Chapter 2 Who da Bad Boy who saved Me?

Michelle couldn't move. She couldn't even see clearly - her head was aching and her vision was blurred. But more than any of that, her left arm and somewhere on her waist hurt the most. With her right hand, she navigated to the spot on her waist where it hurt and felt something sharp. She gasped in pain.

"Help..." she cried feebly. She heard a rumble again - it was a car but it was much quieter than the cars from earlier. Michelle tried to move, wishing the car had stopped in an upright position. It was a vain hope, but she had to get out of there before those men found her.

She felt the pain shoot in her arm as she put pressure on it trying to push herself out of the broken window. A black car drove up and stopped and a man got out.

"No..." Michelle gasped. She could barely see who it was but she frantically struggled to get out. The man bent down beside her window and looked in.

"You'll only hurt yourself even more if you do that," a low voice said. Michelle blinked and tried to make out the face of the man - but the faint light from the stars behind him cast a shadow over his face and all she saw was a silhouette. From his voice, she thought he was young.

"Who...?" Michelle began, but gasped as the pain took her breath.

"I won't hurt you." was all the man said. The simplicity of his answer somehow calmed her and Michelle tried to breathe evenly. He reached in and felt her pulse in her neck. Then he unbuckled the seatbelt and slid one hand gently under her knees and the other supported her back.

"Hold your breath." He said softly. Michelle obeyed and he lifted her carefully out of the window, cradling her. She winced at the pain. Once she was out, he laid her on the ground, holding her head in his hand.

He touched the area above her waist. Michelle felt the pain sting under his fingers and tried to look down but her head spun and she moaned.

"Don't move." the man commanded, and suddenly she felt a sharp sting of pain before a fresh trickle of blood issued from her side. He held up a large shard of glass before flinging it away. He placed a cloth of some sort on her wound and told her to hold it there. He cradled her again and lifted her off the ground.

"Where... taking... me..." Michelle asked, her words slurring.

"Shh. You're safe with me. I won't let them get to you." His words were comforting despite the pain. Michelle forced her eyes to focus on her rescuer and finally, she saw his face - he was young, but not young enough to be in college. He had long hair that almost brushed his shoulders; she couldn't make out the color in the darkness. His features were chiseled and sharp and bore a grave expression. She tried to see his eyes as well but he was focused on getting her into his car and did not meet her gaze.

"My bag..." she whimpered. The man laughed quietly.

"You almost got killed and you're worried about your bag?"

"In the... back..." she moaned before slumping back on the seat.

"Fine." He said. Michelle heard his footsteps quieten before growing louder again. She heard a thump in the backseat and knew he had retrieved her bag. He then got into the driver's seat of his own car. He pulled the seatbelt on for her, careful to avoid her wound before driving off into the shadows. The low hum of his car was all Michelle remembered before letting her exhaustion override the pain.

It wasn't until Michelle felt the car descend sharply did her eyes flutter open. Thinking she was falling again, she gasped.

"Where am I? What's happening?" she asked, looking around. The man next to her glanced at her.

"You're safe." He said. Michelle looked forward and saw the car descending a road that tilted downwards like a ramp. In front of her was complete darkness except for the headlights.

"Who are you and where are you taking me?" Michelle asked, trying to ignore the pain in her body. In the reflection of the headlights, she was sure she saw him smile.

"So many questions..." he said in an undertone. The darkness of the cave-like path began to lighten as the car entered a large underground base dimly lit by a few hanging white bulbs. Several cars were parked along one side while some metal tables lined the other. In a corner were a grey L-shaped couch and a mini fridge. A worn red rug carpeted the floor with a square wooden coffee table in the middle. At the end of the garage-like base, as Michelle thought of it, was a set of wide double doors.

The car came to a stop and the man got out. He came around the other side and opened the door. He unbuckled the seatbelt and lifted Michelle out in the same way as earlier.

"Jett, you in?" the man called out. The double doors opened and a tall young man with a long brown ponytail and electric blue glasses came out.

"Holy smokes! What happened to her?" the man named Jett exclaimed as he saw Michelle.

