle arms can barely open a jar of peanut butter.

“I—fuck,” Reed grits out.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I rushed out. My hands run over him, confused about what's wrong with him. This can’t be exhaustion; it couldn’t be. I know we’re both tired, but Reed is strong.

“Help m—get me to the couch.” Reed pushes himself off the ground, hissing as he climbs to his feet. It’s not until I wrap my arm around his waist that I feel something warm and wet.

“Reed, wh—what is this?” I pull my hand back, oxygen leaving my lungs as I look down at his blood coating my skin.

“Just get me to the couch.”

Each step we take feels like an eternity before we make it to the couch. I try to ease him down, but Reed basically throws himself down. A sharp groan escapes from his mouth, only adding to my worry.

“Reed, I–I, what do I do? You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding?” It’s like my brain can’t comprehend what’s happening.

“Just, shit, help me lift my shirt up.”

“Shouldn’t you—we should take your shirt off?—”

“No,” Reed snaps.

Tears burn in my eyes as I kneel to the floor, my brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if—you should take your shirt off.”

Reed's gaze meets mine; his eyes darken in annoyance. He’s clearly set on not taking his shirt off, and while I want to question him, I don’t. Taking a deep breath, I blow it out before leaning forward and pinching the bottom of his dark gray shirt.

He leans back, allowing me access to pull his shirt up to his chest. My eyes focus on the wound on his side.

“Uh…”

“Just tell me; I’m barely hanging on here, love.”

“It—it looks like a divot.” I nearly gag at the sight. A chunk of him is missing, and it’s bleeding profusely. I’m not even sure how he made it this far.

“Alright, go to the bathroom, find any medical supplies you can. Towels, gauze, anything.” He orders. Nodding my head, I climb to my feet. “Kitchen, grab any alcohol, liquor.”

I turn around, tripping over my feet as I rush from the living room into the hallway. Opening doors, I find the bathroom and tear open the cabinets. Luck must be on my side when I find a medical kit.

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