Ryan is lying on his back, panting, with a large cut on his side.
And John is... It's too horrible.
A chunk of skin is missing from his arm, and he's covered, no, drenched in his own blood.
On the Bright Side, though, the Jacks are gone for now.
I run to John first because he's hurt the most.
"What are you doing?" He croaks, exhausted from the effort of speaking.
I stroke the side of his face, and say, "Shh... It's alright. I'm gonna patch up your wounds."
He laughs humorlessly. "Don't bother. Even if you do manage to save me, I'll just slow you two down. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Fix up Ryan and get out of the city. Find some other city to go to, bring help. Talk to some military guys... They might have a bazooka or two for that Rex," He whispers, grimacing at the pain.
"Are you sure? But the Jacks will eat you," I say, unable to believe that he wanted to die.
"Yeah, I'm sure. My sister will be waiting for me." He smiles faintly. "She won't be too happy that I didn't wait longer, but so long as you and Ryan survive, I really don't care."
Hearing his name, Ryan sits up, and groans.
"Felicia, as much as I hate to say it, he's right. He will slow us down. I don't want to leave him, either, but you're my main priority. And the scent of his blood is only going to attract more Jacks," Ryan says, shaking his head. A tear rolls down his cheek; whether its from the pain or because John is dying, I can't tell.
"Okay," I sigh, closing my eyes, and trying really hard not to cry.
I stand up slowly and start tending to Ryan. I tear his shirt and tie it tightly around his chest, knowing that it's not the best tourniquet, but that it will do. Thinking better of it, I rip his entire shirt and tie that around him too. He winces, but says nothing. I run back into the hunting store, thankful that they sold hunting shirts.
"Put that on," I say, handing him a dark blue shirt that said Cabela's.
"Ryan, the least we can do is move him out of the open. It'll be really tricky, and he may cry out in pain, but the Jacks wouldn't find him quite so easily," I say in a whisper, turning to him with pleading eyes.
"He might not want to be moved. We'll ask him."
I jog back to John and check his pulse, staining my hands with his blood.
There is none. I put my ear over his mouth and try listening for a breath, but it's silent.
I look back up at Ryan...