The Hunt

Chapter 24

Werewolf behavior is one of many studies. This is necessary for proper preparation on hunting expeditions and studies of specimens. Werewolves have been found to retain their human thought and personality, controlling themselves quite well when in wolf form. This has to be taken into consideration when planning large scale hunts, so as not to underestimate their abilities to plan and retaliate. One disadvantage werewolves have is lack of detailed communication while in wolf form. More studies on animal communication are underway to help us further in understanding these creatures.

Hunter's Codex, Introduction to were pg. 16

    Cassy and Chris ran off again. We had plans to watch a movie marathon and by the end of the day they canceled on me. Saying something about how their Aunt needed them.
    I sat on the couch and curled up underneath a nice thick blanket. Intent on having my movie marathon even though I was alone. Will never responded to my text asking if he wanted to join me. It was a long shot, he had already told me earlier this morning that he and Caden had a lot of work to do. He apologized ahead of time if it took him a while to answer.
    That was okay, though. I was a big girl and could handle some time by myself. My bowl of popcorn was gone thirty minutes into the first movie and I had started on the boxes of candy we had bought earlier in the day.
    It was halfway through the second movie that someone began banging on the door. I froze where I sat, not sure if I should get up and answer it.
    Someone started coughing on the other side, sounding rough. "Michelle?" Even though the voice was faint I recognized it.
    I was at the front door, yanking it open without realizing I had even stood from the couch. There in front of me stood Will, naked as the day he was born, covered in blood, leaning against the doorframe.
    Everyone reacts differently to shocking situations. Some may scream if they see their naked boyfriend on their front porch in the middle of the night, covered in blood from a gunshot wound. Others may pass out. Me? I was trained by my family how to handle these situations.
    Not because we go around getting shot, no. It's because we live and breathe guns. I have been taught and trained from a young age what to do if something happens while out hunting. Firearms are dangerous and freak accidents happen.
    I don't think Will realized what was happening before I drug him in the house, and propped him against the bar on the floor throwing my blanket from earlier over him.
    "My God, Will! What happened?" My voice was shaky, nerves getting the better of me even though I knew what to do.
    He was gasping for air, eyes trained on me. "I was shot." He let out a nervous laugh.
    I ran to the bathroom downstairs in Cassy's room and grabbed a handful of towels and rags. Bringing them back with me I responded. "I can see that."
    With one of the rags balled up I pressed it against the hole in his side that had an unnerving amount of blood coming out of it. "Can you apply pressure? I need to get my phone and call an ambulance."
    He grabbed at my hand covering the rag and held me there. "No, don't call." His voice was strained as he winced in pain from the pressure.
    "Are you insane? I'm calling, keep pressure so you don't bleed out." I trembled out. Again, though, I couldn't move as he grabbed at me, holding me in place.
    "Please, don't call." The amount of pain he was in had him clenching his teeth as he spoke.
    "Dammit, Will! This isn't the time to mess around!" I snapped.
    His grip on my arm tightened, if you could call it that, and he wiped at my face with his free hand. "I'm sorry, just please don't call. I'll be okay."
    I realized then he was trying to wipe the tears off my face that I didn't realize were there.
    "Shit." I pushed his hands against the wadded up rag and ran some of the unused ones to the bathroom. I soaked them in the hottest water I could get to come out of the faucet and searched the cupboards for a first aid kit. Grabbing some hydrogen peroxide with it I made my way back into the kitchen where. Will was propped, eyes closed.
    I grabbed his hands that were barely holding the rag in place and pushed all my weight onto it. "Will Jones, if you die on me here then I'm going to kill you."
    He grunted in pain, the pressure momentarily pulling him out of his dozing.
    "Wake up and work with me here. If I can't call for an ambulance then you need to suck it up and help me keep you alive." I grabbed him by his chin and forced him to look at me. He was slipping but awake enough.
    He gave another nervous laugh. "I don't think I've ever heard you cuss before, you know?"
    "Well you're about to hear a lot more if you don't apply pressure." I put his hands on the rags once again and forced him to push. "I'm not letting you die on my kitchen floor."
    After he was aware enough to put pressure on his wound I began to search through the first aid kit. It was a piece of crap, not having what I needed outside of some sterile wipes and gauze.
    One of the first things we were taught before handling a gun on our own was how to prep the wound to help buy time. Of course, that was so we could wait until help could come. I didn't really know how to fix a bullet wound.
