by Keeley Smith
“How long has he been like this?”
Stephen could hear Lester’s question but he couldn’t open his eyes. Every part of his body felt immense pressure. He tried to move but gritted his teeth as unimaginable pain surged through his body.
“I don’t know. He’s been drifting in and out for a while. I thought he looked too pale earlier but he was talking so I thought he was okay.”
Talking, when had he been talking?
“Then when he fell asleep I just thought he was tired. He’s not well, is he?” Phillip’s concern voice filtered through the thick cloud of pain.
Stephen felt the last of his energy desert him. He hadn’t shown the others his injury for fear of making them panic. Well, now they were going to panic.
His body shook uncontrollably as it tried to ward off an intense heat, the infection that seemed to burn his skin. His sigh was silent when he felt Lester’s cool hands upon his fevered flesh.
“He’s sick, very sick, he could...” Lester’s voice faltered.
Stephen couldn’t hear anything other than the fire pop and cackle.
He was going to die and he couldn’t open his eyes to see his friends for the last time. He couldn’t find the right words to say goodbye.
“I can help him but he’s too weak to help me when my energy becomes drained and my light vanishes.”
“I will do it.” Phillip offered without hesitation. “But I thought only Stephen could help you?”
Stephen felt immediate gratitude to Phillip, and to Lester.
“He will just have to come and stop me,” Lester snapped.
Stephen slipped into a deep sleep feeling the cool hands of Lester’s on his feverous skin.
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