Obianuju

"Salisu?"

No response.

My heart pounded as I dropped to my knees beside him. His body lay still-too still. I leaned closer and pressed my ear to his chest.

A heartbeat.

Faint. Uneven. But still there.

I let out a shaky breath, the kind that made my shoulders drop from pure relief.

Then-

It slowed.

"No. No, no-don't do this to me." I shook him gently, voice rising. "You stubborn fool, don't die now."

I checked the wound again. The bullet had gone clean through. An exit wound-something people always said was better. But it didn't matter if he bled out here, in the middle of nowhere.

I pressed both hands against the injury. Blood warmed my palms, thick and fast. He was still bleeding too much.

I needed something to stop it. Anything.

I patted his body down, trying to be careful, but desperate. My fingers brushed something soft in his jacket pocket-a crumpled cloth, maybe once a handkerchief. It smelled like sweat and old rain.

It would have to do.

I pressed it firmly against the wound and whispered nonsense under my breath. Not real prayers. Just fear, mixed with hope.

But the clearing was too open. We couldn't stay here. They'd find us. Sooner or later, they always did.

I had to move him.

I pulled at his shoulders.

The first attempt nearly ripped my own arm from the socket.

The second time, I fell face-first into the dirt.

I cursed under my breath, then pushed myself up and tried again.

I dragged him inch by inch. Branches tore at my arms. The pain in my leg slowed me down. I tripped over roots, slipped on mud. Blood from his wound smeared along the leaves.

Every few steps, I stopped to use my hands to scatter leaves over our trail. It wasn't perfect, but it might slow them down. Might be enough.

Eventually, I found a small dip between two thick trees, half-covered in vines and leaves. Not quite a hiding place, but better than nothing.

I laid him down gently. My whole body shook from effort.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Now we fix you."

I pulled the cloth away to check the bleeding. Still there-but not gushing anymore. I needed proper supplies. Something to clean it, stop infection, slow the blood.

I grabbed his bag.

It was heavier than I expected. Packed in a hurry, but not carelessly.

A knife.

Matches inside a metal tin.

A folded map.

A strip of cloth-probably from an old shirt.

Two dry crackers.

A small pouch of roasted groundnuts.

A wrap of dried garri.

A few kola nuts tucked in the corner.

Not much, but I could work with it.

I took the cleaner cloth and wiped gently around the wound, then used the original handkerchief to press down again. Slower bleeding now. Still bad, but manageable.

I tucked the groundnuts back into the bag so they wouldn't spill-he might need them later. When he woke.

When, not if.

I stared at his face. His breathing was shallow, but it hadn't stopped. Not yet.

Still, it wasn't enough.

I needed more-something from the forest. Something natural. I'd seen Amara back in Umu-anya Nta use herbs and leaves. She had packed crushed plants into wounds before.

I didn't know their names. But I remembered the shape. The smell.

I touched his shoulder before leaving. "Stay alive. Please."

The forest air was damp and cold. My limp made the walk slower, and my eyes kept jumping at shadows. But I stayed focused.

Eventually, I found what I was looking for-bitter leaves with wide veins and a strong, sharp scent. Amara always used them when someone got cut.

I crushed the leaves against a flat rock until they turned into thick, green paste.

Back at the hiding spot, I applied the paste gently around the wound, careful not to pack it into the bullet hole. Then I used the old shirt cloth to tie everything in place.

The bleeding had drastically reduced.

Still breathing.

But his chest rose a little more steadily now.

I checked his water bottle. Empty.

I'd heard a stream nearby earlier. I followed the sound and found it-a narrow line of water under the moonlight. I filled the bottle and drank a little with my hands.

It tasted clean enough.

Back in the clearing, I laid out what little we had.

Water. Crackers. Groundnuts. Garri.

All he could offer.

My hands wouldn't stop trembling-not from fear, but from memory.

The last time I was alone in the dark with someone bleeding beside me...

The screams.

The smoke.

Adaugo

And the boy who didn't survive.

I pressed my hands over my ears, trying to block the thoughts out. But the forest was quiet. It didn't care. It simply watched.

I looked back at Salisu and sat beside him.

I needed to rest. Just for a second. Just to stop shaking.

"I did everything I could," I whispered. "So you don't get to die now. Not after all this."

I leaned against the tree trunk, clutching the water bottle, one hand resting on his arm like I could will him to stay alive.

And I let my eyes close, whispering one last thought before sleep took me:

Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and this will all be a dream.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Obianuju dragging a whole man through the forest while wounded, tired, and half-haunted?? Girl is on a mission.
But hey, this is war fiction. Pain is the genre at this point 💀💔.

From here on out, just know-
💣 Trust NO ONE
🩸 Pack TISSUES
🔥 And maybe... sleep with one eye open 😅

You amazing readers are the real MVPs.
I'd really appreciate it if you guys shared your thoughts.

So Drop a Comment below 👇. Anything except death threats 👀.

Thanks for reading and surviving with these two 🫶
Chapter 12 is on the way...
And yeah. It might get worse.