Fletcher shivered, leaning his head against the cold stone wall. He held onto it for dear life with his one functioning limb. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. Everything seemed to move slower due to the freezing water surrounding him and the concussion he incurred from fighting the vrenfa. At least he assumed it was a concussion that was making his head hurt so much. Even thinking caused it to ache more. And he was so tired. Unbelievably tired, and yet his body was wide awake due to the wial’os.

  He lifted his head as he heard something from the other side of the wall. Were the Unhumans coming back? Or dare he hope that someone from his mother’s team might have come for him?

  “Fletcher?” a voice shouted.

  He recognized it. Captain Naeku. Help finally came for him.

  “Here!” Fletcher yelled back, though he wasn’t sure how much of the sound the wall absorbed.

  “Fletcher?” Naeku called out again.

  “Here!” Fletcher then took a deep breath and then pushed himself under the water’s surface. From there, he managed to swim out back through the shaft’s entrance into the main river in the room where he’d originally fallen. It was only thanks to his active [Frenzy] that he accomplished such a thing with all his injuries and the splinted legs.

  He swam back to the surface and broke into open air. He coughed as bits of water went down his throat due to his inability to properly stay afloat with only one functioning arm and the extra bulk on his legs, keeping them straight.

  “Fletcher! Deities. What are you doing?” Naeku asked, bending down and stretching a hand out.

  Fletcher grabbed it with his left hand, the only extremity that wasn’t broken. He grimaced as Naeku pulled him to the shore and then up onto the damp floor of the room.

  “L-long s-s-story,” Fletcher said between chatters. He’d never been this cold in his life.

  Naeku stripped his own jacket off and pulled it around Fletcher. “Hang in there. Let’s get you out of here.” He lifted Fletcher up and carried him to a rope that was hanging from the hole in the ceiling. Tying around his chest and under his arms, Naeku then stepped away and spoke into his radio.

  “I found him. Pull him up,” the Captain said.

  It was a slow, agonizing ascent back up through the ceiling hole and through the shaft where he’d originally lay. As he came to the exit of the shaft, several hands caught him and lowered him to the floor.

  Sergeant Johnston took the rope from around his chest and threw it back down the shaft while Ibara bent over him.

  “Jeez, kid. You’re soaked through. What happened?” he asked.

  Fletcher was shivering too much to get the words out as he tucked his arms close, ignoring the pain from the broken right arm.

  “I told you to stop causing problems,” his mother said from above.

  “I-I-I d-d-didn’t… m-m-mean…” he began. He cut himself off with a groan as Ibara tucked another jacket around him, jarring his injured arm.

  The man was then shining a light in his eyes, frowning. “A concussion too. We need to get him out of here, General.”

  “We’ll go as soon as we have Naeku,” Hazel said. She crouched down next to Fletcher. “[Read Thoughts]. Now just think through what happened if you can manage that much.” Her tone was unforgiving.

  Once again Fletcher felt his mother’s presence in his mind, an uncomfortable sensation that he hoped to never experience again. He wrapped his left arm closer, desperate for any warmth he might still be able to find and quickly relayed his tale of being found by the [Bloodhound] and then dropping onto the vrenfa and getting dumped into the river.

  She sighed and stood up. “That team of Unhumans we finished off just before this found him first. Let’s get to camp.”

  Naeku came out of the shaft and immediately bent down next to Fletcher. “You ready?”

  He nodded despite the fact he was dreading the pain that came from being carried. He felt like a sack of flour the way he was hauled around, but there weren’t any other options given he had no way of moving about himself.

  The hulking man pulled Fletcher up and over his shoulder just as he had before. Fletcher gasped and grimaced, the throbbing worse this time due to the increased number of injuries, even with [Frenzy] helping alleviate some of the pain.

  “We should go fast, General. The faster, the better,” Ibara mentioned.

  At that, they all took off at a jog instead of a walk. That meant Fletcher got jarred around even more, and he was starting to wish he had the gag back just to have something to bite on.

  He wasn’t sure how long they ran through the catacombs, but it was too long for his tastes. Even with the two jackets on, he was still freezing, and his body ached as he continued to shiver. It was pure misery. He was exhausted enough he didn’t even try looking around, content to stare at Naeku’s back as he bounced up and down.

  Eventually Fletcher realized they were out of the catacombs when a wind blew across him, sapping what little body heat he’d managed to regain. And he was still thoroughly soaked, which didn’t help matters. Despite it being mid-March, the weather remained as wintery as ever, with little chance of getting better anytime soon.

  It wasn’t too much longer before the pace slowed, and Fletcher let himself believe they might finally be someplace where he could rest and get warm.

  “Here. Get some blankets down and someone get the heater going. We need to dry him off and get him warmed up,” Ibara said.

