Bad timing [dialogue story]

Category: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship
Characters: C. Snippy/Sniper & A. Gromov/Engineer
Words: 2,352


Prologue

Caught in a hearty small-talk with a stranger, Snippy walks down the street alongside the female companion he met a few days ago. She'd been sharing her findings with him and proved to mean him no harm, so he decided to allow her to stick around with him while the rest of his crew wasn't around.

I tell you, in these post-apocalyptic times, you can never be sure. I'd say most of the people you meet will want to murder and rob you.

You can't trust anyone, especially not people who seem irrationally nice to you, people who seem irrationally mean to you, aliens, giant monster worms, strangers in general or that guy over there crouching behind that broken wall and looking like he has a rifle aimed at us- Ooooh fuck…

Snippy wraps his arms around the girl as the gun goes off, and pulls her down behind a car for cover.

Seconds later he sits up and leans against the car, clutching his left calf and groans.

Augh… that bastard... he shot me in the leg.

Don't worry... I'll be fine. Maybe not up for a sprint right now, but I'm good.

However, that gunner will be here soon, and then we really have a problem. I would shoot him, but all I have is this dull trowel Captain gave me.

Listen, you mustn't let him get you! Run, as long as you still can and don't look back!

~*~


Bad Timing

Bad luck? No, simply bad timing. A hostile gunner managed to land a hit on my leg, and it's not looking good for me.

After sending my protégée away, I stayed behind the car that should give me protection for a little longer. There is not much I can do to defend myself against the gunner who is coming dangerously close.

As fate will, I cannot fight, nor can I run in this state.

I guess this is it… this is where I die.
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Engie rushes to the sniper's side, slouches over and pants heavily.

I… I heard gunshots, and then moments later… someone ran by, so distressed that they nearly barreled right into me… What the hell is going on?

Upon lifting his head he notices the trail of blood drops leading to his teammate.

…Snippy?

Fearing the worst, Engie steps closer and peers over him, spotting the steadily bleeding wound on his leg.

Oh crap, you've been hit! What happened? Ugh… We've got to get a tourniquet on this, even if it's makeshift. Just stay with me—talk—while I find something.

The engineer removes his backpack and kneels down to rummage through it.
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Wow Gromov… you were one lucky bastard making it here without getting your head blown off.

Goddamn it… this hurts like hell.

Be careful about lifting your head too high, I'm quite sure that hostile gunner, the guy who did this to me, is still somewhere back there, unless…

Snippy hears a familiar roar.

Uhm… was that Photoshop that I just heard?

…

Okay if that monster worm is making its rounds back there, I'm sure he already ran away; if he didn't get eaten beforehand… In either case we should be safe.

…

While Engie is searching his backpack, Snippy takes a deep breath and slightly turns his leg to look at the ugly wound, moaning at the horrible pain it emits.

Hey, uh… Got anything for the pain…?

I don't… feel so good…
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Engie extracts a black shirt from his backpack.

Eureka.

Hmm…

It's my only other shirt, but whatever. As for the pain, um… Damn it, all the pain killers are in the first aid kit back at our base.

Oh wait…

Setting the shirt aside, the scientist continues to rummage through his belongings.

But yeah… That was Photoshop all right. I know that roar better than I'd like to… Considering what just went down here, though, for once it's actually a relief to hear it. I hope she catches that asshole and gnaws his bones clean. Another threat is the last thing we need.

Ah, here it is.

He holds up a plastic bottle.

I use this on lacerations I sustain while constructing those ridiculous contraptions for Captain. It's a topical anaesthetic and an antiseptic. Always does the trick. Unfortunately, it may not help as much in this case since the injury on your leg is far more severe than what it's intended for… It'll have to do, though. Hopefully it at least alleviates the pain enough for you to move, because we should definitely get out of here ASAP.

Okay, this might sting a bit…

Engie points the bottle at his comrade's ailment and sprays it several times with the agent.

Good. Judging by your flinching, it reached the wound. Now hold still while I wrap this up…

He stashes the bottle and twists the shirt around Snippy's leg, fastening it with a knot.

There. I'm not that kind of doctor, but this bandage looks pretty decent. How does it feel?
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Snippy gasps for air and twists from the intense pain shooting up from his leg.

Ugh… t-thanks-s f-for bandaging my leg…. I've lost quite a bit of blood, but I t-think I s-should be able to walk.

The sniper sighs and rests for a few seconds, trying to calm down his unstable breathing a bit, still trembling from agitation and shock.

Y-you are right… we s-should get away from h-here… It is-s not safe s-staying out here for t-too long.

Slowly he contracts his legs and proceeds to stand up, but as he is overwhelmed by sudden nausea he just manages to lean back onto the car to avoid toppling over, and gasps for air.

I-it is okay… I'm a-alright, just f-feeling a bit light headed. D-d-don't wo-rry…. I'll manage to… walk back to t-the base… on my own… See, I can stand, t-that means I'll be j-just fine.

Absently he sighs before his leg suddenly gives in and he sinks back down to the ground.

Ouch, goddamn it… sorry this is so embarrassing….

Can you give me a hand?
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Hey, don't worry about it. You've been through the wringer. Let's just get out of here.

Engie crouches, positions Snippy's left arm over his shoulders and grasps his right hand.

On "3."
1… 2… 3!

The engineer slowly but vehemently hoists his companion from the snow, careful not to cause any additional suffering.

Man, your breathing sounds terribly labored… Just walk to the best of your ability. Lean on me as much as you have to.

Let's go.

They begin to walk and Snippy lets out an increasingly strained groan with each step.

