A Hunter and A Healer

I pulled the trigger, his hands releasing my neck. He went limp over my body, and his blood started dripping on me. I pushed him off the best I could, maneuvering under him. I looked through the man’s backpack, finding some food, matches, and dirty clothes. I took it all anyway, shoving my things in his backpack. His backpack was nicer than mine, and it didn’t have nearly as many holes. 

A dizzy spell came over me, and I realized I had a knife lodged in my abdomen. Blood stained my fingers as I tried to inspect the damage. Unfortunately for me, I’d never had the best gag reflex, especially when it came to large pools of blood. I couldn’t move the blade until I had something to treat myself with. I took the man’s belt and tightened it around my body above the knife. A sharp pain ran through me when I stood up, but I simply breathed through it. When I had all I could take, I began to walk again. Time was of the essence, and I was bleeding out. I had enough skills to staple or sew myself together, but there was nothing of the sort in this ransacked house.

After the virus hit, people began to die very quickly. Nearly half of the world population was wiped out. Since many specialized workers died, the world couldn’t continue to function the way it had. There weren't enough farmers to tend to or harvest the crops. The food supply dropped. Every field afterwards was affected, and things began to fall like dominoes. A lot of people abandoned their trades to simply survive by becoming hunters or gatherers. The hunters killed whoever and whatever they needed. The gatherers searched homes and abandoned stores for food and supplies. It was always better to find a gatherer. They were no threat. Hunters were immediately as lethal as they could be. Kill or be killed was the way of the world with few resources. At least as a hunter, I had a fighting chance of delaying my death. 

I wasn’t going to wait around for another hunter to find me. I walked out of the house, holding on to the wall as long as I could. I felt the knife lodged in me every time I took a step. The more I walked, the colder I felt. My breathing was labored, and my steps became shorter. Everything was too heavy. I tipped over and fell on my side. I forced myself on my back, moving my head towards a noise. This was how I would die it seemed. I’d always thought it would be from starvation. 

It’s okay. You’re ready, the voice in my head seemed to say. You’ve suffered enough. You’ve been alone for too long. Join your family.

Noises around me, real or fake, began to fade, and I felt like I was sinking in water. I saw a light shine on my eyes before everything went black. 

#

I’d never quite believed in God because I always believed that this life we were all subjected to was already Hell. When I finally regained some sentience, Hell seemed a lot more peaceful than I imagined. It was quiet and bright. Maybe eternal loneliness and pain was the price I would pay for every person I’d ever harmed. I moved my hand to feel the area where the pain was, and I remembered I’d been stabbed. Bandages replaced where the knife used to be. I felt sore. The pain was too intense. This couldn’t be death. 

“Hello,” a voice said. 

I looked around trying to find where the voice was coming from. I was in a white room, on a bed with some clear drawers and supplies. There was a window that let me know that it was nighttime. My arm was hooked up to an IV. I didn’t realize those still existed. 

The voice came from the door frame. A young man with brown shoulder length hair, some dark stubble, and hazel eyes stood by the door. He seemed to be wearing scrubs. He was tall and thin, but not in a bad way. 

I didn’t speak. He didn’t seem like a threat; he seemed too well kept for that lifestyle. There were no scars on the most visible parts of his body. My own sense of self preservation refused to allow my guard down. 

He began to approach me, and I tried to find a weapon, reaching for my pants. I usually kept a small knife in my pocket, but I wasn’t wearing my clothes. I was enveloped in soft materials, a t-shirt covering my top half and a blanket covering my bottom half. 

He held his hands up as he approached me, likely seeing the tension in my body. I would pounce if I had to. 

He moved slowly, taking my wrist gently and looked at his watch. 

The realization set it. He wasn’t a gatherer or a hunter. I didn’t even realize people like him still existed. “You’re a doctor,” I whispered. 

He smiled and wrote something down on a loose piece of paper next to my bed. He put a stethoscope to my chest, and I inhaled deeply on instinct.

“You lost a lot of blood. I didn’t think you were going to make it,” he said. “I almost walked past you on the side of the road.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“I’m used to it.” 

I tried sitting up but he put his arms out to stop me. “Take it easy, Sabrina.” 

My eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“I looked through your backpack to see if there was anything I could find about your health, like allergies. You still had an old passport in there.”

I laughed dryly. “You must have a comfy life, Doc. Allergies went out the window when over half of the population died.”

“You must live like a hunter.”

“Only way to survive here.”

The doctor smiled. “Barely.”

“So I take it you aren’t a hunter on your days off, Doc. How do you get food since you’re so busy treating the trash on the side of the road?”

