Nothing is softer or more flexible than water, yet nothing can resist it. - Lao Tzu

“Help…*bzzzz* … someone help! *bzzzz*  Can anyone out there hear me? *bzzzzz* My friend, he's hurt.  *bzzzzz* Is there anyone who can hear this? *bzzzzzz* He's  in so much pain and his leg…. *bzzzzzzz* Please someone…..”

The transmission kept going in the background of the trading hub where representatives from each of the major groups in the community were meeting to discuss it.  Kurt kept an ear on the desperate pleas of the man who had been trying to get someone to respond to him for well over an hour now.  Every now and then another voice would pipe in, usually to tell the man on the frequency that it was hopeless or that there was no one else up in this area.

It wasn't that there wasn't, it was just that they first had to come to an agreement as to whether they even would respond.

Paranoia was high.  Even though the man in the transmission was clearly upset, people wondered if it was an act.  A gang perhaps that wanted to get into the community and were trying to lure them into a trap.

“It has to be those guys we saw on those quads yesterday Kurt.” Quinn noted from where she sat beside Noah who had Beth in his lap.  Young Beth, who, tried as they might to get her off to home, always forced her way into these conversations citing that she was the representative of the children in the community. It was questionable on whether or not she was elected into that position or just assumed the role.  Whatever the case, she took it seriously.  Sitting there, stone faced as she listened to the transmission and the adults arguing overhead, Kurt could see the wheels turning in her head.

“It's plausible but it could be another group…” Kurt responded to Quinn.  The group on ATV's could have left the area and some other group could be around.  Nothing he had heard on the transmission had noted how many people were there, or what they were riding, or even what their position was.  The amount of static suggested that they were close or along the circumference of the signal frequency - almost out of range.  If it had been the group on ATV's, and they had continued south from the town, then Kurt could narrow down where the signal was coming from.

“God it's swollen up so much… *bzzzz*... We're almost out of painkillers to give him….*bzzzz*  Can anyone hear me out there? *bzzzz*  Just give it up Blaine! *bzzzz* You have any better ideas Sebastian?! *bzzzz* Is there anyone out there?”

“We can't risk it guys.  What if there's a whole group there ready to attack us and take our stuff?” Santana snipped.  She was one of the ones against responding clearly.

“But what if they do just need help?” Brittany asked of her, doe-eyed.  

“Then they deal with it themselves.  I'm not risking my hide or yours to help some stranger!”

“If the guy is hurt and his leg is swelling, it could be anything from an infection to a break.” Mike noted, having been tuned to the broadcast until that point, writing down notes about what the speaker, Blaine, had been saying about his apparently wounded friend.  “He could need something as simple as a cast, or as difficult as an amputation.  Problem is, even a cast requires him to be brought back here so we can use that x-ray machine we have hooked up.  No way the machinery can travel.”

Rumblings and sighs went around the room.  It wasn't just about going out there now, it was about going out there and bringing some stranger back.

“In a worst case scenario, we need to decide now what we're doing though - because if there is an infection in the blood, he needs medical attention as soon as possible.” Mike added, the chorus of grumblings increasing as a result.

“Let him die then.  I don't want to risk my family to someone stupid enough to get hurt out in the world.” Noah grunted, one of his hands on Quinn's shoulder, the other on Beth's.

“There's already few enough of us humans left in the world and you're talking about letting one more die?  Like they're nothing?” Mercedes retorted.  Hands on her hips, she was clearly in a defensive position.  Mercedes oversaw most of the workers in the community, making shift schedules and deciding on priorities.  She was a bulldog when it came to getting her way and everyone knew not to cross her.  She might have been strict, but she was also generally right.

“What do you think Kurt?” Quinn asked then, looking over to him where he was leaned up against the wall, hands rested on the top of his bow he had standing in front of him with his head balanced on those hands as he listened in to everyone.  

Kurt sighed softly, looking around at the eyes focused on him, and then to the radio receiver, still blaring the voice of Blaine, “I think that I can't make that call but I will support whatever decision is made.”

Some eye-rolls, some gaped mouths, and a lot of evident frustration was the result of that statement and everyone went back to arguing as Kurt again listened in.

