Manifest

Forty-two

Eddie groaned as Nature held on to the blade of the machete and began to push. It moved. A very tiny nudge. His head was clearer than before, but he still felt slow. Everyone's words moved too fast, their actions ahead of his cognition, but he was better. His brain no longer sparked every time he tried to focus.

It had been almost an hour since he used his anointing. Maybe, the longer he gave it a rest, the better he'd be. He was going to have to believe that since he couldn't believe anything Abasi Isong said. She'd lied to him about his anointing not being permanent. She had to be lying about side effects, too.

"T-tell me... the... t-t-ruth," Eddie said. "How... b-bad is... it?"

"It's not bad. You'll be fine," Dara said.

She held his hand and patted it, looking around at the mbono on the ground. He'd killed one. He'd been a part of it. Eddie was a murderer now.

The machete moved again, and Eddie felt a larger tear in his chest. His mouth was full of blood and he was tired of spitting, so he just sat there with his mouth open and allowed it to leak out as much as it wanted to. He had no control over anything anyway. Why pretend he could control this?

Dara dragged a discarded t-shirt from the ground and bundled it into a rag she used to wipe the blood as it poured. Eddie couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" she asked.

How did she think she was going to solve his problems by focusing on the least important thing?

"It will get better."

He wanted to ask how. He didn't bother. It would take too much to talk.

"I have a plan."

Eddie didn't want to burst her bubble. They were incredibly screwed.

"Help is on the way."

Unless that help was another god who could save Eddie's life, Eddie wasn't inclined to care.