He flinched at my trash comment. “I’m a doctor, Sabrina. People seem to be quite kind when you can offer them care. There is no fighting here nor aggression. Everyone gets help, and everyone does it in peace. Those that are more grateful than others sometimes come back with food.” He nodded towards the window. “I have a garden in the backyard too.”

“Yeah, and how long do you think this will last for you?”

“Five years so far,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Essentially, since the virus wiped out everyone. 

“What’s your name?” I asked after a second. 

He wrinkled his nose. “Francesco.”

“You don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “My family was very Italian. I am...not.”

“Well, Frankie, if you want to change your name, why don’t you? There isn’t really anything in place that says you can’t. It’s no man’s land out there.”

He smiled at the nickname, but then his eyes lost their humor. “What happened to you, Sabrina?”

“I got stabbed.”

His smile faded. “Yes, I’m aware.”

I looked away. “I went into an abandoned house for canned food. It had been a while since I’d eaten, and it’s the easiest way to find food. Someone else had the same idea...I’m a female...so he thought he’d get...me...before...killing...me.”

Frankie took my hand, and the kindness forced me to look at him. “You’re safe here.” 

I sighed. “Well, I promise I’ll be out of your space soon. I could probably leave today if you don’t mind giving me some bandages. You can keep whatever you want in my backpack as a thank you.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve only managed to get some broth in you while you were unconscious, so if you want some food, I think it’s a good time to get you fed.”

“You don’t have to.”

He stood up and walked out of the room. I tried to sit up, slowly, pressure building as my abdomen was doing most of the work in terms of bending. Tears filled my eyes from the sharp pain, but I pushed through until I was sitting.

He walked in to see me panting and crying but upright. He set the plate down quickly and ran to me. 

“Jesus, are you okay?!” he asked, cupping my face to meet my eyes. 

I nodded. I held up a finger, telling him to give me a second. I got my breathing under control, and once my body got a chance to adjust, the pain lessened. He pulled pillows from a table and cushioned my back to help me stay seated up.

“Just...please don’t next time,” he said before bringing me a bowl of soup. 

I ate ravenously while he looked through some pages of notes. 

“You’re not hungry?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “It’s a bit too early for me.”    

“What time is it?” 

“4 a.m.”

“I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry. Is this your bed? I can move.”

He laughed. “No, you can’t, and no, it isn’t. If I’m honest, it’s been a while since I’ve talked to anyone. It’s nice to have company.”

I knew what he meant. I hadn’t had a non-hunting related non-profanity enticing conversation with anyone in close to three years. Maybe he was just as lonely as I was. 

I liked him. 

I liked the feeling of humanity that he brought me. The kindness he offered was not something I could imagine still existed in this selfish world. I’d hunted with groups before, but no one did anything just to be kind. Actions were strategic and with ulterior motives. Most people had their eyes betray them. I was good at reading them; I could foresee the attack that was coming. But him...there was nothing in his eyes but warmth. I’d never seen anything like that. When his hands lifted, it was to heal. I didn’t deserve this. 

I didn’t deserve kindness. I’d killed many people. I could say that it was for my own survival, but there was no gray area to my actions. I wasn’t...good. I knew me, knew my reflection from every time I looked at myself. Everything reflected was the opposite of the man sitting next to me. There was no kindness in my face or my eyes. I was a savage with wild empty eyes and gaunt features.

I didn’t deserve his time.

When I was done eating, he took the plate from me. 

“Do you want more?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Thank you.” I felt a knot in my throat after the words left my lips. 

“Do you want to lay back down?

I nodded, letting him help me. I couldn’t help but start crying. Big, ugly tears I hadn’t let myself shed in years spilled out of my eyes. Sobs built up in my chest, even more painful than the physical injury I had just a few inches below.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around me. I hugged him back, needing the warmth of another human. He ran his fingers down my hair, trying to soothe me. But he never tried to silence my cries. He let me sob until there was nothing left inside me. 

When the tears finally stopped, I felt weak. My grip loosened, and my arms began to slide off his body. I breathed, deep and heavy. He carefully took his arms from under me, doing his best to keep my frail body together. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

I nodded slightly. 

“I think it’s time for you to get some rest,” he said, patting my hand. 

I took his hand, weakly before he could turn away. 

“Okay,” he said. We both knew he could break free if he wanted to, but he used his other hand to pull a chair. 

He brushed my hair back, away from my eyes. “Sleep, Sabrina. You’re safe. I’ll be right here.”

My eyelids fluttered once more before they closed for the rest of the night. 