In his heart, he knew the right choice, the moral choice, was helping the young man, if indeed he was truly hurt and it wasn't a ploy to steal resources.  That's what his dad would have expected of him, and his mother too for that matter.  They had always opened their doors and their hearts to those in need.  When he was five, they had taken in one of Burt's employees and his family when the bank had taken their home after the wife had gotten ill and couldn't work, leading to them being unable to pay their bills.  For the few months it took that family to get back on their feet, the Hummel house was crowded and incessantly noisy.  Kurt was too young to appreciate why he suddenly had to share a room with the booger-eating son of his dad's employee, and made his complaints known.  He regretted making those complaints as soon as he got older and more attuned to how the world wasn't fair.  He never did get the chance to tell either his mom or dad how that event had educated him more on their values then anything they ever said to him directly.  How much they must have sacrificed of their own income and privacy in order to help another set of human beings.

In his mind, he knew it wasn't such an easy choice though.  There were a lot of people in this community, and if it was a set-up, they were risking more than just resources.  People's lives were at stake.  Some humans had become ruthless in the aftermath of The Tides, living only for themselves at the cost of those around them.  Raping and killing had happened to more than one small group that had joined the community - always from a human gang, and Kurt wasn't about to let anything happen to any of the people he had vowed to protect here.   Even if they were being honest about what was going on in that transmission, they had to consider that it was almost winter and taking in another group would come at a cost, especially if it was that group of twenty riders they had seen yesterday.  That would be a huge drain on their resources.

“Just stop fighting!” Beth abruptly yelled then, pulling Kurt out of his thoughts and silencing everyone else.  Her small body was packed with such a loud voice.  On more than one occasion, Finn had noted she had leadership qualities, and hearing her then, Kurt knew that one of those qualities must be getting everyone's attention.

When everyone was looking at her, Beth started speaking.  “This is stupid.  You should be going to help.  Missus Jones is right.  There's only so many humans left and if you let one die you're all gonna teach me and the other kids that letting other humans die is okay.”

“Beth, sweetie, that's not -” Quinn started and stopped when Beth glowered at her mother, clearly not alright with being interrupted.  They exchanged looks for a moment, ones that Kurt couldn't read and were simply silent communication between mother and child before Beth went on.

“Just take the toughest people to help so if it is a trap they can beat ‘em and only bring the hurt guy back here if it isn't - ‘cause it's not like he'd be able to do much if he's hurt anyhow.  Mister Chang said you don't have a lot of time.  So stop fighting like toddlers and go help people!”

The indignant looking eight year old crossed her arms over her chest, looking around the room and waiting for anyone to challenge her on the matter.  Adults looked between one another silently until Mike finally acknowledged her with a nod which got the other people in the room nodding in agreement.  Noah patted his daughter on the back with a proud smirk covering his face and Santana threw her hands up in the air, bewailing the fact that an eight year old was smarter than any of them, and then they all got to work.

Mercedes went to get a wagon hitched up to horses, while Noah and Quinn argued over which of them would be going since they had long ago agreed that neither of them would go on a mission together lest something happened that would leave Beth an orphan.  Noah won though, since he was a guard and better prepared to fight.  Quinn and Beth kissed him goodbye and left then as well, since it was long past Beth's bedtime anyhow.

Santana and Brittany also said farewell, even though Brittany was going to get some food stores for the wagon and would probably see Santana again before they left.  

Kurt just stood there, quiet as he had been before.  He supposed if he had someone left he cared about deeply, he would be kissing and hugging that person too, but instead he only had himself.  There was nothing for him to do besides wait to go.  He had been hunting with his bow when they called him regarding the broadcast, and there was nothing else he needed.  

He ignored Mike as the doctor-in-training looked at him wordlessly before he went too in order to get the supplies he would need from the medical storage.  Mike always looked like he had something to say to Kurt, some wisdom to give, but he never did say anything, just gave him those looks that make Kurt squirm inside.  Kurt felt like he was being judged each and every time it was done.

When he was alone, Kurt realized that he was the one expected to pick up the walkie and let the man on the other end know help was coming.  They had all left him there to take care of what they needed to get, or to say goodbye to those they loved.  Even Noah and Santana had left to get a few more guards just in case it was a trap.

Leaving his bow balanced against the wall, Kurt walked to the received and looked at it for a moment, listening to the voice on the other end.

