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Just keep going forward.
That was what 4c repeated to himself over and over, both out loud and in his head.
They just had to keep going. The forest couldn't go forever, and neither could the police officers.
He was walking through a sparse forest, pine needles crunching under his boots. His younger brother matched his steps beside him, clinging onto his hand.
The first couple of days, they'd talked. About everything and nothing. Just to fill the silence of the woods.
Now they were both too tired to speak.
His ripped jeans were covered in dirt and tree sap, and the ragged blanket tied around his shoulders was more gray then blue now. He knew his face probably didn't look much better. It was rare to find a stream, and neither of them ever wanted to stop long. In case they caught up.
The sun was visible through the branches above, nearing it's zenith. The few rays that filtered down to the forest floor sent streaks of light illuminating the tree roots.
The two boys had been desperate, barely noticing where they were running, on that first night. They'd regretted it when they woke from a fitful sleep among the trees to find themselves in the middle of a pine forest.
His brother had suggested that they learn to forage, and just live in the woods. But as it turns out, where wasn't really anything to scavenge. Any wildlife was skittish and impossible to catch, and all the trees were just bare trunks for many metres, the only actual branches far out of reach.
They'd been surviving off the food that 4c had slipped into his pocket before their escape, and the occasional fish or watercress from a river. To put it bluntly, they were screwed if they didn't stumble into civilization soon.
His only condolence was that they weren't in that awful place anymore. He'd rather starve to death under the pines than return there. He had to at least try to survive, though. Keep going forward, for his brother.
His brother stumbled on a twig, and 4c slowed to let his catch his balance.
“I feel so tired.” He said in a quiet voice.
4c could only nod. His throat was dry, making his voice hoarse and sore when he spoke. He wasn't ever good at comforting people, but then again, he was never good at much else either.
“I know. Me too. Just a few more hours and then we'll stop to sleep, okay?”
“Okay.” His brother squeezed his hand and let 4c pull him along again, his footsteps slightly slower. 4c didn't have the heart to tell him to speed up, so he just bit the inside of his dry cheek and continued.
Just a bit further.
~~
When 4c woke up the next morning to see his brother shivering, his heart dropped into his stomach.
It was mid-spring, and the pine forest tended to be warm, even hot at noon sometimes.
They'd set up “camp” between the roots of a particularly large tree, where they'd spread out their thin and dirty blanket and curled up together. His brother had stolen most of the blanket in the night, as usual, which 4c wasn't worried about. What he was worried about, however, was the warmth radiating off the younger boys skin when he checked his forehead.
A fever.
Suddenly the stakes had gone from not only finding civilization before they died of hunger, thirst, or fatigue, to a deadly race to get medicine.
4c had nothing that could possibly help him. No medicine, no first aid supplies, not even any water.
There was no way that his brother would be walking in his condition either. So 4c was left bending down to let him clamber weakly onto his back, so that 4c could piggyback him. He'd draped the blanket around him too.
Please. If anyone or anything out there is listening, let me save him.
He found himself calling out in his head to somebody who could possibly help him. He'd never been religious, but he was desperate.
I'll- I'll do anything. I'd rather me than him. He has so much to live for… please.
There was no response, not even a gust of wind or a calming feeling to suggest that he'd been heard. It was nothing less than he expected, but he could still feel his last threads of hope crumbling into dust.
What were the chances of finding a city before one or both of them died?
He had a feeling that it was depressingly low. For all he knew, they'd been walking in the complete wrong direction.
His brother, though light, had slowed his pace down to practically a snails crawl. He had to stop to step over the smallest of branches and readjust his grip constantly. His breath came in short puffs, perspiration weaving a line through the grime on his cheek. He'd have to stop double as much as usual.
His brother was dead silent, the only sound coming from him was his own panting breaths. 4c suspected that when they stopped to rest he'd find that the back of his brown shirt would be soaked with his brothers sweat.
4c paused to to fix his grip under his brother's legs, and he let out a weak groan.
“Please… could we stop? … I'm so tired.”
The weakness in his voice scared the shit out of the blue-haired boy, but he cleared the shake out his voice before replying.
“Of course. Let's sit down.”
He carefully lowered them both to the ground, keeping the blanket around his brother's shoulders.
He was still shivering, dirty clothes and hair stuck to his skin. His blue-grey eyes were barely open. It didn't look like he was processing anything in front of him, gaze fixed blankly down at the forest floor.
Maybe I should try putting some mud on him? Would that help?
Would anything help at this point?
~~
When 4c first saw the first flash of gray through the trees, he was sure the lack of water had finally gotten to him.
The second time, he had a little more hope. The unmistakable wall of a warehouse building came into view, with the shapes of more in the distance.