"It was them." The man carrying Michelle replied darkly. Michelle didn't know whether to hiccup or gulp in fear - he sounded so furious.

"Bring her in; I'll see what the damage is," Jett said, placing his hands on his hips. He carried Michelle through the doors into what appeared to be a makeshift infirmary. The man lay Michelle down on the bed that was propped against a wall. Michelle saw his hands were stained with her blood.

"She's tough, this one. Normally a girl would be bawling her lungs out by now." Jett said, pointing to Michelle's wounds. Michelle gritted her teeth to keep from saying exactly how much pain she was in.

"Just get the first-aid kit." The man said impatiently. Jett obeyed, walking off through another door. The man turned to Michelle and studied her from head to toe, his keen blue eyes holding more fire than ice. Michelle gazed back at him, a silent question in her eyes.

"You're gonna be fine, okay? We won't hurt you." the man said. Michelle shook her head.

"That's not what I wanted to know." The man hid a tiny smile.

"What did you want to know?" he asked.

"Your name to begin with." She replied. He stayed silent for a moment.

"Brook." He said. Michelle repeated his name in her head. He began to lift her shirt.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Michelle asked, frowning at him. "You can't just - do that." she pushed his hand away from her shirt. His face darkened.

"You think people bleeding to death usually give paramedics permission to handle them?" he asked in a hard tone. Michelle winced at the way he said 'handle'. She receded, startled by how angry he sounded. She withdrew her hand and let him lift her shirt above her stomach. A cry got stuck in her throat as she felt the wound on her waist sting without the covering from her clothes.

"You can cry if you want." He said. Michelle steeled her expression, determined not to make a sound.

"Pain is not a foreign experience for you, is it?" he half-asked, half-stated. She looked at his face but he didn't seem to expect an answer.

"Are you a paramedic?" she asked.

"No."

"Then how do you know-?"

"I've seen enough blood to learn how to deal with it. Doesn't mean I'm a doctor."

"Then that other guy-" Michelle asked, glancing at the door.

"He knows a bit about wounds and fractures. That's all."

"Why didn't you take me to a hospital?" she asked. His expression hardened into a mask.

"The nearest town is seventeen miles away. And I had to get you to a safe place fast." He said. She thought he sounded cryptic, like he was hiding something.

"Because of those cars that were chasing me? You know about them, don't you?" Michelle asked, eyeing him keenly.

"Because you would've bled to death otherwise," Brook said, staring straight at her. His words sent a shiver through her. Jett came back with the first aid kit and gloves. He put them on as he came near.

"Now let's take a look. Did you calm her down?" Jett asked Brook.

"She doesn't need calming down," Brook replied. Jett smiled affably.

"Tough girl." Brook smiled sarcastically.

"Tough, but stupid enough to drive alone through the desert." He said. Michelle frowned at Brook who stood a little behind Jett as he examined her.

"Nothing broken, couple of bruises, and a cut but it's not deep - no organs torn. Oh wait, there are two cuts - no, three." Michelle looked confused and followed Jett's line of sight. He was staring at her head, arm, and waist.

"I'll have that cleaned up and bandaged in no time." He said, rolling up his sleeves.

"Forget it. I'll deal with it. You go call the others, see if they can salvage the wreck." Brook said, nudging him to one side. Jett looked surprised but held up his hands in acquiescence.

"Okay, if you say so." He went back to the main base, shutting the door after him.

"I can deal with myself," Michelle said, trying to sound rigid. Brook rolled his eyes and began to work on the wound on her waist.

"Don't make it hard on yourself." He said almost teasingly. It was like he was aware of the fact that she was powerless and had to submit to his hands. His cool fingers were gentle as he cleaned the wound and made sure no more glass bits were stuck inside. Michelle hadn't expected him to be so skillful.

"It looks a lot harder for you. If you hate doing this so much, why bother? That Jett guy looked like he didn't mind doing this." Michelle said. Brook suddenly leaned over her, his face hovering over hers. Michelle felt her heart race, afraid of what he might do.

"I never said I hated doing this." He whispered his breath warm on her face. He reached up for her head wound and placed a pad of cotton on it.