“Is anyone there? *bzzzz* Please, someone… anyone…. *bzzzz* He's fallen asleep and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing…. *bzzz*  Someone respond please! *bzzzzzzzz* My friend needs medical assistance…. *bzzzzz* His leg looks horrible…. *bzzzzz* Please, I don't want to lose him….*bzzzzz*”

His heart felt like someone had grabbed it and squeezed it in their hands at that last bit.  I don't want to lose him.  Kurt remembered sitting by his dad, crying out to everyone circled around them when his dad had fallen from the heart attack.  He had cried out that very same line and then whispered it over and over to himself as he looked at his dad on the ground.  Even after the nurse, Carole, had done her best to try and revive him and Burt had gone cold and Carole had been pulled back by her son, Finn, Kurt still whispered it.  After awhile he started to say that he couldn't lose his dad, and then, finally, he said, I can't believe I lost my dad.  

He still couldn't believe it truth be told.

Burt's voice was still in his head all the time, reciting words of wisdom and directing Kurt daily.  Kurt remembered when he was younger, that he would cry when he realized he couldn't remember his mother's voice, and he was worried that when Burt died, he would eventually forget his voice too.  It hadn't happened though.  Burt Hummel's voice was as clear in his mind as it was eight years ago - and thank goodness for it. In the morning his mind dragged up memories of his dad telling him to get up, so he did.  His dad's voice would remind him to eat, so he did.  His dad's voice told him to be good to others… so he tried to.

“I'm scared… the rest of the group… *bzzzzz* they're divided on what to do…. *bzzzzz*  We can't leave him…. *bzzzzz* It hurts him too much to move. *bzzzzz*  Please…. someone answer me….. *bzzzzz*”

Kurt took the walkie in his hand and brought it to his face.  It took a second, and a moment of steadying his breath - he hasn't even realized he was nervous up until he felt his breath shudder - before he clicked the send button.

“Hi.  I hear you.”

The response was immediate.

“Hello!  Hello!  *bzzzz* Oh my gosh! *bzzzz* HELLO! *bzzzzz*”

Kurt rolled his eyes a little.  He could practically hear the man on the other end jump up with excitement at getting a response finally.

“We have someone with medical training in our group.  Can you tell me where you're located?”

“Oh god! *bzzzzz*  Yes of course! *bzzzz*  Please hurry! *bzzzzz* He looks so bad… *bzzzzz*”

Kurt wrote down the coordinates the man on the other end gave him on the notepad Mike had left behind.  He tuned out the rapid succession of ‘thank you's' he got and let the voice on the other end know that they were getting prepared to leave right away.

Even if they rode the whole way at a full gallop, it would still be almost a half a day before they reached them, and the horses wouldn't be able to maintain a full gallop the whole way there anyhow, especially since two of them would be pulling a wagon.

“Listen. We're going to go as fast as we can, but you need to know that we're far enough away that it could take almost a full day before we get there.”

“But…*bzzzz* he's so bad….. *bzzzz*  What if he dies? *bzzz*”

Death was inevitable he always told himself.  Especially in this world where they were stripped of what had been normal access to water until ten years ago.  They had adapted, made due with their new lives on this new Earth, but their lives weren't so much about living as they were about existing now.

But that's not what the man on the other end needed to be told.  

Thankfully Mike came back at that point, his backpack looking like it had been overpacked with the zipper barely holding it together.  In addition, he had another bag he carried at his side, much larger, and also looking completely full.  Kurt held the radio out to Mike, pleading with his eyes to respond.  “He's afraid his friend will die before we get there.”

Mike took the radio in hand and spoke.

“Hi there.  I'm Mike.  I'm a medic.  Can you describe what happened?”

“He hit a bump. *bzzzzz* and fell from the quad *bzzzzzz* and it landed on him. *bzzzzzz* His leg looked flattened at first *bzzzzzz* but now it's all puffy and swollen *bzzzzzz* and he has a fever *bzzzzzzz* and he's in a lot of pain *bzzzzzz*.”

Kurt went back to the wall, taking his bow and slinging it over his arm and back.  So it was the ATV group.  Twenty people they could expect.  The benefit was that Kurt had seen them before so he knew, if they were lying, how many people to be ready for.  He double-checked the number of arrows he had in the pack on his back and smirked.  Twenty one.  Enough left over for a deer to feed them afterwards if they needed.