Please be more than just a few abandoned shacks. Please be an actual town.
He wasn't sure if his brother was awake anymore, his breathing had deepened a fraction and his head was lolling against 4c’s back. He decided against waking him, but sped up the pace.
The first building had a caved in roof and plants growing through the cracked windows. The second one was covered in ivy, with crumbling mortar.
The third was intact.
The further he walked, the more his hope grew. There was an asphalt road up ahead, the scattering of warehouses taking the shape of a road that continued as far as he could see.
It was a town.
4c could've cried in relief. He might've too. Just maybe.
He was going to be able to find medicine. As soon as he came across proper houses, he'd knock and beg them to care for his brother.
His legs felt weak and shaky, his arms sore from the effort of holding up his sick brother, but in that moment he felt like he could run. It’d payed off. He’d be able to get help, food and water, take a breather to figure out what to do next.
That was when he heard the first growl.
He spun, as fast as he was able, and felt his already parched throat go completely dry. There was a great shaggy brown dog, in the shadows between two warehouses, its yellow eyes gleaming. Its teeth bared.
4c’s mind was completely blank with fear. He didn’t know what to do? Back away? Stay still? The dog’s gaze was fixed on his own, unblinking.
It growled again.
His brother shifted on his back, and let out a groan. “What… what’s that noise?”
4c’s heart constricted. He had to make a choice. The dog was inching closer, belly low to the ground.
He ran for it.
There was a deep booming bark, and the sound of claws scraping against concrete.
He knew that even with his sudden boost of adrenaline, there was no chance of being fast enough to outrun them, not with a sick child on his back and no food in his stomach.
His footsteps pounded against the cracked pavement, his eyes scanned the building as he dashed past. They all had heavy, metal doors, or garage type sliding ones. Nothing he could pull open in an instant and sprint into.
There was a shout ahead of him, and his blurred vision focused on the outline of a figure waving desperately to them from a side alley. He pushed himself to run faster, and skidded into the alley, feeling the dog right at his heel. It didn’t manage to turn as fast as him, and he had a second to assess his surroundings.
A boy around his age, maybe a year or so older, was running further down the alley, he turned to wave 4c towards him, before rounding a corner at the end that wasn’t visible from 4c’s view. He ran down to the end as he heard that dog growl from the mouth of the passage.
His brother was quiet and frozen on his back, plastered against him, shaky breaths tickling the dirty hair that brushed around 4c’s ear.
“Come on!” The boy slowed to double back to the two of them and hurried them on. He had glasses crooked on his nose from the sprint, and wavy brown hair that fell over his forehead.
There was a tall wooden gate that seemed to lead into an abandoned lot between the warehouse buildings at the end of the path, the other boy was already halfway there, reaching forward to pull open the handle and let them in.
There was another loud bark, and something heavy collided with 4c’s back, tipping him forward onto the ground. He threw his hands out in a desperate attempt to stop the fall, scraping his palms and cheek. His brother screamed.
There was an awful tearing sound and he scrambled to his hands and knees, his brother deadweight on his back, no longer holding on.
God, no.
He couldn’t bear to turn around and check on him. He could feel his brother’s chest still rising and falling. He was alive. That’s all that mattered. He kicked out with one leg and felt it connect with fur and flesh. There was a whimper, and that was all he needed to push himself back onto his feet, torn and dirty hands wrapping around his brother's middle and holding him on.
The boy ahead was deathly pale, but had the gate open. 4c limped towards it, just managing to get through the gate and have it slammed it shut behind him before there was the sound of a canine body hitting the other side of the wood.
He slid back to the ground, gently releasing his brother and allowing him to slide onto the overgrown grass.
His eyes were half closed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. When he slumped forward, 4c felt his heart drop out of his body. His back was covered in blood. 4c could just make out the shape of long deep gouges. His ripped grey t-shirt was already soaked in red, which clung to his skin.
“Oh God.”
His body had frozen, but he forced it into action.
C’mon, think. You have to do something!
He pulled the blue blanket off of his brother’s shoulder and wrapped it around his middle, chest constricting with terror as the blanket quickly darkened with more of that horrible blood that wouldn’t stop.
The boy dropped to his other side.
“Oh- oh my god! Here- um- fuck- I’m calling an ambulance. Just- just get him to hang on, okay?”
He pulled his phone from the pocket in his jumper, dialling the police line with trembling hands.
“God, okay. Okay. Hey- hey, do you hear me? You hear this buddy? You just gotta hang on. Just a little longer, and the- the ambulance will be here. Just hold on- God.”
He pressed the blanket as tightly on the wound as he dared.
