the stone and covered by a metal grate. Rubble lay everywhere and a large piece of the intricate marble that was once the floor of the town center stood upright against the opposite wall. As I looked at it my mind drifted back to the bandits and whether they had escaped the dead ambush. I sincerely hoped not.
“I know what you did for me up there,” the girl said. I looked over, she seemed to be preparing something but I couldn’t make out what as her back was turned while she fiddled in her pack. “I want you to know I appreciate it”
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just let my head rest back on the cold bricks and smiled.
She glanced back at me, perhaps unnerved by my silence. “We need to do something about your wounds” she began, “That was one hell of a fall you took, not to mention the bullet lodged in your shoulder there.”
She finished whatever she was doing with her pack and walked over holding a large medical supply box. She sat cross-legged in front of me and slid open the clasps. She really was the picture of beauty and even in the darkness, it was impossible to break my stare from her.
She was around the same height as me, her body slender and toned under the skin-tight sneaking suit. She had her long brown hair tied back in a low ponytail and her eyes were big and fierce. She narrowed them slightly as my gaze met hers. I coughed and looked down, looking instead at the assortment of bandages and ointments in the box.
“Take off your shirt,” she said. I blinked. “Take off your shirt” she repeated, “I need to be able to dress your wounds, don’t I?”
I looked up at her and she smiled, raising her eyebrows. I complied and moments later I was stripped to the waist, shivering slightly in the cold breeze. I looked at the painful wound in my shoulder, dirty and bloody.
“Let me check you over before we get to the nasty business of removing that bullet,” she said leaning forward.
Instinctively I made to block her, but she took my hands and pushed them gently back to my sides. The feeling of her hands on my body was a welcome one as she ran her fingers over old scars and applied slight pressure against my ribs while checking for any breakages.
“Tell me your real name,” she said suddenly, sitting back. For a moment I was caught off guard before she continued, “I mean I know your runner name, Ghost, right?” I nodded slowly. “But what is your birth name?” I reached up to run my hand through my hair, “Oh wait, sorry” she said, stopping me before leaning forward and wiping away the blood from a cut just above my eye.
I smiled and tried to think of an answer to her question. In truth, I had never been known by any other name, at least not to my knowledge.
She looked at me with a slightly concerned look on her beautiful face, “You must have a real name” she said. “I mean the people in my zone call me Smoke, which is, of course, my runner name, but my real name is Kaatje.”
I looked back at the ground, thinking hard. Memories of my mother and father passed through my mind, painful memories, but no matter how hard I tried I failed to remember a time when any other name was used.
“Rick” I lied. “My name is Rick”. I looked up at her and she was smiling again.
I worried that perhaps she somehow sensed I had made that up, but probably just thought I had hit my head a little too hard. Either way, I allowed my eyes to linger on her perfect face.
“A pleasure, Rick,” she said, “Now let’s get that bullet out.”
She unclipped a gleaming pair of what looked like pliers from her medical kit before handing me a short piece of wood from the surrounding debris.
“Put that between your teeth and bite down because this is going to sting a little and I haven’t got anything to use as a painkiller”
She moved forward and positioned herself so that her legs were on either side of mine. In any other situation, I suppose I would’ve enjoyed this level of interaction. I placed the foul-tasting board between my teeth and took a deep breath as she splashed water on the wound.
Blinding pain erupted behind my eyes