Page 92 of Rat

It rang, but she didn’t answer.

Rory sighed before he remembered she was going to lock herself away in a cabin with Danny. He shuddered and handed the phone back.

“I’ll catch her next time.”

The two-minute walk back to the wing didn’t help him sort through his mind. He should’ve been happy that he’d potentially saved lives, saved Hamish, but he felt hollow inside. It was a mess, and for the first time in months, Rory sought out Captain. He knocked tentatively on the cell door, and Captain’s gruff voice asked him to come in.

“It’s me…”

Captain groaned and heaved himself up on the bed. Sweat dripped down his face, and he slumped forward, clutching his stomach.

“Shit,” Rory said, rushing over to him. He gripped Captain’s shoulder. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

Captain huffed. “Sickness, sweating, a headache. It’s so bad I’m tempted to knock my head into the wall…”

“Why?”

“The whiskey tap couldn’t keep up with demand.”

“Oh.”

Rory sat down next to Captain on the bed.

“Don’t you dare tell me, I told you so,” Captain warned.

“I’m not going to. Withdrawal looks like hell.”

“It is. I’ve seen many hells, but this one I keep going back to. I’m weak to this hell. Where’s Ollie?”

“Art class.”

Captain sighed. “I’m awful at drawing. I can just about manage stickmen. That’s the limit of my artistic talent.”

Rory’s lips twitched into a smile. “Same, but Ollie, he’s something else. Gifted.”

“Yeah?”

“He drew this butterfly for Teddy, and it looks amazing.”

Captain grinned. “I’ll have to ask if I can see it.”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, he’ll really like that.”

“How are you coping?” Captain asked.

“As well as can be expected…”

Rory picked a boot off the floor, and Captain passed him a brush. “I may have been sick on that one.”

“Nice.” Rory snorted, then he started brushing the boot. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“When you were in the army, did you ever go into enemy lines, you know like…undercover?”

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