Page 8 of Prodigal Son

“It would be better if you slept.”

“Better for what?”

“You need to heal.”

“I need a doctor.”

He grunted and continued to examine her wounds.

She didn’t fight him or struggle. She shivered, her unblinking eyes staring at the flames as her mind went somewhere else. Maybe she’d wake up in a hospital bed with her brother, Vito, frowning over her with hard-earned relief.

The thought tempted her closer to sleep. She just wanted this to be over.

Her lashes fluttered and she curled her fisted hands under her breasts in an attempt to keep warm. Flashes of amber danced over the jagged stone walls of the cave. She remembered learning about the old railroad tunnels throughout Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania. Maybe they were inside such a tunnel.

The shadows moved and the walls lightened as the sun slowly rose. A vulture or eagle flew overhead, cawing and reminding her how high they were.

“Wha’ d’you give me?” she slurred. The high-altitude winds stole what was left of her tentative voice.

“I gave you nothing. You’re dehydrated, and you lost a lot of blood.”

She turned her head toward the opening of the cave, the slight motion pulling the tight skin at her back and causing her to wince. Dropping her cheek to the cold dirt floor, she caught her breath.

Green peaks stacked across the pale horizon. The forest floor lay miles below, and the mere thought of escaping took more effort than she could currently spare. The sky changed color every time she found the strength to look at it. Black, purple, gray, sometimes blue and then black again.

“Careful. It’s best if you stay still. Save your strength.” His voice warned from far away.

She turned her head again, now finding him back on the other side of the fire which had burned low. Had she fallen asleep again? Her brain wasn’t tracking time.

Her heart beat out of rhythm, speeding then slowing as she licked her dry lips. She needed water but asking seemed a daunting task. Her hands and feet were numb and the walls were spinning. She was going to be sick.

“What are you doing?”

She struggled to rise to her hands and knees. A wave of dizziness pushed her dangerously close to the fire and her breath halted and held as she met his stare. His eyes appeared too bright for the shadowed cave, as if they were glowing. It had to be the reflection of the fire separating them.

He sat in the glimmer of the low-burning flames. His face mostly hidden, except for those startling eyes. The sparks of rising embers cast an amber glow over his heavily muscled chest. Flashes of red and orange licking over every bulge of exposed sinew and—was that blood?

Facts jumbled in her memory, blurring the line between reality and fiction once more. She shot him. She remembered the arrow sticking out of him, but now…

Not a single imperfection. Just a few smears of red, but even that didn’t seem enough. Where was the wound? How was he sitting there without a single cut on his body?

Alive. He was alive. She was alive. None of this made sense.

Her gaze searched the cave floor. “Where’s my phone?”

He pushed off the wall, rising with startling agility, as he stepped out of the shadows. His face came into full view as he towered over the flames appearing ominous and powerful. No mistaking that nasty glare or the wide breadth of his shoulders meant to threaten her.

Okay, so they weren’t friends. That made sense if she’d shot him. But he appeared uninjured. She frowned. Just…bloody. Was that her blood? It tinged the gold stubble along his jaw making it appear darker. How had her blood smeared over his chin and face?

His boots scraped over the dirt floor of the cave as he approached, a leather canteen dangling from his fingers. “Drink.”

The moment he gave the command her thirst registered once more, undeniable and desperate. With shaky hands, she took the cask and awkwardly tried to open it. She was so weak, even the simple act of twisting a metal cap depleted her.

He yanked it back and loosened the cap. “Not too much.” He shoved it back in her hand.

The water was warm but clean enough to wash away the dust in her mouth. It soothed her raw throat.

“Not too much, I said. You haven’t eaten in days. It’s a waste if you throw it up.”

---