  Fletcher remained on Naeku’s shoulder for another minute or so before the man gently lowered him onto some scratchy blankets with the heater nearby going full blast. Ibara was next to him in an instant, taking his pulse and feeling various parts of his skin.

  “He’s hypothermic. Someone needs to share body heat with him. That’s going to be the safest way to get him warmed up out here,” the Sergeant said.

  “But he’s conscious,” Naeku argued.

  “From the wial’os. There’s no way around that. Look, you and Simpson play rock-paper-scissors or something. Johnston, Sosa, help me get these bandages and clothes off,” Ibara ordered.

  Fletcher wanted to protest as the two women joined Ibara in cutting and then stripping off everything he wore, but he recognized that they weren’t going to listen to him anyway.

  When they reached for his underwear, he did speak up.

  “N-no. N-not a-a c-c-chance,” he said with a shaky voice. At least the shivering had stopped, but he still felt cold. So very cold. And it was hard to speak properly, his mind sluggish from the concussion and hypothermia.

  “We’re all adults here,” Johnston said with a smirk.

  He shook his head, grabbing Ibara’s scissors with his one good hand. “No.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Ibara smiled. “They’ll look away.”

  “W-wait,” Fletcher begged, but it was of no use.

  Johnston grabbed his hand and pulled him back as Ibara completed his work, leaving him butt-naked in the middle of the whole group.

  “This is the part that’s going to suck more,” Ibara warned, grabbing out another pair of underpants from deities’ knew where.

  The two women helped Ibara in pulling the new pair of drawers on Fletcher’s freezing body. It hurt a lot as they pulled the fabric over his broken, unsplinted legs. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as having two women he hardly knew dress his naked body. Fletcher decided that if hypothermia didn’t kill, the shame surely would.

  But it turned out the best was yet to come. Once they had the underwear on, Major Simpson came over, also in his underwear.

  “I lost. Let’s get this over with,” the man said.

  Ibara smiled and pulled out a blanket. “Cuddle up next to him, and I’ll cover you up.”

  “Y-you’ve g-g-gotta be k-kidding me,” Fletcher murmured. The never-ending embarrassment continued, spiraling to new depths.

  Simpson made a face and laid next to him, pulling their bodies close. “This isn’t my idea of a good time either, kid. It’d be a lot less weird if you were unconscious.”

  Ibara tossed several blankets over them, still grinning like an idiot. Yeah. Things probably couldn’t get much worse than this.

  “T-trust m-me. I’d p-prefer t-that t-t-too.” Fletcher closed his eyes and tried not to notice the other man next to him. He hated to admit it, but Simpson’s warmth did feel good, even if having the man close did jar his injuries and send waves of pain through his body on top of being one of the most awkward experiences in his life.

  They stayed that way for a while. Fletcher didn’t count the seconds, but he noticed that the shivering started up again and then lessened. He even became a little more clear-headed as the time passed.

  “That should be good, Major. We need to address his injuries and get them cleaned and bandaged then we’ll settle him near the heater under as many layers as we can spare,” Ibara said.

  “Finally,” Simpson murmured, pushing out from the blanket cocoon he shared with Fletcher.

  Fletcher immediately started shivering harder with the body heat taken from him. It got worse as Ibara tore the blankets off and knelt down with an open medical kit.

  Naeku and Johnston also knelt nearby, and Hazel even came to him.

  “This isn’t going to be fun, Fletcher. Sorry in advance,” Ibara warned.

  He then issued orders to the others, and Fletcher was subject to a three pronged attack. They did at least give him the courtesy of putting pants back on, though they cut open the lower legs to give them the space to properly splint his legs.

  Fletcher cried out when the real treatment started with Ibara dousing one of the injuries on his feet with antiseptic. With the bandages off, Fletcher got a real look at what’d been done to him. Both feet had obvious wounds from having daggers all the way through them, and Ibara and Johnston were completing a very thorough cleaning of them.

  While that was going on, Naeku used the antiseptic to clean the burn wounds along his abdomen.

  Acting on instinct, Fletcher grabbed his hand, pushing it away as the pain became too much. “Can you… just give me a sec?”

  But then his mother stepped in, grabbing his hand and pulling it back. “Let them work, Fletcher. We can’t afford the time to baby you.”

  Anger and hurt flashed through him, especially as he remembered her cold eyes watching him suffer only a few hours prior. But he didn’t get the chance to argue with her as Naeku returned to his work.

  When he yelped again, his mother put a hand over his mouth. “Careful. You’ll draw trouble straight to us.”

