The Pact by J.P. Choquette

Author:J.P. Choquette [Choquette, J.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scared E Cat Books
Published: 2020-11-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Rick Langlois

A pale gray-blue patch of sky was the first thing Rick saw when he opened his eyes. He pushed himself upright, moaning as he did so. His leg had burned last night. This morning it felt as though someone was jabbing hot nails into the burning flesh. When he lowered his head, waited for the dizziness to pass, he smelled something bad. Like rotten meat. Rick’s stomach twisted and roiled. He waited a few seconds for the nausea to pass. He should drink something, was probably dehydrated. He fumbled around him for the water bottle and uncapped it, but then turned his head away. He couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t even open his mouth. It felt glued together, his dry lips welded shut.

Lifting a weak hand to his face, he felt three days growth of beard itching his cheeks. His eyes felt sunken in his head. His entire side hurt but his leg…the pain in his leg was excruciating. He was hot again and felt the damp, itchy tracks of fresh sweat running down his scalp and back and chest. His breath wheezed slightly in his chest.

What was he going to do, he wondered almost dreamily. It was strange. Like he was watching this happen to a character in a movie. He felt concerned about the Rick on the ground, struggling to remain sitting upright. But he also felt disconnected from him. Oh well, he thought as the man slumped back over onto the makeshift bed. I guess he’s not getting up.

He drifted away, darkness stealing over him.

When he woke next, a sharp, persistent pain throbbed in his head. Dehydration, his brain screamed. He tried to find the water bottle again, but couldn’t. His fingers felt big and fat like someone had strapped sausages to the ends of his hands. That same strange out-of-body experience was still there. Rick felt an odd desire to laugh as he struggled to right himself and then tipped backward. He should uncover his leg, look at the wound. He should drink something. He should…but everything was too hard. Too much effort. Rick only wanted to sleep again, escape into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

He shook his head in slow motion.

No. That wasn’t a good idea. He’d die out here. The coyotes would come back and get him. If the infection in his body didn’t.

He needed…something. But what? A helicopter. A hospital. No, that wasn’t it. Well. He did need those things but there was something else that skittered on the fringes of his brain. It darted into his thoughts but then back out too fast for him to catch it.

Rick finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position. He grimaced as he pulled back the tape on the bandage on his leg. The smell coming from it made him gag. He turned his head away just in time to vomit. But there was nothing in his stomach so he only dry heaved weakly a few times. His body started to slide back down to the makeshift mat, but he forced himself to stay upright.

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