Realistic or Modern The Last Pale Light In The West

[Isolus]

A raven flit silently across the high beams of the barn rafters, it wings evoking flickering shadows beyond the planks of the old barn walls. Tentatively, its black claws scuttled across the wooden beams in quick little hops as its head tilted this way and that, looking down to the barn floor below. Quite an odd visitor in these times and this black bird would not be the only visitor tonight. Usually, the surrounding wastelands was still and void of its natural inhabitants. The animals that still lingered in these wastes knew well enough when to hide and when to be afraid. And when their next meal might be close at hand. However, the raven would be denied its chance to for a meal tonight. For it would seem that the corpse that was left half buried in mud and old sewage in the dried up ravine was not so dead after all.

The barn was warm at the least, filled up by lantern light and by the faintest scent of wet cedar. Good wood. Old wood. Familiar to the days of things that used to be but are now are no more. Safe. At least, for the moment. And safety was what the shadowy mass wrapped up on the old, dirty cot needed most right now – the stranger’s wrappings were soaked in grit and blood that accumulated from the wound in her chest.

The light from the lantern was blocked briefly by a small figure moving across it’s pale glow, the normally tiny shadow seeming so huge now that it engulfed that stranger on the cot completely. The stranger was breathing. She could see her chest slowly rising and falling, even through the bloody bandages. Another tentative step forward. The glow of the lantern highlighted the round cheeks and beetle black hair of a little girl way. From the safety of the far side of the cot, two dark and curious eyes studied the face of the woman on the cot. What a strange lady. Where did she come from? Was she bad? And how did she come all this way to their barn?

But then there was movement from the bed. The stranger was moving about. The little girl took a step backwards before the sounds of her boots against the floor boards thundered away into the distance. Moments later and the tiny footsteps returned, followed by two pairs of larger footsteps and the soft “click clack” of dog nails against the old floor boards.

“Oh… my god. Oh my god, she’s alive.” A woman’s voice grew closer to the cot, jingling softly as she fumbled with the lantern and raised it over the woman’s head. Her own dirtied face was illuminated now, displaying a woman with cool, tired eyes and with blonde hair that as tied up in a messy bun as several stray hairs cling to the edges of her face. “Hello? Hello? Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now.” She whispered softly, “Can you hear me?”

 

[Meredith]

The woman had made her way into the barn, slowly, crawling. She had one thing on her mind - getting inside.
The soft light of the barn had attracted her, like a moth to the flame that burns its wings, with no regards to the pain it could cause. She was going to die, anyways.

Slipping in the mud, she had opened the door, falling inside on top of herself before managing to climb into a cot. She tried to pull a blanket over herself, stopping, letting out a hiss of pain and letting her hand fall back to her side. She took a deep breath in, coughing up thick blood, wiping her mouth and doing nothing more than spreading dirt across her face.
She lapsed in and out of consciousness, understanding the little girl was a presence, but not being able to care. If they shot her.. well, hopefully they'd kill her. Hopefully.

The woman's face was covered in mud, dirt, and blood. She had clearly blonde hair - stained with blood and filth - that was matted down and knotted. She forced her eyes open, looking at the woman above her, for a moment thinking it was her mother. What- no. No, no, of course not.

"Hey.. maybe I am dead." The woman's voice was hoarse, and she let out a harsh bark, almost a laugh. Her eyes closed - she seemed to struggle with staying conscious - but her eyes refocused on the woman above her. She raised an arm, made another pained noise, and pulled at her neck. After a second, she managed to show what seemed to be a novelty dogtag, crusted with dirt and grime. On it was clearly inscribed Taylor Hayes.

Her eyes closed, staying closed this time, though she was still awake enough. It hurt, and she didn't want to experience the pain, let alone talk during it.

 

[Isolus]

The two silhouetted faces, obscured by the glow of the lantern light, recoiled back - their faces nothing but black shadows for the briefest of moments. The torch light shifted as soft beams between the firm lines of their forms as the larger figure passed it over to the smaller one. "Laila, hold the flashlight." The woman's voice spoke again, her voice clearer now and less like muffled words. "Steady now - don't shine it in er eyes." Once again, the pair's faces came back into focus - it was a woman with the blonde hair and her tulip pink lips, her brown knit as the cooled gaze returned to the woman on the bed.

Beside her was a dark haired little girl, her eyes penetrating like two full moons, her lips set in a firm straight line. Someone slouched in the doorway behind them, though that figure was not so clear to see in the dim darkness of the barn.

"Taylor?" The woman spoke again - her hand on the back of her patient's head, gently pushing the newcomer back so she adjusted her position on the cot, "It's alright. You're not dead. I'm going to help you, ok? Now, you've got to stay still. Easy now. Easy."

With a loud squeak, the barn door behind them slowly closed on it's rusty hinges. "Sam, help me barricade this goddamn door..." Heavy boot steps thudded up to the cot as the shadow in the doorway approached the pair from behind, another face soon revealed in the white glow of the torch. An older man, gruff as if his face were shaped by a rusty chisel - looking as if he had been forever cursed to hold a perpetual scowl. The white light of the flashlight reflected mutely off the dark brown leather of his jacket - an army jacket. The face of the other man was younger, less rough around the edges. Scuffing and scrapping sounded through the hollow barn as the pair of men fortified the entrance. Ensuring that nothing else came in as easily as the wounded woman had.

"She's hurt pretty bad, Dad." The blonde woman whispered, "But it's not a bite. She's not infected."

The old man only grunted in response, his dour gaze not leaving the stranger on the cot as his daughter peeled back the bloodied bandages that surrounded her patient's chest. She exhaled sharply and the child next to her watched with wide eyes. "Sweet Jesus..." The woman's words were soft, stuck in her throat. What on earth happened to this woman? She had never seen so much blood... "Hold still now, Taylor, I've got to change these wrappings and see what the damage is."

 

[Meredith]

The woman let herself be moved, semi-aware of the people around her, feeling very uncomfortable with the whole situation - starting with the gaping hole in her shoulder and the lack of her group of survivors. Her attention drifted to the sounds of the barn, the creaking of the wood in the wind, the whisk of hay underneath the others' feet. She used her right hand to indicate her left side, up towards her shoulder, her hand at rest across her stomach. She felt an intense urge to sit up, but stayed still, letting herself be touched. It wasn't like she had much of a choice.

"It's on fire." Her eyes met the woman's above her, and she almost gave her a grim smile, not quite managing. Her right hand flexed, gripping nothing to deal with the pain, and she glances as far as she could around the room as she heard the door being barricaded. Her mind raced back - back to before the incident, back to when she'd broken her leg, back to the hospital. The beeping machines, the IV, the constant light and noise... the nurses who wouldn't leave her alone after she'd tried to get out of the bed and fallen again.

It wasn't a pleasant memory, but it was somewhere else to put her mind, at least for the time being.