"Hold that," he said while he returned to her waist wound. He stuck a large surgical bandage over it.

"I need you to get up," he said. She nodded and he lifted her up. She leaned against the wall while he wrapped the bandage around her. Then he worked on her other wounds in silence.

"Why are you doing this?" Michelle asked finally, breaking the silence.

"You were in a car wreck, you got hurt, I found you, brought you here, and fixed you up." He answered without meeting her eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

"Doesn't matter what you meant." He said brusquely, indicating that the question was closed.

"And how did you find me? There's no one out there for miles. Except for those cars that chased me..." Michelle said, hoping he'd give away something.

"The man at the gas station called. Said a minor was out in the desert alone in a little sedan that won't take more than a bump to get knocked up." Michelle blinked.

"Minor?"

"Yes." Brook scanned her form again. "Minor."

"I'm twenty and in college." She said, sounding offended. Brook gave a little smile.

"You don't look it. All those men would've seen was a young girl driving alone and unprotected. You were the perfect prey for them." Brook's face darkened as he spoke. He closed the first aid kit.

"I'll get you something less bloody to wear." He said, eyeing her clothes.

"I have my own clothes, thanks. It's in my bag." Michelle said.

"Fine, I'll get them for you. Stay here," he said sternly. He went out of the room. Michelle stared after him before turning to her legs. She tried to get off the bed but her legs felt like melted wax. She clung to the bed for support. Her head started to spin again. She wondered how much blood she lost. Brook came back just then and saw her struggling to stand. He frowned and sighed in irritation.

"Can't leave you alone for one minute. What is wrong with you? It's like you crave pain or something." He said, coming and helping her up. He caught her before she could fall and pulled her weight onto himself.

"Why are you in a hurry? It's not like you can go anywhere anytime soon." Brook said. He set her bag on the bed to support her better.

"I just wanted to stand," Michelle said. Truthfully, she felt less vulnerable on her feet than flat on her back.

"You don't get points for trying to be brave. Here - you can change in there." Brook said, pointing to her bag and the bathroom at the end of the room. Michelle felt like he read her feelings; he was too perceptive. She unzipped her bag and took out a tank top.

"Aren't you leaving?" she asked Brook when she turned around and saw him watching her.

"Call me if you need help." He said, hesitating. Michelle frowned.

"I mean if you feel dizzy or something." He added after seeing her expression. He turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Michelle quickly changed and came back to the bed. By then she already felt the effects of her adventure and felt weak. She called Brook.

"Um, I think I need some help." She said, wishing she didn't have to ask. He came and held her from the side, pulling her good arm over his shoulder. He walked her to the couch outside the infirmary.

"I want some answers," Michelle said determinedly. Brook gave her a calculating look before agreeing.

"Fine. But I can't promise I'll answer everything." He went to the fridge and took out several items. He brought them and laid them on the coffee table.

"Here, drink this." He said, opening and giving her a soda can. She took it and sipped it. He took an ice pack and held it against her head.

"You don't have to-" Michelle began.

"You'll have a killer headache without this. Now drink." He commanded. Michelle continued to sip the soda. Brook tore open a chocolate bar and put it in her hand.

"Eat." He said.

"Why exactly are you so interested in making me eat junk food?" Michelle asked. Brook finally met her gaze.

"You just had a near-death experience; doesn't that affect you?" Brook asked with narrow eyes. Michelle thought about it.

"I guess it just hasn't hit me yet."

"Well, it will. And you'll need that." Brook said, gesturing to the chocolate. Michelle ate and then leaned her head back, a wave of tiredness washing over her.

"You should rest," Brook said, noticing how weak she looked. He took the can and chocolate wrapper from her.

"But I have some questions..." Michelle said, her eyes barely able to open.

"They can wait. I won't go anywhere." Brook said in a low voice. He went to the other room and came back with a blanket. He spread it over her and lifted her legs onto the couch to a more comfortable position.

"Hey..." Michelle protested. Brook shook his head in disbelief.

"Still don't trust me?" he asked rhetorically. Michelle glanced up at his face to see him once more.

"Should I?" she asked. His lips straightened in a grim line.

"No."