The Last of Us by D B Bray

Author:D B Bray [Bray, D B]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“Jack, hey Jack, can you hear me?” a voice called out on his left.

Jack’s eyelids refused to open, trying to hide him from the pain. He winced and felt the cold metal of the boat against his face. He could feel someone’s hands press along his body. He forced his eyes open and saw Toby nose to nose with him.

“Toby?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper.

“Darn tootin’. Are you okay?” he asked, trying to lift him out of the boat.

He could hear several other voices behind Toby, one the most important amongst them. Lucy stood off to the side with Adam, Billy, Fred, and Charlie. Quill stood a few feet away, assembling a concoction for him.

“Where am I?” Jack asked.

Toby waved his hands in the air. “Your boat floated onto the shore a little while ago an—-.”

“Toby, let him rest for a moment. I need you to bring me a canteen and some food. Can you do that?” Lucy asked.

Toby scampered off. She knelt next to Jack and held his hand. “Adam told me what happened. I’m sorry, Jack, I should never have left Philadelphia with you. Red won’t stop until he has me back,” she said.

Jack clasped her hand in his. “It was worth it,” he croaked.

Quill came over, lifted Jack’s head up, and put a glass of hot broth to his lips. Jack squirmed and tried to pull his head away. It smelled like a wet dog.

“Ah, what is that?” he asked, stifling a gag.

Quill gripped his neck tighter and tilted his head further back. He poured the contents down his throat with a grunt. Jack screamed in pain as the broth rolled down his throat, chunks of some type of food nearly choking him.

“It’s a mix of boiled onions, garlic, and apple cider vinegar. I call it Spider Fire; you’ll feel like you have eight legs. You’ll need to keep drinking it over the next couple of days while you heal up. You have hypothermia and what looks like a bullet wound,” he said, waving over a stretcher.

The group carried him back to the fort. The Statue of Liberty loomed over them as they passed through the gate. Jack lifted his head and watched the children playing games and laughing. He saw a smile cross Quill’s face as they passed by. They carried him into a tent with a fire raging in the center, a hole cut in the top of the canvas. Quill strode to a table and assembled some bandages, forceps, and pliers. He stuck a black metal poker in the fire and walked back over to him.

Jack stared at the poker and then at Quill. He had seen the operation done several times, and the screams of the men who went under the knife still caused him to shudder. His throat ran dry, and he coughed.

“It’ll be alright. Bite down on this. It’ll help,” Quill said, handing him a wooden pin.

Charlie walked up to him and touched his shoulder.

“The Blades owe you.

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