Infection: Dying Days

"Aye listen to me you bastard! Didn't you hear me talking to you!" 

Following the irritating voice back to its original owner, I look at Looter C, who's clutching his foot in pain. Disinterested, I say coldly.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Give me something to stop the bleeding!"

"Why the hell should I? You just tried to violate my friends."

Did he lose so much blood that he's spouting nonsense?

"Please!!"

Ignoring the desperate plea of Looter C, I turned my attention to David who, with the sledgehammer now in his hands, was staring at the looter with a fierce gaze. 

"So what should I do? Should I give him something to stop the bleeding?"

I say in a mocking tone. I don't plan to give this guy, no, insect, any type of respect whatsoever. 

"This bastard deserves no pity. Would he try to help us if we were the same way as him?"

Shifting the position of the sledgehammer in his hands, David angrily continued.

"Not to mention, this motherf*cker tried to r*pe me and Sara!...He's lucky I won't kill him."

Turning my attention back to the guy bleeding on the ground, I shrug my shoulders and say with a smirk.

"You heard the man, you ain't getting no help today. Plus we don't have anything to help you with the bleeding anyway. And besides, even if we did, we wouldn't give it to you."

"You son of a b*tch! You're just going to let me bleed out!"

"Damn skippy I am. You tried to attack us so it's only right you pay the price for doing so. Now, as you slowly bleed to death, think about all the wrong doings you did in your life and hope that the big man in the sky can forgive you for them."

"N-no, I don't wanna die here!"

"Pfft..."

Looking at how pitiful Looter C is with tears in his eyes as he cries 'I don't wanna die.' over and over again, I tried hard to stifle my laugh a little.  

As for why it's funny, it's because other than not being able to walk, he's not going to necessarily die from getting his Achilles tendon cut.

...Wait, that's if he gets any medical help with the next few hours. Otherwise, he'll just bleed out and die.

Which to me, sounds more like a 'his problem' instead of a 'my problem.' After all, It's his own fault for being in this predicament, not mine. He shouldn't have tried to do what he did.

As a matter of fact, should I destroy their family 'jewels'? 

...

Nah, I can't do it. 

Although I'd love to see their pained expressions as I crushed their nuts like a nutcracker but, I, as a man, can't bring myself to do it.

The sympathy pain would be too great!

"So what do we do with them now? Should we search them?"

Sticking the bowie knife into his left pants pocket Andy asked, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Hmm. Let's see." 

I look at all three looters again, evaluating all the stuff they have on their person. 

After a few moments of contemplating...

"Yeah. Let's search them. They might have something good on them."

They can't move whatsoever right now due to their injuries so now would be the best time to search their bodies and take what might be useful. Haha, talk about irony. 

"Desmond, here take this."

Hearing my name called, I move my eyes onto the three girls, more specifically, Big Sis. She's walking towards me with a pistol in hand. Luckily, her finger wasn't on the trigger. Which was good since it could be loaded.

When she handed it to me, I subtly felt that her hand was trembling. I also noticed that while her attention was on me, most of it was on the looters. There seemed to be a faint sense of killing intent laced within it.

Scary!

Although I wanted to ask if she was okay, I knew that now wasn't the time for that. 

"...Thanks!"

Therefore, giving my thanks, I pointed the pistol downward, unload its magazine, pull back its slide (there was one in the chamber) and start examining It.

It was clean, black, had a polymer frame, and a long steel rectangular slide on top of it. It didn't take a genius to realize which famous gun manufacturer made this pistol.

Made in Austria and known by the military and law enforcement world-wide for their reliability, this pistol was a...

"A Glock. To be more specific, a glock 22. How many bullets does it have?"

I glanced at the 15 round magazine's witness holes* and started counting the bullets. There were nine bullets left. As for the caliber, it was the middle sibling of the 9mm and the 45 ACP. The .40 S&W.

"Sigh, too bad there's only nine bullets left."

KACHK!

I lamented as I reloaded the pistol. I didn't put one in the chamber since there isn't any immediate danger around.

"Hey, at least it's better than nothing right?"

"That's true. Beggars can't be choosers. Hey, do you still want to still search for some clothes? It should be safe for the time being."

I asked Big Sis to which she shook her head and said a bit tired.

"No. Rather than search for clothes, we'll just wear what we have on. Amanda and Sara are a bit tired so they want a place to sleep."

"You too?"

"Of course, me too! Do you think I'm some robot or something?"

"I sometimes wonder about that."

With that scary a.s.s superhuman strength of yours, it's hard not to see you that way. 

"Although I know that you're thinking of  something rude, I'll let you off since I'm tired."

"If you want, you can take the keys and bring Sara and Amanda with you to sit in the truck."

Saying this, I pulled the truck keys out of my pocket and offered them to her. 

"Alright, I'll do just that. What about you guys?"

Taking the keys from my hand, Big Sis asked Sara and Amanda. To which they agreed.

After watching the girls get into the truck. I looked at Andy and David and said with a menacing smile.

"Alright, boys. Now that the girls are gone. Let's search the sh*t bags! Starting with the guy with the broken leg first. Strip him for everything he's got!"

Andy: "On it!"

David: "With p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e!"

Looter B: "L-let go of me!"

WHAM!

Trying to resist, Andy gives him a nice solid punch to the face. We're going to take every last thing these people got!

==========

Witness holes- the holes in a pistol magazine to see how many bullets are in it. They're usually numbered.

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