When she had left from Boston in the days before, Allison had never anticipated being in this type of situation. Ideally, she should have already been in Portland, getting used to her new apartment, exploring the neighborhood and preparing for her first day at the hospital. Instead, she was on this demented hike where things had quickly gone from bad to worse in less than five minutes. In a strange calmness that overcame her, Allison suddenly realized that Torsten knew something she didn't, that the danger he spoke of wasn't an unlikely scenario, it was actually happening, and he had kept the truth from her. Logically, she doubted that the woods of the Cascades were always populated with more than just bears and she was furious that he hadn't bothered to clue her in on anything.

Currently, there was no time to argue about it, and Allison was unsure if she Torsten would even make it out of the field alive. The men that were advancing toward them, large and hulking with tattoos and menacing looks on their prison-hardened faces, looked determined to capture the poor woman who was running away—what was to say they wouldn't be excited to torture two more people?

She started down the hill, with or without the Finn in tow and ignored the sore ache of her feet as she rushed toward the running woman, closing some of the distance between them. A loud explosion erupted behind her, and Allison didn't have time to look back, but the opposing group was down a convict, his head no longer attached to his body. There was a red mist settling on top of the grass, and yet another convict had taken up a full sprint toward them, but was now aiming for Torsten. She hoped he had enough bullets to handle them all. Now, she was running as well, needing to reach the unnamed Amish woman before anyone else had a chance to grab her again. Her run was slowing, she didn't look good.

Then, another one of the men was put down, his chest blown apart by another one of Torsten's bullets. The last one had a bit of sense about him, and took off toward the tree line, not wanting to get shot. Allison didn't care where he went, as long as he wasn't coming after the Amish woman anymore. She had just reached her after collapsing, and Allison knelt down beside her, horrified and disgusted by what the prisoners had done. It was sadistic and cruel and Allison already knew that she couldn't save her. Even at the best hospitals, with the best doctors, she had already lost too much blood and the field provided nothing, even for the sake of stabilization.

“You're safe now,” Allison told her, brushing back her sweaty, brown hair from her face. She was pretty, innocent-looking and more than likely had lived her life the same way. “They're not going to hurt you anymore.” 

All the woman could do was cry and gasp, mumbling of the pain and all of the blood. Allison reached down and tore a sizable amount of cloth from the hem of the woman's dress, which had originally been a soft, blue color. Gently, but quickly, she wrapped the fabric around the woman's chest, making sure that it was tight. It wouldn't stop the bleeding, nothing would, but it would be slowed some and hopefully make her a little more comfortable. Allison's hands were stained with blood, but the woman reached for her anyway, seeking comfort and there was a lump in her throat that was hard to swallow when Allison could only imagine what kind of torture this woman had endured. 

“What's your name?” she asked softly, squeezing the woman's hand in her own. 

Her breathing was shallow, and the look in her soft, brown eyes looked far away. “Mary,” she said. “Mary.”
Mary licked her lips, dry from the running and heavy breathing. “They came into the church. I was praying...” 

Allison felt her eyes brim with tears, and she knew that if anyone from med school could see her now, they would probably be judging her. No doctor was ever supposed to make an emotional connection with a patient, but this was different. They were out in a field and this woman had done nothing to have such horrors inflicted upon her. “I'm sorry, Mary,” was all Allison could say. “I'm sorry.” 

Behind her, Allison could hear Torsten approaching, and Mary was beginning to slip away. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing became more shallow and rapid and the blood loss was finally catching up to her. Allison continued to hold her hand, wanting to be some sort of comfort and safety for this woman in her final moments. It was hard to tell if this was appreciated, or if Mary even knew what was happening, but it wasn't long before she took her last breath and her hand went limp in Allison's grasp. She checked her pulse, foolishly, knowing that there would be nothing there.

“She's gone,” she told Torsten, gently crossing Mary's arms over her chest. She looked peaceful that way, almost as if she were asleep. Allison wiped her eyes on her sleeve, stifling the urge to break down and cry in the wake of such horror and emotional trauma. 

“You didn't get all of them, did you?”