Mike talked to Blaine for a few minutes, letting him know what he could do to help his friend - apparently named Trent from what Kurt overheard.  Using that overly calm and soft doctor tone Mike had, he managed to calm Blaine down and reassure him that they would be there as soon as possible.   

The neighing of horses and their accompanying trots alerted Kurt to the wagon being pulled up in front of the building.  Leaving Mike to finish the conversation with Blaine, Kurt left the room and nodded to Mercedes as she hopped down from the seat, handing the reins over to Kurt.

“I usually…. ride a horse.” Kurt stammered as he looked at the reins in his hand to the the single rider horses tied up to the back of the wagon.

“And I usually get to bed at a decent hour sunshine.”  She huffed back, walking past Kurt and into the building.

Kurt looked at the reins once more and then back up to the seats.  Mike would no doubt accompany one of the seats and Kurt assumed that one of the other guards would sit with him.  Kurt didn't like having to force conversation, especially knowing that this wouldn't be a short trip and he just knew there was something Mike was itching to say to him.  No.  Kurt was not sharing a seat with anyone for this.

So as soon as Noah and Santana returned with two additional guards, Karofsky and Azimio, Kurt held the reins out the them.  “One of you is riding with the medic.”

They looked between one another and then Karofsky carefully took the reins from a much relieved Kurt, who walked to the back of the wagon and worked on untying the lead from one of the horses at the back.  He had ridden this one before, a black filly that Mercedes had once warned him about.  Apparently she had tantrums when she was tied up, but when Kurt had ridden her, he appreciated how sure-footed she had been and her willingness to gallop ahead with no fear.  He didn't tie her up when he had taken her out, and she had stayed with him despite the freedom he granted her.  This was exactly the kind of horse he needed if he was going into a trap.  One that would rush into any battle they might find themselves in and trust him to take down any enemies from atop her.

However, Kurt didn't know the name of this filly - or any of the horses for that matter.  He usually didn't get the same one too often, so he hadn't bothered to learn their names.  When he had been fifteen, he had once told his dad the names he was considering for his future vehicle.  He didn't need anyone to tell him how ironic it was that he was more inclined to name a car than to remember the name of a living, breathing, horse.

Mercedes came out of the building just as Kurt was pulling himself up on the mare and shot him a look that clearly showed her displeasure when she saw Karofsky up on the front seat of the wagon instead of Kurt.  He pretended not to see it though and walked the filly up beside the wagon while Mercedes shook her head and tossed Mike's bags in the back of the wagon where Azimio had opted to sit.  

Santana and Noah had both claimed single horses for themselves and were mounting them when Mike came out with a portable receiver and walkie talkie.  That too was put into the wagon, though arranged close to the seats so Mike could respond to any calls if necessary.  

“Alright.  Brit packed the cooler full of water and rations for you….”  Mercedes noted and Kurt looked over to note the cooler in the back of the wagon then.  “... everyone has their weapons….” She scanned them over as they nodded, all except Mike who took his oath of ‘Do no harm' quite seriously. “You have your medical equipment and walkie….”  Taking a step back, she nodded at them.  “Well then, go with God.”

Karofsky tugged the lead to the two horses on the wagon and those on single horses did the same, walking them out of the town quietly.  It was late and they didn't want to disrupt anyone more than they already had.  In some windows, people waved, Beth and Quinn among them.  Noah blew them a kiss and offered them a warm, reassuring smile.  Santana was blowing kisses to Brittany who stood outside the dining hall, doing the same back to Santana until the air was so full of blown kisses Kurt was holding back a gag.

They passed by Azimio's pair who told him to take care of himself, and Kitty, who had bonded with Karofsky as a kind of sister.  Kurt didn't get their relationship entirely - other than that they both had a history of being jerks, and now both seemed to regret that.  Kitty had been one of the ones who had suggested that Kurt should cut his ears off nine years ago.  She had also said that maybe if he tanned he might get into heaven when someone finally killed him.

Her teasing had stopped before Karofsky's did.  In fact, she stopped being mean when his dad had died.  She had never apologized though, not openly, but Kurt had the feeling she was behind Karofsky apologizing to him.  

