Redemption

Chapter Twenty: The Aftermath

When I came to, I felt the soft vibrations of the truck, and I knew that I traveling with Micah and Fletcher once again. I was covered with two flannel blankets, with a third tucked under my head in a makeshift pillow. Although it was a sweet gesture, the combination of the afternoon sun, the thick blankets, and my terrifying dream was too much, and I was now sweating copiously.

I sat up and tugged at the blankets in a desperate attempt to cool my heated skin. Micah, who had been staring into the distance, noticed my struggle.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, placing his hand on my sticky forehead.

"A little sore," I admitted, stretching my stiff extremities. My knee, specifically, felt sore.

"That's normal after setting a dislocation. I didn't think you'd go through with it, honestly. You can be very difficult sometimes, but I'm impressed," Micah said with a small smile.

"Thanks... I think," I muttered.

"Here, take these. They'll help with the pain and swelling," he said, handing me two white pills and a bottle of water. I took them without hesitation. "Let's take a look at your leg."

He rolled up my pant leg to expose my wrapped knee, and began prodding my tender skin. The pain had substantially decreased, although I still winces when he poked the bruised area. The inflammation had gone down now, and my knee was almost back to normal size.

"It looks much better," Micah said, twisting my leg from side to side to examine it. "I don't think there's any permanent damage. It seems to be healing quickly enough. I guess the real test will be when it comes time to walk, which won't be too much longer, I'm afraid," he said, glancing nervously at the front of the truck where small puffs of smoke were escaping from the hood.

As he leaned forward, I noticed Micah's singed shirt and the oozing wound on his shoulder. My stomach gave a nauseous lurch seeing the mixture of burnt flesh and infection that caused the wound to turn a strange color.

"You should really let me clean that," I said, hoping I didn't lose last night's spaghetti rings at the idea.

"Good luck. I've already tried to convince him, but he's stubborn," Fletcher said from the front seat.

"I'm fine," Micah said, trying to hide the wound by adjusting his jacket.

"You're not fine. Your shoulder looks horrible! Ignoring it will only make it worse," I said.

"If nothing else let her patch it up so the rest of us don't have to see it. Or smell it for that matter," Fletcher suggested, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"We need to save our medical supplies for emergencies," Micah argued .

"Micah, this is an emergency. If that wound gets infected, we're screwed. Fletcher and I cant handle the Malin alone. Now, you can either swallow your pride and let me help you for a change, or I'm going to hold you down and do it anyway. It won't be easy, but I'll manage," I said, in a threat that everyone knew was empty; like I could ever take Micah if it came down to it.

Fletcher looked at me in the rearview mirror, a delighted smile on his face. Micah just stared, his eyes twinkling with amusement. With a sigh, he took off his jacket and crawled to my side of the truck.

My heart dropped when I looked more closely at Micah's shoulder. The wound was much worse than I had anticipated. It was a deep injury, with several layers of his skin having been burned away. It was bright red and shiny, with pus-filled blisters along the surface. The smell of festering flesh made me want to gag.