--ovw--LIII--ovw--
MONDAY
9:19 AM
Northwest of Windcreek
"Pulling up in dat whip, I done dat dumb shit..." she rapped to herself as Connor made his way toward her.
I turned my attention to the man under us.
Compassion, not the need to get clear and coherent answers, moved my other hand onto the skin of his neck. And yes, here was the pain; awful, heavy, like a headache but more so like the death and the foggy blurry gore and the necrosis that Zapryekavil brought on- not as bad, but almost.
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"Can you please not think about Zapryekavil right now!?" said Kaylee.
"Dude," I said, "read this guy's mind, not mine!"
"Muscle memory," she said. "I read everything."
"Fuck that right now, Kayles, freaking concentrate."
"Help me, please," the man mumbled.
You'll be fine, I wanted to say.
But the reality was, I didn't know.
Despite the stielvine, he was bleeding. There was... some part of me that almost knew it was too late, too late for him. But just didn't want to acknowledge it. Not yet, anyway.
No-
I was going to save him. I was there to help him; I was going to save him.
Enough people were abused or tortured or killed in front of me.
The black streaks under my eyes, the skin on my hands as well as my face turning white, the irises of my eyes probably changing color from brown to gray to white at this point; I didn't know how much time we had.
I spoke telepathically to Kaylee, because of the mission, and, because, this man I didn't know was probably dying.
Concentrate.
I'm doing that.
Well, do better.
"Shut up, Chris," Kaylee said physically, with a tone of acid to her normal singsong Southern U.S. voice.
The man started to laugh. It was terrifying. Because... I'd heard that kind of laughter before. We both did, Kaylee and I.
Blood ran down both my eyes.
"It's funny... I don't... I don't... I don't feel any pain at all anymore. Thank you."
Those were the last words he spoke.