Keep pressure on the wound. I just have to stop the blood loss. I just- I just need to do this and he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay he’ll be okay he’ll be okay he’ll-
“Hey, the ambulance is on its way, okay? They’ll be here really soon.”
The brown haired boy put his hand on 4c’s shoulder and his gaze flickered over to the boy.
“Holy shit. I- can- can you hear me? Help is coming, like right now. Just a little longer, and it’ll all feel better.”
4c’s brother let out a cough from where he was lying on his front on the grass, legs bent at awkward angles and arms trapped underneath him. A splatter of blood hit the grass.
That’s not good. That can’t be good that that that’s that’s a bad sign oh God oh God help me please help me not him not him anyone but him God please take me instead please-
The other boy made eye contact with 4c, a kind of horrified understanding passing through them.
No no nonononononono
He had to make it. He had to.
“4c?”
His voice was so quiet and weak.
“4c- I-” He coughed again “I don’t want to die, 4c. I don’t- I don’t want to die. Please.”
“I know, I know.”
4c’s breath was coming in choked sobs, and his eyes kept blurring. He desperately wiped them away with hands stained in him and his brother's blood.
“I know, you’re going to be okay. It’s- its alright. You’re going to be okay. I swear- I- you’re going to make it. Just stay with me a little- little bit longer.”
“I’m… sorry, 4c.”
“No no no, I’m the one who’s sorry. This is my fault all my fault I’m so sorry but- but you’re going to be okay! It’s all going to be okay!”
“I’m- sor… sorry…”
His half closed eyes looked up into 4c’s from where he was leaning over him, tears dropping onto his forehead. They crinkled at the edges with a small smile, before glassing over.
No.
He let out a sob, cradling his brother’s broken and bleeding body closer to him. He looked so small and weak. So still.
There was a shuddering exhale from somewhere next to him as the boy let out a small cry.
4c’s brain refused to process it, process anything. The ambulance was on its way. He’d- he’d be able to save him. They’d gone through so much. They’d stuck together through all the foster homes and their escape and through the long days in the forest, slowly starving and dying but at least they were free. They’d made it, too. They’d make it to a new town. They were going to get help.
And now
And now…
There was the sound of a far-away siren. Too far. Too late.
He barely even registered the choked whines and keens as his own voice as he finally allowed his eyes to blur over, the browns and reds and blues that were his brother turning into nothing but blobs of colour. He could feel nothing. He could feel everything. He was anguish and grief and disbelief and horror and pain and terror and guilt.
His brother was gone.
And it was his fault.
~~
Three weeks later
~~
“Dad signed the adoption papers, and he bought some things while he was out, too. Just the basics, um, like toiletries and some clothes… he got food for dinner too, I think he’s making chicken wraps. He said that you- you, um, need some nutrition. He said a lot of things. I wasn’t- wasn’t really listening.”
4c was sitting on Nom’s bed. He’d lost feeling in his body again. He knew that the duvet was probably soft, and the mattress was probably comfy, but it was all the same to him.
He looked up at Nom as he came into his field of view, before sitting down next to him, shoulder lightly brushing his, offering comfort if 4c wanted it.
The part of his brain, a very distant, foggy part, knew to be incredibly grateful for the boy beside him, and his dad. They’d been very accommodating to him those first few days after, after…
When he’d started talking again, albeit only rarely, and he found the strength to explain the barest details on who he was and where he was from, they’d gone about figuring out adoption procedures almost immediately.
He looked down at his lap, gaze focusing on the Rubix cube lying on top of the blanket. It was half solved. Had he done that?
“Um. Thanks.”
He should say more. He didn’t.
Nom just nodded. His slender fingers fidgeted with the hem of the blanket before he cleared his throat.
“Hey- 4c. Have you ever played Pokemon?”
4c looked up at him, surprise flickering deep in his chest. “Uh… yeah. Long time ago.”
“I have a switch, if you, maybe, wanted to play?”
“Oh.” He thought about it. He’d never had a switch before, but once, a girl at his old school had brought an old DS to school and let him have a turn.
“Yeah. Sure.”
He was handed the switch. It was covered in stickers, and the buttons were well worn down. It looked well loved.
As he silently opened up Pokemon, his mind drifted to thinking about this family that’d taken him in. They were far from perfect, he’d noticed the way Nom always seemed to dance around certain subjects, and how that room that he was given still had a colourful rug on the carpet and drawings etched into the closet door.
But despite all that, the two of them had let him into their lives: this small, traumatized runaway who couldn’t even find the words to thank them. But he would try. As long as he continued to have this second chance at a home, he’d keep on trying to be better, braver.
If only he could’ve started earlier. Maybe that was the deciding factor that resulted in the death of his brother.