  Fletcher glared at her, gritting his teeth and digging his fingernails into her hand which still held his arm. Ibara and Johnston moved on from his feet to splinting to his legs, and Naeku finished wrapping the bandages around his abdomen. He was given a jacket with the right sleeve cut open, and then Naeku began work on the wounds on his arm from the vrenfa.

  It took a whole lot more time than Fletcher would have liked given how thorough they all were with their tasks, but eventually Ibara declared his care complete. His mother released his hand and his mouth, walking away without another word. If that was her way of showing she cared, it needed work—a lot of work.

  Ibara and Naeku worked together to get him situated in the right area where he was still close to the heater while also having a wall to lean against. His brain was a slush of pain and discomfort wrapped up in a heavy dose of embarrassment.

  “Next time, do everyone a favor and just shoot me,” Fletcher suggested as Ibara wrapped a third blanket around him.

  The man laughed. “Let’s just not have a next time, deal?”

  “I wouldn’t trust my luck for that,” he muttered. “Uh, how long will I be like this?”

  Ibara raised his eyebrows. “Broken bones don’t exactly heal overnight.”

  “I mean the wial’os. How long until I can sleep?”

  He made a face. “They gave you a big dose. I doubt it’ll wear off anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow night if you’re lucky, but most likely sometime in the morning the day after tomorrow.”

  “So no chance of sleeping tonight? Or even something for the pain?” Fletcher offered hopefully.

  “Sorry.” Ibara gave him a sad smile. “But on the bright side, think of all the quality you get with us. It’ll be fun.”

  Fletcher blew out a long breath. “That’s one word for it.”

  “Hang in there, Fletcher. I’ll come check on you in a bit. Try to rest.” Ibara patted his shoulder and walked away, leaving him alone.

  That gave Fletcher time to actually examine the area the camp was in now that he wasn’t on the verge of freezing to death or dying of embarrassment or in massive amounts of pain. His body ached all over, but [Frenzy] helped it from being overwhelming.

  They were out of the catacombs and in the city. It was a ruined building with walls on every side, though the doorway was broken to make a far wider entrance than it normally would have. The roof was mostly intact, but from where he sat, there was a small hole that allowed him to gaze up at the night sky. After all his patrols out to the ruins, it almost felt a little homey. Though he’d much prefer having Backup around to the company of his mother and her team.

  He got a long time to think while the majority of the others sat together in a circle a good distance away, discussing whatever important plans they had. Being the equivalent of cargo turned out to suck. If only he’d been lucky enough to make it back to the plane. Or if only he’d been sensible enough to check on George earlier, and then he could have been sure the [Insectoid] made it to the plane on time, and they would both be in Cape Town, far from this trouble.

  His chest tightened as he considered that he still didn’t even know what his fate was to be after this. He would have found out if he made it to Cape Town, but nobody here had mentioned anything. He thought about asking, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know yet, especially given the harsh words from his mother during their one personal meeting a week prior.

  After a while, the circle the others formed broke up. Naeku and Sosa both hefted rifles and exited the building, probably headed out to guard duty or a patrol. The others came back near the heater. They dug into supply crates which had obviously been placed there before they arrived. What on earth was going on? Did they plan to get captured by Unhumans? None of it made much sense to Fletcher, but his mother had made it clear he wouldn’t be getting any answers.

  Ibara came over with a set of rations—a bagged MRE and a water bottle.

  “Hungry?” the man asked.

  Fletcher shook his head. “No.”

  Ibara set it down. “Too bad. You need to eat.”

  He frowned as Ibara opened the MRE and several of its components.

  “There. Now all you have to do is stuff your face,” the sergeant declared.

  Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t think I can stomach it.” It wasn’t just the pain. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a rather long time from what he could remember of the blur since the original Unhuman assault against Vesi, and the idea of trying to accomplish that feat now made his stomach curdle.

  Ibara reached up and grabbed his mouth, using his fingers to squish his lips open and close as though he were speaking. “I think you mean, ‘oh great, thank you, Ibara! I’d love to eat since I recognize you spent a lot of energy patching me up and saving my life and the best way to thank you for that is making sure I properly fuel my body to stay alive.’”

  Fletcher knocked his hand away. “Fine. I’ll try.”

  “Good boy.” Ibara rubbed his head like he was a child.

  He made a face at the food and then looked back up at Ibara, a certain itch in his mind calling his attention now that he had a chance to sit for a moment. “I, uh, don’t suppose there’s any chance of me getting to smoke?”

  The man laughed heartily. “Not on your life.” He shook his head and walked away, still chuckling.

  Doing his best to fulfill his promise, Fletcher picked at the meal, taking slow, small bites. He was absolutely miserable. Everytime he thought his life hit rock bottom, something else happened to prove him wrong. Deities, he really really hoped this was as bad as it would get.

  What else could life throw at him now?