Kitty waved to Karofsky and told him she'd beat him at checkers as soon as he returned.  He laughed in response and assured her that he would be the one winning.  Kurt just rolled his eyes.  They weren't even real brother and sister.  They weren't paired or anything.  He knew Karofsky didn't hang around her for sex, and he definitely wasn't sure what Kitty got out of hanging around with Karofsky.  Really, Kurt didn't want to know what those two got out of one another's company.  

When the community was just a dim light behind them, they brought their pace up to a canter and started off the real trip.  Kurt rode out ahead of the group to scout for them.  It also meant he was more alone, and by being alone, he felt safer.   He would ride out ahead until Noah or Santana came to relieve him.

Since they were going without sleep tonight to get at their destination, they would each take turns sleeping in the back of the wagon.  Kurt wasn't sure how he would sleep in that rickety old thing.  It wasn't like a pioneer's wagon, in fact it had been a trailer back before it had been dismantled and repurposed as a wagon, but it still bounced and shook with every little bump on the ground.  

So instead, Kurt chewed on coffee beans.  They were bitter and pieces often got stuck between his teeth, but they helped keep him alert.  He remembered how the smell of fresh brewed coffee was what he would wake up to growing up.  It was a smell he associated with his parents.  Now brewing coffee was considered a waste of water and generator energy, so people had to make do with chewing coffee beans or sucking on coffee grounds to get their caffeine fix.  Most had just foregone coffee altogether rather than taking it in like he did.  It definitely did not taste the same as a bean compared to when it was in a coffee mug.

A few hours, and a lot of coffee beans later, Kurt let Noah take the lead and dropped back alongside the wagon where Mike was on the walkie talkie.

“Okay Blaine, just keep it propped up then.  That should help with the swelling.”

Kurt listened in, though with Karofsky now snoring in the wagon since he and Azimio had swapped places, that was a little difficult.  Christ, how did anyone who lived near Karofsky sleep at night if that's what he sounded like?

There was a lot less interference now on the frequency since they were moving closer to their destined location, and Blaine's voice was a lot more clear.

“Okay.  He's still sleeping.  Is that alright Mike?”

Now that Kurt could actually hear more voice than static, he noted how modulated Blaine's voice was, if not tight from the apparent stress he was under.  Kurt's mind wandered and he tried to envision what Blaine would look like when they met up.  Would his voice match his body?  Blaine's voice suggested someone with gorgeous wavy hair, big beautiful eyes, and a tall, well built body.  He tried to think if any of the small figures he had seen back in the town with the girls matched his mind's description, but he hadn't seen anyone too clearly, so there was no one to match any voice to.

“Sleeping is alright for now Blaine, but you do need to try and keep him hydrated so wake him up every now and then to drink.”

Kurt could hear some other voices in the background when Blaine next responded, arguing over wasting their water on someone infirmed.

“I ABSOLUTELY will keep him hydrated Mike.” Blaine responded, clearly speaking over the naysayers who were with him.  Kurt smiled to himself at that.  He had to appreciate someone who didn't let jerks get their way.

If this was all a ruse and a trap, it was a very well orchestrated one.  Kurt was beginning to believe, more and more, that this was a legitimate call for help given how desperate Blaine was over the walkie and how he was now talking again with Mike about his fallen comrade.  As he caught himself with that thought though, he immediately tensed back up.  If they, those ATV riders, wanted them off guard, calling in regularly for help and sounding desperate was exactly the kind of thing they might do.  It could still be a trap and those riders could just be very adept with psychology and manipulation.

After a couple more hours, they stopped to stretch their legs, let the horses have a much needed break, and all take a half hour to nap.  Kurt didn't nap around the fire they built, instead wandering off a little ways and sitting up against a broad tree.  He did manage to find sleep, however light, with his hand tight around a dagger hilt.  

Even after all these years, Karofsky and Azimio's presence made him extra edgy.  He didn't want to be caught off guard by those two ever again.  Never again would he suffer a hit from them.  Karofsky might have apologized, but that didn't mean Kurt forgot what he had done and was capable of.  He would never trust them.

Those two had been chief among his tormentors.  They teased him for his voice, being gay, and of course, his damned skin tone and pokey ears.  What had started as simple teasing though progressed.  Out of sight of the adults in the community, they would trip him, shove him into walls, and threaten him.

