"I've got one!" Taylor heard a male voice yell from somewhere above her. Her body was wracked with pain and she groaned lightly.
"She's in bad shape…" A second male voice murmured.
"Yeah, but she's alive…" the first said.
"We should leave her, she'll only slow us down…" a third voice, deep and also male, said.
Taylor opened her eyes a bit. There was blood everywhere. She shuddered, coughing weakly. Her throat burned and felt like someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. She listened to the rest of the conversation.
"NO!" the first voice shouted. "She's hurt; we can't just leave her to die! Who knows how many survivors there are…and we've only seen one other girl around." With a knowing glance at the others.
"He's right…" the second person agreed.
"Very well…" the third person said reluctantly, "Let's see if she's even awake…"
Taylor felt a steady hand on her side and felt herself being rolled over. She struggled against the grip feebly.
"It's okay…" The first person, obviously the owner of the hands holding her down, said soothingly. Taylor calmed, but her eyes were still filled with pain and fear, and the first boy sighed. "Where are you hurt?" he asked.
Taylor couldn't think straight, and her hand went instinctively to her side, where she felt that her shirt was soaked through. ~Why…? ~ She thought, looking at her hand, it was covered in bright red liquid. This scared her, and she began to struggle again, not remembering what happened…
"She's really confused, let's bandage up her wounds and--…" Taylor didn't hear the rest of his words, for she had drifted out on consciousness…