The road was bumpy- everything in the truck seemed to bounce and shake just a little whenever a wheel met a pothole. Well- everything except for the watch. It remained hanging at the end of its taut chain, almost seeming to hover. It was a pretty watch, yeah- but it managed to be almost hypnotic when the sunlight played over its engraved silver surface. Jacob had found himself looking at it a lot.
"Thinkin'about him, again?" the other man in the truck said as he turned them down a slightly less bumpy dirt road.
"What do you think, hardhat?" the younger man replied, his tone unusually subdued.
"I think," Raymond started, stealing a quick glance at the former Scout before returning his attention to the road, "a penny for yer thoughts."
Jacob smirked just a little at that- a small, somewhat devious half-smile; it was all he could manage at the moment. "Make it a quarter, and you've got a deal." A faint grumble from
Comorbidity Part 15
It was unlike the Scout to be unable to find words to say. Hell, when he couldn't think of words to say he didn't think, he just spoke. It was like his mouth wouldn't work, though- like his brain had sort of short-circuited, and, damn, it sort of felt nice having the Medic there- sort of safe, even. Hell, his own dad had never hugged him- wherever that asshole was.
Still, he wasn't some little kid, and this was getting really awkward, and the words, 'get offa' me, fag,' were about to escape him, but- jeez, was the guy seriously crying?
"Uh Doc?" there were the words, quiet and concerned enough that they even seemed to startle the runner. "You okay?"
The Medic tensed up a little at hearing his voice and pulled back looking like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was sure as hell a lot different than the guy usually was- determined, and professional, and somehow inhumanly fearless- not to
Comorbidity Part 14
It seemed so inconsistent in this place- sometimes so fast that it was a wonder what had happened to the hours, and sometimes so slow that it felt like it didn't move forward at all. The doctor hated that inconsistency. Worse, however, was the fact that he could not attribute these stretches and compressions of time to any particular activity, or time of day.
Fleischer had quickly discovered that one of the only constants was the relationship between work and survival. Though the doctor was a big man, he was generally also one of relative subtlety and self-control. There were amazing subtleties, he had quickly discovered, in the ways a person could swing a hammer or pickaxe- subtleties that made all the difference between leaving the quarry exhausted and a little achy, or unbearably sore and ready to drop. Subtleties made all the difference between a safe downward swing and one that could pull and tear muscles. An