Brooder - Left Behind

by Brooder

4:30 AM – The next day


            Sandy woke quickly.  She’d been dreaming.  Nothing pleasant either.  She had been watching as people were dying around her, and she could do nothing to help them.  She heard everyone scream as bullet wounds bled freely.  She could smell the burnt flesh from victims of a fire.

            Quickly shaking her head to forget the dreams, Sandy felt her foot kick something at the end of the couch.  She looked down to see a figure curled up, snoring softly.  Sandy figured that it was another member of the hospital staff trying to catch a few winks before the next bad rush came in.  She felt bad for taking the whole couch.

            Sitting up, Sandy was ready to help the person lay further out on the couch.  As she set her feet on the ground, she saw a utility bag sitting there.  A familiar utility bag.  Phillip’s utility bag.

            She quickly moved to the other side of the person so she could see the face.  As she lifted the tattled hair out of the way, she couldn’t suppress the squeal that escaped her lips.  It was Phillip!

            The squeal was a bad thing though.  Phillip jumped up, going into a total defensive position, looking for a threat on his life.

            “Phillip,” Sandy said, settling back from him a bit.  “It’s me, Sandy.  Are you ok?”


Brooder relaxed a little.  He’d been startled awake by a noise.  After his night, he was ready to fight again.  But seeing Sandy drained all the fight out of him.  He sagged back onto the couch.  Sandy rushed to his side.

“Are you ok?” she asked, quickly checking him for wounds.  “Where have you been?  What happened?  I saw you get hit.  Were you shot?”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Brooder said with a raspy voice.  “I got a little side-tracked getting here.  But I had a promise to keep.”

Sandy couldn’t control herself any longer.  She reached down and began to kiss Brooder.  It wasn’t a light kiss.  It was deep and full of passion.  It was a full minute before she was able to stop.  Brooder had a little smirk on his face.

“I guess you missed me?”

“Drekhead!  I was worried sick about you.  What happened?  I saw you get hit, but there aren’t any wounds.  I see blood, but no wounds.”

“It’s a long story,” Brooder replied wearily.  “But I’ll tell you anyway.”


Copyright 2002 - R. James.

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