Adam woke slowly, drifting back to consciousness an inch at a time. The allure of sleep remained heavy and seductive. Minutes ticked by as he savored the vague, disconnected sensation of half-sleep, like waking without an alarm on a Saturday morning.

  Muffled voices finally drew him the last few steps from sleep. He brought stiff, uncoordinated hands to his face, rubbing at his matted eyes. The left side of his face throbbed at the touch, and he winced. Tentative fingers explored the area, tracing a line of stitches that started above his eyebrow and ran halfway down his cheek.

  A small pinching sensation tugged at the crook of his left arm, making him finally open his eyes. An IV line fed into his vein, the mostly empty bag hanging from an improvised hook on the wall. Sunlight streamed through a high window, revealing the cramped bathroom.

  Adam lay on a sleeping bag spread over a booth seat. He was instantly glad to already be in a bathroom as his bladder reminded him just how long it had been ignored. Sitting up slowly, he swung his legs off the bench and planted his feet. His right ankle was wrapped tightly in brownish bandages, nearly immobilizing the joint.

  He stood, and his foot protested gently, the pain dull and far away. After finishing his business, he examined himself in the mirror. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and stitching ran from the middle of his forehead to mid-cheek, interrupted only by a space for his eye. He ran his fingers along the tender wound, considering the new addition to his face. Adam turned his head back and forth, wondering if the eventual scar might add to his character.

  The voices rose again, still muffled, but tense, drawing his attention. He stripped off his clothes, checking for additional bruises or injuries. The water from the tap was surprisingly warm as he scrubbed away the sickbed feel from his skin. The IV continued tugging lightly at his arm, and he was careful not to pull it free while he washed.

  Shivering, he dried himself with a conveniently placed hand towel. His dirty clothes stank of smoke, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Adam dressed from the spare clothes in his backpack, smelling only marginally less like a campfire. His shirt remained in hand when he realized the IV line made it all but impossible to put on. He grabbed the bag off the wall and stepped to the door.

  His hand paused on the handle. He wasn't sure he wanted to know if Samantha was alive, or if he had failed. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he opened the door.

  Natalie stood poised to reach for the handle, her eyes widening in surprise.

  "H... Hey,” Adam said, voice cracking, still raw from the smoke.

  Multiple unreadable expressions flickered across Natalie's face and she stepped forward and hugged him briefly. Adam patted her back awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden embrace.

  "Thank you," she whispered, pulling away and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm glad you finally decided to join us."

  Adam gave a tired smile and cleared his throat. "You can't blame me for sleeping in a little."

  He spotted Hector raising a steaming mug in greeting before taking a sip. "Christ, I hope that's coffee."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Natalie grinned and took his arm, guiding him to the counter where the pilfered medical supplies were laid out in neat, organized piles.

  "I think 'a little' is an understatement," she said, pulling the line from his arm. Placing a cotton swap over the welling spot of blood, she wrapped his elbow in bandages with practiced ease.

  "How long was I out?" Adam pulled his shirt on and glanced around. "And where is Samantha? Is she...?" He trailed off, searching Natalie's face.

  "About 36 hours, give or take. You wouldn't wake up yesterday, so I started an IV just in case." Hector passed Natalie a steaming cup and she handed it to Adam. "I'm really glad you woke up. I was not looking forward to putting you in a diaper."

  Hector snorted, nearly spraying coffee across the counter. "I would have let you die. Also, you look like shit."

  Adam gave him the finger and Hector saluted him with the cup.

  The door to the women's bathroom opened, and Samantha shuffled out. She looked rough, her skin still paper white, with dark circles under her eyes, but she was alive. Adam let out a long breath, the tension in his chest finally breaking. She gave him a small wave, her other hand clutching a matching IV bag.

  "I'm alive," Samantha said, touching Adam's shoulder briefly as she passed. "I woke up a little while after you left, but I didn't really start feeling better until after you came back."

  She held out her hand and dropped a small, dark piece of metal into Natalie's palm. "I figured out why my stomach was so upset."

  Natalie's face twisted into horror. "I forgot about the bullet..." Her shoulders slumped.

  "Relax, love. Turns out, I just had to throw up." Samantha lowered herself into a high stool at the counter, one arm wrapped around her middle. "I do not recommend vomiting after being shot in the stomach. It hurts. A lot."

  "Wait." Adam rubbed at the stubble on his chin, trying to keep up. "So, you woke up without us? Meaning..."

  "Meaning she probably would have recovered, even if you hadn't gone for supplies," Natalie said as she poured hot water into two cups. The scent of chamomile drifted into the air, softening the scent of coffee.

  Adam sat down heavily, dropping his head into his hands. The hospital trip had been pointless, and had nearly gotten both him and Hector burned alive. His shoulders shook as he fought the stinging pressure behind his eyes. Everything was already screwed, but risking his life for nothing was too much. The silence stretched, awkward and heavy, no one daring to speak while Adam tried to hold it together.

  When he finally looked up, Natalie and Samantha were watching him intently. Hector kept his gaze fixed anywhere else.

  "Look, I know things went bad out there," Natalie began.

  Adam cut her off. "Went bad? You think they went bad?"

  He slammed his hand down on the counter, the overhead light flickering with the impact. Natalie flinched and her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to reply, but Adam kept going.

  "Going bad would've been not finding the supplies. Or wrecking the car. Or even getting jumped on the way back. That would've been bad. What actually happened out there..."

  He jabbed a finger into his stitched cheek, his face twisting into a half-snarl. "I assume you did this. You want to know why I needed stitches?"

  "Hector just said you were hurt when he found you." She shot a scathing look at Hector, who still hadn't looked up, his eyes fixed squarely on his coffee.

  Adam slid his eyes across the room toward the other man. "You saved my life, so I'm not going to be a dick to you. But why didn't you tell them what happened?"

  Hector shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "Didn't feel like my place to try and tell your side of it."

  Adam felt a sneer forming but forced it down, trying to reign in his temper. "That’s a cop out, but alright."

  Samantha spoke up. "Hey. Hey. It's okay. You risked your life for me, even if you didn't need to. It means a lot. I... we're grateful. More than you know." She reached out tentatively, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  For a moment, Adam considered pushing her away. He thought about walking out of The Pagegrinder and not looking back, but she held onto him, and when he looked past her, Natalie was watching, her eyes soft with understanding. She mouthed the words; thank you.

  The anger drained out of him, replaced with a crushing weariness. Adam sagged in Samantha's arms. A sob escaped before he could stop it, and then another. He clutched at her like a drowning man, not caring who saw.