If he had had a gun, the other man would have been as good as dead. Waylon panicked when the other man showed up at the door of the tent, though it was just a simple flinch before he fell back in the chair breathing hard. His eyes had closed and when they opened the man was gone. Was it just a trick his mind was playing with him? It wasn't funny in the least. The man sighed and pushed himself from the chair catching the edge of the table as he did. Again his vision blurred when the wound was rubbed Sebring a wave of blistering pain up his side. He needed to do something about it, he couldn't just leave it open, there was no telling what all could happen. Waylon looked around the tent yet found nothing other than another shirt. The fabric ripped easier than he thought it would, and within minutes he had a crudely bandaged waist. He again flinched when the other man come back and spoke though he was gone nearly as soon as he had showed up. Maybe he was just going to find something else...maybe he wouldn't leave for good. Waylon was tempted to follow him, though he had been told not to. He panted as he sat back down a hand still on his side in a sad attempt to keep the wound covered. Already the bandage was starting to bleed through though it was not all blood. He needed to get medical attention and quickly if he wanted to live.

Otis gasped and he picket up a bucket that caught rain drops then took a palm full and splashed it on the searing wound. he catches his breath then checks, closed. he checks the other one. it didn't hurt as much and the stitches would do fine. he tore a piece of cloth from a pillow and wrapped it around and took out his canteen and poured the rain water in it, he closed it and put it in his pocket. he looks out and see's the man. with a torn shirt bandage and he pokes his shoulder to get his attention

Again if he had had a gun the man would be dead. Waylon flinched at the tap on the shoulder and looked up. "I'm glade to see you again." He said with a small smile. "You fixed your neck up, you were shot too?" He asked the man. Again he pushed himself to his feet hurting himself as he did. Fist pounded on the nearest table as his side again seemed to be on fire.

Otis drooped his ears and nodded then saw the wound. 'dear god' he thought then ran to the tent and gathered the supplies and syringe. he ran back then took out the morphine and looked at the state of the wound. Otis put his hand on his head then his chest and shoulders as in the holy cross for God's mercy. he takes the syringe and puts it in the morphine, then looks at the man and hands him the syringe and says with a little raspy voice "i can't watch this... i be outside" he says then walks outside and sits near the entrance and covered his ears, waiting to hear screams

Was it really that bad? Waylon looked down at the syringe in his hand then looked up to find the other man had left him alone. With a deep breath the man stabbed the needle into the wound, hitting the table again as he did. The morphine would help with the pain, maybe that he could dig in the wound and get the bullet out. "Alright, I'm done." He said taking a deep breath. "You can come back now."

The sun was bright, it burned to look at it. Omid lefted a hand to shield himself from the blinding light. Where was he? This wasn't his camp was it? He turned his head gazing at the bodies as they lay scattered about. This couldn't be happening, had-had they left him for dead? He struggled to sit up yet find that when he tried that nothing below his middle seemed to respond. "Wh-what?" He asked propping himself up. Omid tried to move his legs yet nothing happened. They lay still just as they had before. "No, oh god no." He said tears stinging at his eyes. "Don't let this be how I die..."

"ok, but i seen worse...once saw a dude that was drunk and he fell of a cliff, split his head open" he says then enters and sits down. "who are you?" he asked with one of his ears flopped to one side

"Waylon, Waylon Park." He said sitting again, wincing some as he tried to ease himself down. "And you are? If you don't mind me asking." The man coughed a bit. "Lord.." He cursed as his side lit up again.

He could hear voices, maybe they could help! Omid cried out as he tried to roll himself over on to his stomach, (modifiing his wound a bit so that he can feel his legs yet still no be able to walk on his own) the bone of his calf making it nearly impossible to move. He fell back down panting before he looked up at his legs. By the way it looked one could say he had been ran over, maybe that's how he got knocked out. No that had come before when the enemy soldier hit him in the back of the head. Then he got ran over. The bone of his left calf was jutting out of an open wound on his leg causing Omid to turn away gagging. The other leg was broken at the knee cap, being twisted and mangled as well.

"Otis Wolfe" Otis introduces then hears cries and perks his ears up and looks up. "try the disinfection" he says then walks out and looks at the battle field. he see's someone, alive. he walks over and looks at the army signature, Otis looks at his legs and see's then injured like heck. he stretches his hand out to the man to see if he wanted Otis to help

But he already had a bandaged on... Waylon sighed and took the bandaged puff before pouring a bit of the rubbing alcohol into his injury. It stung like crazy, must have ment it was working. The man beat on the table again before collapsing in to the chair behind him.

Footsteps approached, causing Omid to get hopeful. He sat up looking up at the man that wished to help. "Oh thank god! I-I thought everyone had left." He breathed a labored sigh of relief. "I don't think I can stand though." Omid said refusing the hand. "Both of my legs are broken. Some sick joke if you ask me."

Otis tough of an idea then ran back to camp and look in a few tents and just perfect luck! a wheelchair, he pushed it out and went back to the field where Omid was. he put it near him and said "will this help?" he asked