    "Listen to me, Will."
    He grunted in response, focussing all his energy on holding the rag in place. It was now soaked through completely.
    Grabbing another rag I placed it over the one already there, adjusting his hands to hold them both in place. "I'm going to clean the wound, okay? It'll probably hurt. At least I assume so, I've never been shot before."
    He watched as I opened the peroxide and prepared one of the hot rags.
    "Michelle?" He asked, voice weak.
    "Yeah?"
    "There's a bullet in there, and I need it out."
    I froze where I was. "We're not supposed to remove the bullet. It can cause more damage than just leaving it there."
    He gave a weak nod. "I know, but this one is different. There's something on it that I need out of my system so I can heal." His voice shook as he tried to squeeze the words out.
    Removing a bullet wasn't part of what I was taught. We were taught how to buy time so that if you were out in the woods hunting help could find you.
    "I swear, Will, you're going to be the death of me." I grabbed one of the alcohol wipes and began to clean my hands with it, pulling on a pair of the gloves from the kit.
    "I feel like I should be the one to say that." He tried giving me one of his lopsided grins.
    My vision went blurry as it was finally catching up to me what could actually happen. What was most likely going to happen. "Dammit, Will." I whispered out, trying to hold the tears back.
    Moving the rags wasn't a good idea, pressure would keep him from bleeding out, but the wound needed to be cleaned and Will wanted the bullet out. After giving the gloves a wipe down with a fresh alcohol wipe I moved the rags out of the way.
    The blood that poured out was far too much for one person to be losing. It brought on a string of swear words from my lips as I took one of the hot rags and wiped the area as best as I could.
    Pouring peroxide on the wound was the first moment Will showed any signs of energy. He screamed through his teeth and tensed, trying to pull away. I was able to hold him in place while I cleaned and sterilized the spot.
    The fact that I could pin him in place was not a good sign. I had to steal myself before I stuck my fingers in the wound to find the bullet. This time his scream rang through my ears as my fingers grazed something hard.
    "Be still! I found it and I need you to stop moving!" I yelled at him.
    He tried to relax and took deep breaths as I was able to work the bullet out of the hole.
    The moment I heard the bullet clatter to the ground I poured more peroxide on the spot and grabbed the blood soaked rags to apply more pressure.
    A shaky breath ran through Will. "Is it out?" I was amazed he didn't pass out from the pain.
    "Yeah." I searched his face, trying to gauge his state. "Are you still okay to apply pressure?"
    He nodded and his hands took place on the rags. I ripped the blood soaked gloves off my hands and ran to grab more blankets from the living room. When I came back I draped them around his shoulders and legs, covering as much skin as I could.
    "We need to keep your body from going into shock. Your toes are already turning blue."
    He gave me another nod, taking deep breaths.
    I applied pressure to the gunshot wound, occasionally checking his pulse and to see if the bleeding slowed. Maybe he was right, maybe he would be okay. His pulse was strong and his breathing was evening out as we calmed from the adrenaline.
    After some time I checked and the bleeding had reduced quite a bit so I held the rags in place with some of the wrap and gauze that was in the first aid kit. Now it was just a waiting game.
    Will was coming in and out of consciousness, but his color was slowly beginning to come back. I took a shaky breath and leaned back against the cabinets behind me, letting out the tension I was holding in.
    "Dammit, Will."
    He opened his eyes slightly to look at me, "Is that all you can say?"
    "Yes." I ran my arm over my face, wiping away the tears that rushed in. "If you live, that's all you'll be hearing from me for the rest of our lives."
    Another weak, lopsided smile graced his face. "So we'll be together forever?"
    That's all he took from what I said? "Dammit, Will." I sobbed.
    He closed his eyes. "Sorry." It was just a whisper but I heard it.
    I watched as he fell asleep, propped against the bar on the kitchen floor. The house was a mess. There was blood everywhere and probably all over the porch too. Not knowing what to do now that he was as stable as I could get him, I decided cleaning would work. I scrubbed and mopped with bleach, cleaning as best as I could. Throwing all the blood soaked towels in the trash and tying it up.
    It took most of the night for me to finish cleaning the house and porch. I checked his pulse multiple times throughout and it was still beating well. Once I finally settled down on the clean floor next to him is when I began to relax.
    Other than the naked sleeping man, wrapped in blankets on my kitchen floor, you couldn't tell that there was anything wrong.