When Karofsky had stolen a kiss from him after Kurt had tried to confront him though, it just got worse.  It didn't matter that Kurt's dad had died, at least not to those two.  Karofsky didn't want his parents, who he stilled lived with at that time in the community, to find out he was gay and they couldn't expect a grandchild out of him despite the mess the world was in, so Karofsky just got meaner.  He also started drinking more.  Alcoholic drinks they found were put away for celebrations only, but Karofsky had gotten into the storehouse and had steadily been drinking his evenings away.  It wasn't until he had beaten Kurt on one particular drunken rampage that anyone had noticed how much alcohol had gone missing.

After that was when Kurt took it upon himself to toughen up.  His physical injuries hadn't been too bad - mostly bruising and bumps, but the emotional fall out haunted him for months.  He slept with a dagger in each hand when he did sleep.  He had moved away from the community to his self constructed hut home.  Even when Karofsky sobered up, came out to his parents, moved in with Kitty, and tearfully apologized to Kurt, Kurt's heart rate still stayed fixed at a faster than average pulse.  When Karofsky had convinced the other jerks to stop picking on Kurt, Kurt couldn't forgive him.   Karofsky didn't deserve his forgiveness.

Kurt didn't need anyone to come and wake him.  Even though he managed to doze off, it was a light sleep and he woke himself when he felt he had been out of it for long enough.  The taste of sleep made him hungry for more, but they needed to keep going.  Using water from one of his water bottles, he washed his face to help him wake up and then went to rouse the others.  

Santana, Noah, and Mike got gentle shoulder pats to wake them up, while Kurt just stood away from Azimio and Karofsky and snapped their names to wake them up.  Everyone was groggy.  Mike was the next to lay in the back of the wagon for a nap, seeing as how they needed him to be alert and on top of things when they got to their destination.  Santana took the lead.

Every now and then, Noah would try and engage Kurt in conversation.  Talking about Quinn, Beth, or what Kurt thought about the situation they were riding into.  Between his bleariness and lack of desire to talk, Kurt's responses were one word until Noah finally got the message and rode up beside the wagon so he could converse with Karofsky and Azimio instead.

Noah was a nice enough guy, at least now, but he wasn't innocent of wrongdoing against Kurt either.  He had shaped up well enough when he had knocked up Quinn, and Beth came along.  In fact, he was a model father who clearly loved his daughter and would do anything for her.  However, prior to Quinn and Beth, Noah had partaken in Karofsky and Azimio's rampage against Kurt.  He was another one who hadn't apologized to Kurt, even though Noah had only verbally harassed Kurt and hadn't gone father, and despite all the progress he had made, Kurt wasn't totally comfortable around him either.

Quinn was another matter.  He did trust Quinn, though he would never say so aloud.  He also felt bad for her.  She hadn't meant to get pregnant with Noah, having been dating someone else at the time it happened.  It caused her to be rejected by her father and the birth was so hard on her system that, without modern medicine, she ended up infertile from the scarring.  Beth would forever be an only child despite both Quinn and Noah wanting more.  Quinn's dad still didn't speak to her, despite them all being in the community together.  His rejection of his daughter and granddaughter had caused him to split with Quinn's mother and then take up residence with a much younger woman.  

As the sun peered over the horizon, the walkie talkie started crackling again with Blaine on the other end, asking if Mike was there.  Mike grumbled and rolled away from the noise, having somehow fallen asleep in the jostling trailer and it was clearly a deep sleep by the way he managed to sleep through the static buzzing beside him.

Karofsky and Azimio cast glances to one another and then over to Noah, silent asking him if they should answer, or wake Mike.  In turn, Noah looked back to Kurt.

Kurt sighed and rode his filly up alongside the wagon, sliding his feet over to one side of the mare and then hopping into the wagon in the small amount of space left there.  He tied the lead he still had in his hand up to the back corner of the wagon and then went over to the walkie talkie, picking it up and hitting send.

“Blaine.  Mike is asleep.  We're still on the way.”

“Oh…. you again.  I don't know your name.  Sorry.”

That's because I didn't tell you, Kurt thought to himself with a roll of his eyes.

“It's just that, Trent is awake and in a lot of pain and we don't have anymore IB profen or anything to give him.”

Kurt looked over at Mike, sleeping so soundly.  If Trent did need a lot of medical help, it was better to have Mike well rested for it.  He sighed to himself and pressed the send button again.

