Gaslight (Part 21)

“What sorta dreams?” The teen pressed, poking his back with the pipe to make sure he was still secured before fixing the blanket tighter around him.

Vas shook his head lazily. “Bad ones.” He repeated. “Bad … bad … dreams.”

“Stay awake,” she told him, pushing his shoulder lightly with her foot. “What’s your name?”

Vas scrunched his nose and grimaced. “Kind of a dumb question izzat …” He tried to laugh but that just hurt about as much as coughing.

“You got hit in the head, maybe you have insomnia,” she told him. “When you can’t remember nothing.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means …” Vas said, wondering if he was hearing things now. “... I wanna sleep just fine.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

“Like …” He chuckled. “...Philosophically? … ooohh i don’t feel good ...” He warbled.

“You might have a conclusion. And answer my ruttin’ question!” In fairness, if the teen weren’t cranky herself, she’d have realized his wise ass comments was him being the crew chief, but confirmation wouldn’t hurt.

“Ask better questions …” Vas sighed squirming to find a position that wasn’t painful.

“I feel like you’re not paying attention,” she said with an exasperated sigh, leaning her head back against the hull.

“Guilty.” Vas admitted slurring the word.

“That’s what happens when you rush, I suppose,” she said under her breath.

“Thats a lesson we both learned …” Vas said drifting out a bit.

“If you go to sleep you might not wake up, and that means I’ll have to put your initials on the tree by Walnut’s. And I haven’t got to the W’s in spelling yet.” His voice was still raspy, and his breaths had a wheezing sound, both on the inhale and out. “You want some water, Vas?”

Vas nodded lazily. “Hard not to fall asleep …”

“Well, try, Mr. Kogsworthski will get us back and someone’ll look at your head.” She told him, as she pulled a small bottle of water from the kit on the shuttle. “Slow, on account of you might throw up.” Getting closer, she could see some of the damage the pipe had inflicted. Gingerly, keeping her fingers away from the bite-zone, she tilted the bottle for him.

Vas tried not to gulp the water greedily. “How long has it been?” He asked when he had drunk enough, dropped his head lazily onto the floor. To him it had been like a blink. Fine one moment and the ties up, feeling like crap the next.

“You really don’t remember anything? [i]Anything?]/i]” She repeated for more emphasis.

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