than a child his size should be able to muster, the boy shoved his head to the side forcefully, sparking a parade of pain that ran roughshod from his fingertips to his toes. He tried to scream but was choked by the pinkish liquid.

He gulped until he could no longer work his throat. The boy stopped pouring, as the liquid pooled in his mouth, spilled over, and washed the bile from his face.

The boy capped the plastic bottle and flashed a gap-toothed grin. "Stay here," he instructed needlessly.

Chris would laugh if not for the tsunami of pain.

Jesus Christ, I'm alive. I can't even die right…

 

"You owe the boy your life," the big man told him.

He nodded from the bed.

Watching the large stranger mill about kept hi...

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