You Can't Save Her

                                    

                                          
But life had other plans...
At midnight, a crimson pickup truck screeched over the speckled lawn of Tommy A. Peters, rear wheels shredding the earth and whipping debris into the walls of a white-wood cabin. The world fell silent as the red beast sputtered in death, its damages too great for it to continue on. But not for its holders; from the second it ceased time was of the essence. And, if today's terrible luck was proof of anything, they couldn't risk letting it linger any longer.
Slamming the doors shut, Click and Jameson rushed to the back where the white indoraptor laid, terror glooming in the eyes. Their fears only magnified; a blood-like froth was collecting at Seven's maw, spilling across the metal frame of the trunk. Her body was heaving and jerking, too, lungs gagging on the fatal venom oozing out the thorns.
"That's not good."
Click swallowed heavily, then turned to his friend. "Okay, I need you to ease her to the ground and take the thorns out. There's a button in the back of the trunk to help-"
"What are you doing?"
"There's a first aid kit in the house," Click tapped the trunk twice. "I'm going to grab it, I'll be quick!"
"Will that work? She's not-"
"I know what she's not," Click suddenly growled. "And I don't care, just help her!"
"But, Tom-"
He couldn't finish, Click was already limping back toward the cabin. Through a snort, he reared up with his bad leg and kicked the front door wide open with the other. Click fumbled inside with a gasp (he didn't expect to be that strong), fingers clasping to the nearby countertop for assistance. No time. Blinking back into focus, the male hurried past the kitchen and into the first bathroom, frantically swinging the first cabinet open and throwing his hands across any box he could find. Aspirin, Benadryll, Clorox, Ibuprofen -- so many items and drugs for a human to take, but nothing close to what he sought.
"W-Where is it?" Click gasped, throwing ointments and medicine all over the ground. No use. He slammed the mirror-door shut and rushed to another cabinet, fingers fiddling through all he had. Another thirty seconds -- another failed find. Cursing aloud, Click hobbled out the bathroom doors and into his bedroom, falling before his Marine Corps camo backpack and diving in. He threw everything into the air; clothes, gear, gadgets, and more, until his nails clipped into something white; a box with a massive red ' ' on it.
"Oh!"
Click ripped it out of hiding and broke the kit wide open; he hadn't a care of its condition. Both eyes took in its hidden treasures -- scissors, tape, glue, anti-bacterial wipes -- everything was in there.
Almost everything.
He sifted through each tab of gear and medicine, breath growing heavier and needier with time. Just a few seconds in and he was already in fear of never finding it. Until suddenly, the last dive into the emptiness of the rear-pocket uncovered just what he needed: a white bottle of CroFab hidden beneath a silver glove. Antivenom. He didn't know if it'd work on an indoraptor, but it was a start. He shut the broken box to bring, extracting only the bottle (and a needle that bonded to its end), then limped out the closet to the sink in his kitchen. He kept a fully-charged AED there -- defibrillators, just in case. They worked well on humans.
Maybe it could help.
Click stumbled back outside, nearly collapsing into the wall due to his leg injury. The blood was expanding across his jeans, as were his pain, but that didn't matter to him. Click forged on, dropping everything to the ground beside Jameson and Seven, who now had a fair collection of black spikes in his hands, and filtered the utensils by importance.