Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:
He ripped off the t-shirt that was shredded and blood-stained and dropped it on the living room floor, the shirt being nothing more than a wet rag hanging by thin strips of blood soaked cloth. Staggering from the blood loss he collapsed into one of the cheap chairs that dotted the room and held his hand on the still pulsing wound on his stomach. Like himself, the room was a mess with boxes and their contents scattered throughout, clothes mixed with food mixed with weapons.
He clenched his teeth as another wave of pain rolled through his system, stealing his blood, his energy and almost his entire will to live. Gasping as the wave rolled past he struggled to move, climbing unsteadily to his feet before collapsing once again into the chair.
He had to move, damn it, he needed to move before the infection spread too far. Even now it may be too late, but he had to try. Frantically he searched the room for a medkit, his anxiety growing as he looked at box after box with no medkit in sight. As he was about to start the visual search again he saw one lying underneath some cans of beans. Flopping out of the chair he crawled with one hand while trying to hold the wound closed with another. The flow of blood had slowed but whether that was because he was running out of blood or the infection was taking hold he wasn’t sure. He was running out of strength. The adrenaline that had fueled his escape was gone, his muscles weak, his legs useless.
He was going to die.
He closed his eyes thinking about all that he could have accomplished, all the people that he could have saved if he had only been more careful. If only he hadn’t fallen in love. As he lost consciousness he thought he heard the apartment door open and a voice, a familiar voice, utter a curse before saying “Not today, Jayson, not today.”
Post a link to the story in the comments.