“We're letting Mike sleep so he can be alert for your friend when we get there.  Are you keeping your friend hydrated?”

“Yes… I mean… I've had to give him my water stores and his own.  A few of the others have given up some of theirs too, but others won't and we're running low on that too….”

“So he's staying hydrated?”

“Yes.  Yes.  I'm doing the best I can to get him to drink.”

“Good.  If you're out of drugs, there are a few things you can look for that might help a bit with pain.”

“Okay, okay… I'm listening.  I'll try anything to help him.”

“Alright… peppermint, stinging nettles, ginger… do you have any of those?”

“Uh… I think I have some peppermint gum…. would that work?”

Kurt refrained from groaning and smacking his hand to his face in annoyance.  Was the person on the other end a man or a boy?

“No.  It won't.  That's just flavoured stuff.  It's not the same.  What kind of medical supplies are you carrying with you?”

“Just like… bandages and hydrogen peroxide…. we don't carry that much.”

“And you've never thought you might have to deal with something worse than a papercut?” Kurt grumbled back, voice thickly laced with irritation at the thought of a group so ill prepared.  How the hell had they survived the past ten years?

“Well… we have places we visit that have all that stuff… uhm… I mean….”

Kurt sighed, “Never mind.  Look.  He's just going to have to be in pain until Mike can look at him and that's that.”

“But…”

“Just be happy he's still alive and Mike will get to help him.” Kurt snapped.

“Oh…. okay. Thanks… I'll let you go then.”

The static cleared and Kurt mumbled to himself in irritation at the apparent idiocy of the person on the other end of that line.  You needed to be prepared in this world.  There was no but's about it.  And his friend would at least get medical help eventually.  It wasn't like he was going to die while everyone around watched helplessly.  Not like Burt had.

Kurt noticed, but ignored the looks he was getting from Noah as he untied the lead again for his mare and pulled her up alongside the wagon so he could climb back on her and get out of the damned trailer he was in.  He was being harsh.  He didn't need anyone to tell him that.  Not with those less than subtle looks Noah was giving him or his dad's voice nagging him in the back of his mind, telling him that the man on the other end of the frequency was no different than Kurt was when he was pleading for someone to help Burt eight years ago.

Shit.  He felt guilty.

He nudged the side of the filly with his ankles and got her into a full gallop, overtaking the wagon and riding up ahead until he met up with Santana, telling her sternly that he was taking the lead.  It was earlier than necessary, but between his stoic, stone face and her own attempts to keep her eyes open, she acquised and fell back, leaving him alone.  

Then he was able to breath a sigh of relief.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he caught the irony.  He didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts when he was sick but he was more comfortable being alone with himself than with others.  

Really, Kurt just knew he wasn't comfortable anywhere in this world.  He might have a hard time accepting it, but he knew it was the truth about his situation.  

The trek dragged on after that.  He ignored Noah when Noah had ridden up declaring that it was his turn to take the lead and that Kurt needed his turn at napping and eventually Noah grumbled that Kurt was a “stubborn ass” and fell back to the wagon.  Santana got the same treatment when she had ridden up not long afterwards, but she was far more vocal about his “inability to be reasonable” and the need for him to “get his head out of his ass” before falling back as well.  The sun was hanging right above him when Kurt did drop back to the wagon, where Mike was on the walkie talkie telling Blaine they weren't far off and kindly suggesting that whomever was in the group with Blaine meet them without any weapons to avoid any misunderstandings.

Thank goodness for Mike.  Kurt's own tactic would have been far less diplomatic - something to the effect of “if you greet us with weapons in your hands, we'll cut you from head to toe in a minute”, which probably would have gotten them all into trouble regardless of their intent to bring a medic in to help someone out.  

Everyone was doing their best to bring themselves to a state of alertness as they got nearer to the coordinates they had been given - chewing on coffee beans, or drinking their water.  Noah even gave his face a few good smacks to snap him into full consciousness.  Kurt was ready though.  He had his bow in one hand, the reins in the other.  His eyes were locked ahead, scanning for any signs of movement or threats.  He would not be caught off guard.