Uh… Listen. I know I'm generally not the most optimistic person, and for valid reasons… But you know what? I know we are going to make it back. That is irrefutable. Because—

Suddenly, Snippy drops to the ground, clutching his blood-stained leg.

Ahh, balls!

Engie attempts to help him up, but the sniper's trembling knees buckle and he slides back down.

I'm not going to leave you so you better get up, Charles!

He tries a second time, but to no avail; the pain is just too agonizing for Snippy to even stand.

Come on, hell if I'm carrying—
Oh screw it.

Stay like that…

Engie kneels with his back to Snippy, grabs his right arm and puts it over his shoulder.

I saw this in a movie once. Haven't done it before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything, isn't there?

Next he grabs his right leg and leans forward, placing it over his other shoulder.

Now I just get a firm grip of your wrist and…

With that, Engie uses every ounce of strength in his legs to stand up, bearing the weight of his injured teammate on his shoulders.

Ugh… Well, you definitely weigh more than my backpack, but I think I can manage. You still conscious? If so, keep an eye out for me, will ya?
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As Engie makes his way down the street with Snippy on his shoulders, his comrade eventually starts talking between labored breaths.

I feel terrible for… being disabled like this and… it sucks that you have to… carry me because I can't walk.

But you should know that…. I am very grateful for your help, so…

Thanks Gromov… I really owe you one… for this.

Engie gives him a pat on his good leg, and Snippy thinks he would have seen a smile on the engineer's face too, if it wasn't covered by a gas mask.

See that stop sign over there…? Just about 500 meters more and… we should be home.
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Nah, you don't owe me anything… Except for a shirt, ha.

Suddenly, a piercing screech spans the wasteland.

What… the hell was that?

Engie stops to scan their surroundings and spots a gray blob flailing about in the distance.

…

Oh no. No no no. Please don't be what I think it is.

The blob settles down and fixes its beady blue eyes in their direction.

Yep… It's Photoshop.

Great.

Okay, don't panic. Maybe she won't see us if we keep quiet and don't move.

The colossal worm slowly inches closer, but pauses and hacks profusely, like a cat with a hairball.

Huh, what's bugging her? Engie mumbles with a short laugh.

Photoshop then whips around, belting out a deafening shriek, and fiercely races right at them.

GAAAAAH!

Engie dashes off into the city, running as fast as he can without throwing his injured teammate from his shoulders.

Damn it all! Can this bloody day get any worse?!

Just then, he turns right and…

AUGH!

The unsuspecting engineer loses his footing and tumbles down into a ditch.

Sigh… I had to ask.
Oh crap, Snippy!

He staggers to his feet and looks around frantically but there is no sign of the sniper anywhere.

Snippy?!

A faint moan is heard from the drainage pipe and he rushes to investigate.

Phew… There you are. Quick, we need to—

Flinching at the ferocious roar that interrupts him, Engie turns to see Photoshop sliding into the ditch.

SON OF H!

He crawls into the drainage pipe, pushing Snippy up against a heap of junk to make just enough room for them both.

I'm about to contradict what I said earlier, but… we are so screwed.

Photoshop wriggles up to the opening, tilts her head and utters a gentle "Mrow?"

Engie tries to remain calm and tentatively waves at the mutant.

H-hello…

She pokes her head inside and starts to sniff the fur on his parka.

Uhh…

She snivels a bit, pulls back and sneezes.

So, Snippy, which news do you think will be more devastating to Pilot: "Your disgusting pet devoured your teammates" or "Your disgusting pet has a cold"?

Photoshop snarls and begins to gag.

Oh, correction: we're gonna get puked on… and then get eaten.

The gargantuan worm hacks once more, retching out a pair of shoes and a rifle, both drenched in repulsive goo.

Ugh… Wait.
So she did eat that bastard!
I'd celebrate, but chances are, we're next.

Photoshop pokes her head back inside and continues to sniff Engie.

Starting with me, I'm guessing.

She bears her many jagged rows of teeth and presses against his respirator.

Y-yep…

Engie squints and quivers as the worm strokes him with her broad, slimy tongue.

Urrrgh…
Just get it over with already.

She pulls away, whines Mrrrowl? and nudges him.

What? What do you want?!

Lowering her head, Photoshop nudges him again.

Oh. Um…

Engie hesitantly reaches out and pets her.

Er, that?

Photoshop purrs contently and nuzzles his hand, then slithers away.

Uh, Charles…

What just happened?

…

Forget it. The beast is gone now. Let's get out of this putrid thing and go home.

He climbs out of the drainage pipe and helps Snippy out.

Here, you can put this to better use than me.

He picks up the gooey rifle and hands it to the sniper.

…After cleaning it, of course.

Then Engie hoists the weary man up on his shoulders again and they continue their trek back to base.
___________________________________________________________

Snippy stirs to find the least straining position on top of Engie's shoulders as he is being carried closer to the base.

The day has been a rough one. Snippy is far too tired to talk more than necessary, and the exhaustion his injury brought doesn't allow him to do a lot more than focusing to keep his grasp on the rifle Engie gave him.

His vision is fuzzy, still his head is not hurting nearly as bad as the gunshot wound on his left leg.

A few times Engie nudges him, asking if he is still conscious, but Sniper is far too tired to speak, so he just responds with a soft moan.

The loss of blood and the pain have made him feeling light-headed, and Snippy puts all his focus into staying conscious.

At some point he manages to make out landmarks that tell him they are pretty close to the base.

Almost there…
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^{To be continued... (if Engie is up for it xD)}