Precious Metals

Jamia and I were forced to wait until the other squads had arrived. I leaned against the railing, peering out into the vast, smoky landscape. "Is this really necessary?" I grumbled, kicking a sheet of metal down into the black abyss. It echoed with a hollow thud.
Jamia sat on the floor next to me, loading up her gun and cleaning off the blood with a cracked hand-held mirror. She scrubbed at a patch on her cheek irritatedly. "Yes, it is."
I sighed, resting my head against the cold metal. My stomach was churning, like I was going to hurl any second.
"Hey! The recovery team is here!" Jamia squeeled, jumping up to meet them. Her boots flopped loudly with each step, sending hammering pain through my ears. I felt wrecked.
Twelve charismatic looking men were filing their way up a ladder to meet us, a few carrying medical packs. Thank god... A sharp pain ran through my side as I stood straighter. The blood on my side was still a bright, sticky red. One carrying a med pack spotted me, eyes widening.
"Need some help?" The brown hair boy asked, eyes darting from my face to the hole in my side.
I scowled, crossing my arms. "Yes, I do. Thanks for the concern."
He yanked my arms apart, guiding me to sit on a little pile of scraps before unzipping the neon red bag and pulling out an array of supplies. "Mind taking off your shirt?"
I stiffly began peeling the blood soaked cloth away. Without it, I could see that most of my side had bruised, and the wound still leaked.
He winced, pulling out a square cloth. "Ouch..." He pressed his fingers against it, shooting a throbbing pain throughout my body.
"Fuck!" My eyes squeezed themselves shut. Tears were pricking at my eyes, nearly slipping out. Once his fingers were gone, it subsided to a small pang. I opened my eyes again. He wiped his hand off, looking grim.
"Well, there's good news and bad news..."
"And?" I snapped.
"The bullet is stuck, but it didn't hit anything important. You're pretty lucky, a few inches to my right and it would've at least hit your lung." He smiled reassuringly before pulling out some metal tools. "Ready?" I gave a nod.
Using what looked like tweezers, he began pulling at the bullet, digging into the sensitive flesh. White hot pain surged upward, I felt faint. My heart beat roared loudly in my ears, pulsing wildly. With a final tug the bullet was out. More blood began pouring out, but he quickly covered it, readying a sewing needle and disinfectant. The disinfectant stung, and immediately after he began stitching the small hole closed. My eyes watered, but I managed to keep them open, just staring up at the gloomy sky.
"Okay, I'm done." He tied off the thick string, covering it with gauze. I grabbed my shirt. It was no use; the stain wouldn't wash out, and it was too messed up to sew. Just perfect...
I smiled, "Thanks..." I got up and quickly headed over to the ladder. I just wanted to get home and sleep...
"Wait!" I was just about to descend before I heard someone calling. I turned, feeling sick.
"Yes?" The medic guy was rifling through the red bag. He finally pulled out two orange bottles with a white caps, handing them to me.
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "There aren't that many, but they should keep your wound from getting infected, and help with the pain. Just follow the instructions, and you'll be fine."
I nodded, reading the worn labels. "Thank you, for everything."
"No problem, it's kinda my job."
With that, I turned back to the ladder, heading home.

Notes