Immediately, just by the vibes coming off the person in waves, I know they aren’t Knox, and I've seriously fucked up.
"Well lookie what we have here." An unknown voice taunts. My heart pounding against my chest, I spin around, coming face to face with two men.
One is tall and wiry with a scraggly beard and soulless eyes that remind me of a fucking serial killer. The other one is shorter and thicker, but just as menacing. He hangs back a little, watching me with the same hungry look as his companion. Neither of them is carrying a weapon I can see, but that doesn't mean they don’t have any. My hands shake, but I force myspine straight so as to not let on to them how hard my heart is pounding against my chest.
Everything I've learned over the past few years slams into me. In my head, I go over all the things I should be doing. Stay calm, assess the situation, don't give them anything to use against you.
"I'm not alone," I say, with a steady voice. "My group is right back there." I hitch my thumb behind me. It's a gamble. I don't know if these men have been watching us, don't know what they've seen.
The tall one smiles, and it doesn't reach those dead eyes at all. He takes one slow step toward me, and then another, like he has all the time in the world and he knows something I don't. "That so?" He says it almost lazily, like he knows he has me. "Then how come nobody came running when you started talking to yourself just now?" My stomach drops straight to the ground.
The tall one opens his mouth to say something else, and that's when I hear it. Footsteps, they're heavy and moving through the underbrush in a way that makes no effort to be quiet. Branches are snapping, leaves are crunching. The person coming up on us has all the confidence in the world that they don't need to sneak up. The two men hear it too. I watch their attitudes shift immediately. Gone are the lazy looks the tall one's smile falters, and the shorter one takes a half step back, his eyes cutting toward the sound. Knox breaks through the tree line with his rifle slung across his chest and his hand resting on it in a way that looks casual to anyone who doesn't know him. But I know him well enough now to see that there is nothing casual about any part of him in this moment.
With the experience of a man who once protected a thriving town, he assesses the scene quickly. I can see the gears turning in his mind. There's me, the two men, the distance between us, and his eyes go flat and dark in a way I haven't seen from himbefore. He doesn't raise the weapon, he pushes it behind his back. With the authority he wears like a vest, he plants his feet, and looks at the tall one like he is the least concerning thing he's encountered since Eruption. "Beth." His voice is completely even. "Come here."
I take one step toward Knox and the tall one moves fast, faster than I expected, cutting off my path. "I don't think so." The lazy act is definitely gone now, replaced by the ugliness of this world. His mouth is turned up in a sneer. He looks over at Knox with the kind of conviction that only comes from being stupid or dangerous, and I'm not sure which one applies here. He gestures back and forth between them. "Two of us, one of you. I like those odds."
Knox doesn't blink. Instead, he smirks. "You shouldn't."
The shorter one moves first, lunging toward Knox from the side in a way that's clearly meant to distract rather than inflict injury. Knox sidesteps it with a move that would have impressed me under any other circumstances, catching the shorter man by the arm and driving his elbow hard into his face. The crack of it turns my stomach. But the tall one uses the split second of motion, and that's when I see the blade. It's a long hunting knife that catches the morning light as he drives it into Knox's side before Knox can fully turn back toward him.
"Knox!" His name tears out of my throat.
He grunts, it's low, sharp, and full of pain. But he doesn't go down. He takes one step back, and the tall man comes at him again, and that's when everything happens at once. I want to scream at him to use his gun, but it would probably take too long to pull it back over in front of his chest and set up a shot. Like an idiot, I left my handgun back at the camp. Knox draws his own knife from his belt with the hand not pressed against his side and the fight that follows is brutal, bloody and faster than anything I've ever seen. When it's over, both would-be assailants are onthe ground and neither one of them is getting back up. Knox stands over them for a moment, breathing hard, one hand still pressed to his side.
Then he looks up at me. His eyes are full of concern, and a softness that wasn't there before. The man who literally can kill, is gone. "You okay?"
"Am I okay?" My voice breaks on the words. "Knox, you've been stabbed."
"Yeah, I'm aware. Fuck, that hurts." He says it with such infuriating calm that I want to shake him. He takes a step toward me and I close the distance between us, getting under his arm without asking, taking some of his weight.
"Let me see it." I'm already pulling at the hem of his shirt, the muscle memory of years of nursing cutting through the panic like a switch being flipped. The wound is on his left side, below his ribs. Deep enough to bleed seriously, not deep enough, I hope, to have hit any vital organs. I press my hand firmly against it and feel him tense. "I know," I say automatically. "I know it hurts. Keep pressure on it." I take his free hand and press it over mine for a second before replacing it with his own.
He's a former first responder. He obviously knows what he's doing, but I can't help but try and take the lead. It's what I used to do in the ER, too.
"How bad?" For the first time this morning, he looks directly at me.
"I need to clean and pack the wound, and you need to not tear it open getting back to the Jeep." I wrap my arm back around him. "So lean on me."
He doesn't argue.
Getting back through the tree line takes twice as long as it should, Knox moving carefully and breathing in controlled inhales and exhales that tell me he's managing pain he isn't going to admit that he's having. When we reach the Jeep, I helphim sit, and make him as comfortable as possible. Once I’m sure he’s not going to pass out, I get the door open and dig through our supplies until I find the first aid kit. It's basic as fuck, but it'll do. There’s antiseptic, butterfly bandages, and some gauze to pack the wound. I’m calling on all the training I’ve had to open the antiseptic, and put it on some gauze so I can clean it.
“Shit that fucking stings,” Knox grits his teeth, setting his jaw.
“I know, I know it does, but we have to make sure we get this bleeding stopped as much as we can. I trust you to protect me, Knox. Trust me to make sure you’re going to survive.”
Once I’m done cleaning it, and packing it as best I can with the gauze, I tape it down tight while Knox sits on the edge of the seat and stares out at the tree line with his jaw set.
"This needs more than what I can do out here," I tell him, smoothing the last piece of tape down. "It needs to be properly sutured."
"Nashville." He bites out with a wince. Then his eyes come back to mine. "If there's a group building something that's going to last, there's going to be medical supplies. Might even be someone who can stitch it right."
"Knox, I can fucking stitch it. I just don’t have the proper equipment." I bite out, irritated that he’s implying I can’t take care of him the way he takes care of me. I close the first aid kit and sit back on my heels, looking up at him. The morning light is fully up now, cutting through the trees, and he looks pale beneath his tan. "I can drive."
"I can do it," he argues.
"Knox."
