HARMONY

33 "Really? It can get worse?"

Steve wakes up, alone in the bus and in desperate need of a doctor....

Sunlight was harsh. Steve uncrusted an eye to peer at the morning rays crashing onto the bus's black floor. He closed it. Mentally scanning his body, he felt for pain. Everything hurt. Everything. Visualizing every movement of each body part, he planned his attempt to sit up. Noting the silence and the stillness, he figured he was parked outside a diner.

Slowly, so slowly, he moved. His flesh screamed with every shift against gravity. Half way to his ascent to sit, the return of nausea coupled with the fear of actually vomiting, froze him. He breathed. I'm going to die. Unfolding the rest of his body, he slowly found upright.

Steve tried to calculate a last meal, his last shower, even the last time he brushed his teeth. I don't know where I am, what day it is...For a man once gleefully enslaved to his appointment calendar, he shivered with these thoughts. I need a shower and a doctor. And an airplane. He stood up, swayed and sat back down. I'm going to die in this stickn fuckn bus. With added determination, he stood and used anything he could reach to brace himself as he made his way to the door. He squinted again into the day and tried to focus on a petite figure making her way to the bus. Sparrow?

She looked over her shoulder again and boarded. The slight shake of the bus made Steve grab his stomach. Sparrow ran up the aisle, grabbed his hand and put her finger to her lips with the other. Steve nodded.

As quickly as she could tug him along, she brought him out of the bus and into the plush motorhome of the band. He grunted in protest, but resigned himself. She propped him up on the purple feather sofa and he heard the sound of running water. Steam wafted from a little room in the back.

He fumbled with his clothes, unable to so much as lift his arm above his head. She helped him undress. He stood there—naked, filthy, in tremendous pain and totally horny. She pointed to the shower.

Black rivers of grime twisted in a grotesque path to the drain. With his one moving arm, he shampooed and he scrubbed. He never wanted this shower to end.

"Hurry," Sparrow said. "They'll be back any minute."

"Thank you so much for---"

"Just finish and get out."

The beautiful cascade of water ended, and Steve stood naked and dripping. "Are there any other clothes I could wear?"

"Maybe, let me see."

He patted himself with a stiff towel and stepped out. Sparrow stood holding open a pair of jeans. Steve smiled. "I used to hold pants like that for my kids when they were learning to dress."

"I don't care. Just put these on." She looked out the window. "We have to hurry."

He balanced himself on her shoulder and stepped into one leg. He felt his first twinge of embarrassment as his junk flopped.

"Sorry, I couldn't find any boxers," Sparrow said.

"No, this is perfect," he said. "It feels so fucking good to be clean."

"You should see a doctor."

"Actually, I've never felt better."

Just as he lifted his second leg, the door opened. The motor home lurched with the weight of its new passenger.

Sparrow's eyes locked with Steve's in genuine fear. She dropped the jeans and stood up to face the doorway. "It's not what you think..."