#

“SABRINA!” he yelled, startling me awake. 

I was in a tub, submerged in water, and he was on me, shaking my body. A chill ran up my spine, and I started shivering. 

“Frankie?” I whispered.

“Don’t go to sleep.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, dazed.

“Stay with me, Sabrina.” His voice was urgent. 

“But it’s cold,” I whined.

“I know, baby. Keep your eyes open.” He poured water over my head. 

I wanted to throw up. “Frankie, I don’t feel so good..” I couldn’t hold my head up. 

“I know, Sabrina. Stay awake. Please.”

My eyelids kept closing. He would keep shaking me. “SABRINA, OPEN YOUR EYES.” 

“I want to sleep, Frankie.”

“I know, honey. I know. Just please, stay with me.” His voice cracked. 

I couldn’t let him down. 

“I’m here, Frankie,” I told him, my words slurring. I didn’t feel well, but he wanted me here. I would stay for him. He stuck something cold in my mouth and used a word I favored using while I was hunting. He put something wet behind my neck.

Stay with him. I wanted to go. I was so tired and in so much pain. So cold. But he wasn’t giving up. He kept pouring water over me. 

He removed the thing he’d placed in my mouth and poured water down my throat. “Drink, Sabrina.” 

Too cold, too too cold. 

“Please.”

I nodded and shoved down the knot in my throat to let the liquid through until I started coughing. I glanced at him in between the chaos. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was really red. 

I reached out to touch his face. “I’m okay, Frankie.”

He turned his face to kiss my hand. “Please live.”

I nodded. Anything to help him feel better. “Water?” 

I kept drinking until I couldn’t. When I couldn’t, he kept pouring water over my body. I don’t know how long we went through the cycle, but I grew very tired as time kept passing.

Until finally, I realized the cold thing he kept placing in my mouth was a thermometer. My temperature was finally down. 

Frankie sat back on the floor, a floor flooded by a pool of water. He was panting. 

“Infection?” I assumed. 

He nodded. “You were out for two days. You started seizing from the fever...it wouldn’t break.” 

I nodded. “Are you okay?” 

He shook his head while laughing, half deranged. The tub water was stained red, and I knew I was bleeding. That wouldn’t stop me; the pain wouldn’t either.

I got myself out of the tub before he could stop me, and I crawled over to him. Before I could overthink it, I cupped his face with my wet hands and pressed my mouth to his. 

He pulled away, startled. Oh, no. I made a mistake. He looked at me, studying my face. Then, he pulled me to him and continued the kiss, enveloping me in his arms. 

“Don’t leave me, Sabrina,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine.

“I won’t.”

He squeezed his eyes shut until his face relaxed. He opened his eyes and looked down at my red stained shirt.

He picked me up in his arms and walked us back to the room. “I think we popped your stitches.”

That brought the reality of the pain back. I winced as I touched the wet bandages. 

“No more fevers,” he said as he laid me down on the bed and got supplies from a drawer. 

“Sure thing, Doc.”

He laughed, some of the humor returning. 

“Since you’ve saved my life twice now, I think I owe you my life and one more.”

He cut my wet bandages off and started to work through the damage, pouring peroxide. “You don't owe me anything.”

“Are you sure? I’m an excellent hunter.”

He looked bewildered. “Whose life would you be giving me if I said yes?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I’m assuming humans are not your speed, but if you want bear meat, I’m your gal.”

He laughed. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

The peroxide caused some slight stinging. I gasped. He looked at me, distressed.  

“Relax. This isn’t the worst pain I’ve ever had.” I paused. “But if you want me, I can stay. If you want me to leave, I can do that too. You saved my life...so I’m yours.” 

“I only want you to stay if you want to stay.” 

“You might eventually need protection. I can be the muscle.”

He laughed. “Hey, I’m no damsel in distress.”

“Of course not. I’d be the bouncer, like at the clubs in the olden days.”

He smiled. 

“Listen, I am not a good person. I’m not sure I deserve you or your efforts to keep me alive. But…” I couldn’t believe I was saying this; I’d just met the man, and he was already my entire world, “my life is yours. I will fight for you. I will stay for you. And I will try to deserve you.”

He froze, and I couldn’t read his eyes.

“That was too much. Sorry. I’m terrible at this honesty and human interaction thing. Just for--” 

He cut me off by kissing me. “Yes.”

“Yes?” 

“Yes.” He kissed my forehead. “Now let me finish cleaning your wound. Otherwise, the deal we are making is moot.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

I leaned back and watched him meticulously complete his craft, trusting him with my life and my heart.