The Eyes of Fate (Currently in Rewrite)

Where Do We Go Now?

Sentinel

Unknown

Laine, Oklahoma, USA

December 6, 2019

The sound of a car door slamming drug Sentinel back to consciousness. He jolted up, almost knocking Oracle's legs off his lap. Before he could do anything more, he felt Chesyr's hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat.

"It's okay," she said softly. "You're okay. You're safe."

"Where are we?" He asked, feeling the adrenaline course through his system. The gravelly sound of his voice made him grimace, and he cleared his throat to try and speak again. That proved to be the wrong choice, because pain lanced through his throat and his mouth filled with the taste of old pennies.

"Shhh, don't talk, remember?" Chesyr chastised him, the soft smile on her face robbing the words of any sting they might have had. "We're back at home base. The boys are dropping Stellan off and picking through the place one more time for anything useful before we figure out where to go next."

Sentinel opened his mouth, flinched when the pain flared up in it, then closed his mouth and decided to just nod instead.

"Throat pretty sore?" Chesyr asked. He nodded again. "Anything else hurting?"

Sentinel thought for a moment, taking mental stock of himself. He felt like when one of his friends had tazed him in school as a joke, every single part of him sore and aching, except a hundred times worse. He tried to relate as much to Chesyr with just gestures.

"Your everything hurts?" She asked, amusement brightening her face. When Sentinel nodded, so did she. "I bet it does. I've got the boys grabbing some low-grade pain meds from inside, provided they're still there. Anything stand out from the rest of the pain?"

It wasn't hard for him to pick out the worst spots. He touched his wrists, ankles, neck, and head. Chesyr waited for a moment while he physically pat himself down, and winced when he hit a spot on his stomach. He lifted up his shirt and saw a giant bruise, lurid purple and red with greenish yellow around the edges.

"God damn, it looks worse than it did earlier." Chesyr swore. "Does it only hurt when you touch it?"

Sentinel nodded, and Chesyr asked him several more questions, until she seemed satisfied that nothing inside of him was busted up. After that, she pulled a roll of gauze and a small bottle of betadine.

"Give me one of your hands, I'm going to wrap your wrists." She said. He did as instructed, and she smeared the reddish-brown ointment around his wrist before gently wrapping it in gauze. While she did, she ran him through another gauntlet about how his head hurt, where the pain was, and other physical symptoms. By the time she was satisfied, she had done both of his wrists, somehow without spilling any on Oracle's unconscious body in their laps.

"So, the good news is that your wrists won't show any significant scarring from this, and your ankles and neck probably won't either." She smiled at him, but he was waiting for the bad news. "The bad news is that you've got at least a mild concussion. Do you remember taking any hits to the head?"

Sentinel shook his head.

"That's not a great sign." The concern on her face was plain as day. "It means you either got hit hard enough to forget it, or you get concussed easily. The only upside is that you'll have plenty of time to sleep while we all heal up and plan our next move."

Sentinel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"No, it's alright for you to sleep," Chesyr said, getting it almost immediately. "The whole thing about not sleeping is only for the first twelve or so hours, and since you were already pretty out of it when we found you, it's a bit late for that. Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on you, so you'll be fine."