Ten Seconds Later
He dragged himself up off the floor, his left arm dangling limply and bleeding everywhere. He stumbled back and forth, from room to room, trying to find anything to staunch the flow of blood from his mutilated limb. He tried a tourniquet, and screamed in agony when he applied it to his arm.
He didn't have anything to splint the limb though, and even if he did, he only had one working hand to use. He had no choice, there was no first aid down here and the cold and malnutrition would make it impossible for him to heal broken bones easily. Besides, the tourniquet was barely working, there was too much wrecked flesh wrapped around jagged pieces of broken bone.
He stumbled towards the mess hall, reeling from blood loss and pain. Given the situation, he only really had one option. The stove fired up quickly and the burners were already heating up as he grabbed the cleaver. The blade bit through the mangled flesh and broken bone of his arm and went straight through to nick his ribs.
The arm flopped down onto the floor with a wet smacking noise, and the cleaver followed quickly with a clang. He yelped and slapped his hand onto the slice in his side. Gritting his teeth, he bent over and slapped the twisted stump of his arm onto the red burners.
The last thing he thought before he slumped to the floor and passed out was that his arm smelled like what he'd eaten for breakfast.
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