Resurgence: Green Fields book 5 Read Online Free Page B

to.”
    I was too tired to feel embarrassed, and after a moment’s hesitation told him to go ahead. Any mortification I might have felt at needing help to drag myself up into a somewhat more upright position was wiped straight from my mind when pain exploded through my body. This time my leg was worst, but my lungs also hurt, and I generally felt tender—or rather, tenderized. I was still wincing as Nate handed me a steaming cup. I drank a few sips, wondering what was in that shit that it made my tongue and lips tingle. When I was done, Nate took the cup back, cursing as he almost dropped it back onto the nightstand.
    “Shit, that’s hot.” He gave me a weird look. “Wasn’t that too hot to drink?”
    I held his gaze for a moment, then stared at the cup. Moving slowly, I dipped my left index finger into the liquid. Nothing. Well, it felt wet, but not like something that made my skin darken immediately. Looking from my finger back to him, I couldn’t help but snort. “Huh.”
    “That’s one way of putting it,” he said, frowning. “Exactly how do you feel right now?”
    “Like death warmed over,” I replied, not quite joking. “Please tell me I’m not decomposing already.”
    He snorted. “Not as far as I know. But I’ve already suspected that the virus screwed up your pain sensation.”
    “How? Did you suspect that, I mean.”
    “When I accidentally banged your head against a door and you barely gave a grunt?” When I narrowed my eyes at him, he gifted me with a self-deprecating smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It wasn’t that much of a bang. More of a slight bump rather than a full-on slam.”
    “When did that happen?”
    “Last time I changed rooms.” At my bewildered look, he explained. “I don’t know how much you remember…”
    “More than enough.” I groaned.
    “Anyway. This is the fifth room. We have about twenty more for spares, if you don’t like this one, but there’s not much chance for improvement.”
    “It’s okay.” That was not the part I was worried about. Fumbling for the blanket, I tried to pull it away, but my fingers were too weak to get a good grip on it. Holding the cup had all but exhausted me. Nate laid his hand over mine, stilling my motion. At my glare, he squeezed my fingers again.  
    “Give it a few more days,” he advised.
    “Off. Now,” I commanded. He hesitated but then relented, pushing the blankets away. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but there was a thick bandage covering my leg from my hip down to my knee. The fact that there was still a complete left leg was a good sign, though. I started fumbling with the bandage, and after a few moments of watching me fail, Nate brushed my hand away and gently removed the tape that held the gauze in place. What lay underneath wasn’t pretty, but looked nothing like it had… about a week ago. There was scar tissue—a lot of it—but it was all healed over, if still that angry red of recent wounds. No scabs, certainly no pus, and not even any swelling left. It looked more like a month rather than a few days had passed since the factory.
    “Just how long was I out?” I asked, gingerly running a fingertip along the very middle of the main scar. It was easily as thick across as my thumb.
    “Today is the seventh day that we’ve been here,” Nate replied. At my doubtful look, he shrugged. “Guess we’re even now. You patched me up once, now I got to repay the favor. Sorry that it’s not exactly a dainty scar but I did the best I could with what I had to work with. As great as the glue is for keeping you from bleeding to death, it’s not gentle to the surrounding tissue.” He must have realized that he was stalling, and finally skipped to the important part. “The first day you were comatose, your injuries were still getting worse. There was no wound healing, and I must have drained about ten ounces of pus. I stopped checking on it when you stopped breathing for minutes at a time,