Nightshift 34: Cafeteria
[From here. Reposting because I realized late that I missed a room.]
Sanzo shut the door behind him with a slam, and unsteadily made his way inside, putting one of the tables between him and the entry way. He whirled, gun pointed at the door.
Several long seconds passed. The door didn't burst open. That man didn't come busting through. He kept the gun up still, a full minute passing, before he let it drop.
He finally risked a glance down at his left shoulder.
"Shit..."
It was a mess of torn flesh, gaping holes, and blood everywhere. The liquid was working its way down his left arm, and down his chest at an alarming rate. The wounds on his stomach and other arm weren't doing that much better.
He slid down, to sit against one of the table-legs
With his right hand, the monk grabbed ahold of the edge of his robes and pulled, tearing free a long section of it. The rip of fabric seemed to thunder in the cafeteria.
Awkwardly, Sanzo began to wrap it around his torso and left shoulder, the movement slow, pained. He'd forgotten just how much of a bitch this was, especially with one hand. He'd been traveling with the others for so long now - especially Hakkai - that he hadn't had to do this himself for a while. He clenched his jaw, and continued to wind the makeshift bandage.
Sanzo's hand was trembling by the time he'd managed to get the ends into a loose knot. He looked down. Somewhat sloppy job of bandaging, but considering his other arm was screwed right now, it did the job. As it stood now, it wouldn't be enough, at least not yet. It was too loose.
Past the bandage, he could see blood starting to stain his hips and the robe bunched up there. As he watched, the stain grew.
The world seemed to go gray for a moment. The monk grit his teeth.
Sanzo turned his attention back to his shoulder. With some difficulty, he managed to get one of the ties in his mouth. His hand lifted, gripping the other tie.
The monk took several deep breaths, mentally bracing for what was to come next.
He suddenly jerked his head to the side, pulling with his teeth, hand pulling its tie in the opposite direction at the same time, tightening the bandage abruptly. There was a flash of white-hot agony, as the bandages pressed hard against the wound, a lance of fire that raked down his fingers, and shot back down his shoulder and into his stomach.
Sanzo couldn't stop the choked moan of pain that squeezed past his throat.
But it was over. His hand fell, limp from the tie, and he spat out the other one, letting his head fall back with a thud.
Sanzo shut the door behind him with a slam, and unsteadily made his way inside, putting one of the tables between him and the entry way. He whirled, gun pointed at the door.
Several long seconds passed. The door didn't burst open. That man didn't come busting through. He kept the gun up still, a full minute passing, before he let it drop.
He finally risked a glance down at his left shoulder.
"Shit..."
It was a mess of torn flesh, gaping holes, and blood everywhere. The liquid was working its way down his left arm, and down his chest at an alarming rate. The wounds on his stomach and other arm weren't doing that much better.
He slid down, to sit against one of the table-legs
With his right hand, the monk grabbed ahold of the edge of his robes and pulled, tearing free a long section of it. The rip of fabric seemed to thunder in the cafeteria.
Awkwardly, Sanzo began to wrap it around his torso and left shoulder, the movement slow, pained. He'd forgotten just how much of a bitch this was, especially with one hand. He'd been traveling with the others for so long now - especially Hakkai - that he hadn't had to do this himself for a while. He clenched his jaw, and continued to wind the makeshift bandage.
Sanzo's hand was trembling by the time he'd managed to get the ends into a loose knot. He looked down. Somewhat sloppy job of bandaging, but considering his other arm was screwed right now, it did the job. As it stood now, it wouldn't be enough, at least not yet. It was too loose.
Past the bandage, he could see blood starting to stain his hips and the robe bunched up there. As he watched, the stain grew.
The world seemed to go gray for a moment. The monk grit his teeth.
Sanzo turned his attention back to his shoulder. With some difficulty, he managed to get one of the ties in his mouth. His hand lifted, gripping the other tie.
The monk took several deep breaths, mentally bracing for what was to come next.
He suddenly jerked his head to the side, pulling with his teeth, hand pulling its tie in the opposite direction at the same time, tightening the bandage abruptly. There was a flash of white-hot agony, as the bandages pressed hard against the wound, a lance of fire that raked down his fingers, and shot back down his shoulder and into his stomach.
Sanzo couldn't stop the choked moan of pain that squeezed past his throat.
But it was over. His hand fell, limp from the tie, and he spat out the other one, letting his head fall back with a thud.