In the back of the wagon, Mike was looking over a map and noting that if they took a different route on the way back, they could take old roads and reduce the bumpiness of the ride.  It would take them longer to return, but would be better for the patient.  Old roads were generally avoided by people in the community.  Horses allowed them to get to and from their destinations without worrying about detouring on roads that might have biker gangs on them.  Besides that, the roads had not aged well without maintenance - cracks and potholes more than regularly marring the smoothness, though they were still considerably less rough than going through the wilderness.

Of course, taking a different route back would only be relevant if they weren't walking into a trap.  

Santana had rode up ahead as Kurt fell back and an hour after she had made her way up there, she whistled back to let them know she had spotted something ahead.  Noah and Kurt brought their horses up to a gallop to meet her while Karofsky slowed the wagon's horses to a walk.

Kurt plucked an arrow from his pack, just in case, and readied it with his bow in one hand so he could quickly shoot something… or someone, if necessary.

When they reached Santana, they had already advanced quite a bit on what she had seen to alert them to.  Two bodies were waving at them in the distance, one was jumping up and down just in case the waving wasn't already attracting enough attention.  They didn't appear to have any weapons on them, at least not ones that were out in the open, and a glance around told Kurt they were the only ones there, probably sent out to meet them since they weren't quite at the destination coordinates yet.

Regardless, Kurt kept his bow in his hand as they rode up to the pair.  Both were men, around Kurt's age.  One had straight dark brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, while the other had a shock of blonde hair that was obviously trimmed by someone who couldn't cut straight.  The former was thick, not fat, but just broad, while the latter was thin and lanky.  They were both beaming at the group coming towards them, and the blonde one even ran up and yelled towards them.

“You're here!  You're really here!  You've come to help Trent!  He's going to be alright!”

Noah, Santana, and Kurt all shared a look which included arched eyebrows and a shared sense of disbelief.  If this was a trap, they were clearly not worried about these two being hurt because they were making themselves easy targets.

Noah slid off his horse, letting Santana and Kurt remain on theirs just in case things went sour.  He nodded to the blonde man-child and introduced himself, letting the pair know that the wagon with the medic would come up as soon as they had ensured this was not a trap.

“It's not!  It's really not!” The blonde man-child stammered, silenced then by a hand on his shoulder from his companion who spoke.

“Jeff's right.  This isn't a trap.  Our friend really is hurt.  We don't have any of our weapons on us like Blaine was told.  Please help Trent.  Please.”

Noah gave him a short nod, “Fine.  Take us there and if everything looks good, we'll signal for our medic to come.”

The pair before them nodded rapidly and ran ahead of them.  Noah led his horse by its lead while Santana and Kurt stayed atop theirs as they ventured forward.  After fifteen minutes of being led by the pair, they found themselves in a shallow plain where ATV's circled around a group of young men.  All at once, they were looked upon by these men with a blend of curiosity and wariness.  Yet no one was visibly armed and when they saw, at the center of the circle, a makeshift bed with a whimpering man whose leg was elevated on a bundle of clothing, they knew this was not a trap.

Santana lifted her short range walkie talkie and sent a message to the wagon to advance while Kurt slid off his horse and walked with Noah to the felled man.  The crowd of men parted as they walked through to assess the damage prior to Mike arriving.  It was eerily silent except for their footfalls and the cries of the man ahead of them, and as they moved forward, another man, kneeling by the wounded one looked up at Kurt and Noah.

“Oh god.  You're here.  Thank goodness.”

It was the same voice that had come through over the broadcast, and yet, this man in front of him couldn't have looked more different than Kurt had imagined him to be.  Big doey hazel eyes, a mop of curly black hair that seemed to bounce on his head with every slight movement, and a small frame.  Whiskers grew over his chin and cheeks, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth in nervousness as they got closer.  

“Our medic is behind us and will be here soon.” Noah assured the man, Blaine, as he knelt down to look over Trent, who appeared to be completely unaware of their presence as he muttered incoherently.

“He's… he's… his fever is bad and he's talking about things that don't make any sense.”  Blaine uttered, looking back down to his friend and notably swallowing a lump in his throat.

“He's hallucinating.” Kurt noted from where he stood.  He had to wonder, in this group of twenty, was there really no one who had any medical knowledge whatsoever that they couldn't figure that one out on their own?

Blaine's ears seemed to perk a little when Kurt spoke and he looked up with tears wetting his obnoxiously long lashes.  “You.  You're the one who picked up.  Thank you.  God… thank you so much.”