Page 56 of Obey

I nod. Even if I couldn’t, I’d figure it out.

Maddox is pretty out of it when I get him to stand, and he almost tips over the side of the boat before I get him onto the pier. “Fuck, sorry,” he says, wincing. He leans heavily against me as we walk up the slope to the road, though I can tell he’s struggling.

And he’s definitely in pain.

Infection shouldn’t have set in that fast, but then, swamp water and mud had practically been packed into the wound. It doesn’t help that we’re both exhausted, dehydrated, and hungry even after going through the supplies on the boat we’d taken from Boar’s lackey.

“I’m Jim, by the way,” the guy says as he opens the tailgate.

I don’t blame him for not wanting either of us inside his truck, even if it isn’t in the best condition. Jim shoves some fishing supplies aside so I can help Maddox up.

“I’m Nayeem,” I say, bracing myself for some remark about the name.

Jim nods. “Okay. Nayeem. And him?”

He didn’t pronounce it quite right, but I’ll take it. Better than the intentional mangling I’d gotten when I was young.

“That’s Maddox.” I settle against the back and pull Maddox against me.

We’re maybe a little too close for the delicate sensibilities of Southerners, but Jim doesn’t do more than give us a sidelong look as Maddox rests his head against my shoulder. Maddox closes his eyes, shivering despite the heat.

Jim firmly closes the tailgate, then gets into the front of the truck.

Every bounce and jerk of the truck makes Maddox flinch, even though I can tell he’s trying his hardest not to show he’s in pain.

“Hey, we’ll get clean soon,” I say, resisting the urge to kiss Maddox’s head. “You’ll be patched up. Then we can say fuck all this bullshit.”

“I’m just glad I’m not handcuffed to you anymore,” he says with a huff, offering me a strained smile. “You fucking stink, you know that?”

“You don’t exactly smell like roses either,” I retort.

“Good thing. Roses make me think of grandmothers,” he says, though his laugh is cut short by a bump in the road. “Fuck,” he hisses.

I take in as much of the area as I can. Drier than the fucking swamp, at least, but it’s clear we’re still out in the boonies. Over an hour to the closest hospital? That’s abysmal.

I can’t exactly check how long we’ve been driving, but soon the road becomes a bit more paved, and we end up in what I guess could be considered a main street. The houses are small and a bit rundown, needing maintenance, and they’re all sitting on stilts.

We turn at a stop sign, and I realize I haven’t seen any traffic lights at all. I guess if the place is small enough, there’s no need for them.

The truck pulls into a gravel driveway. There’s a small building with a sign reading “clinic” on it, and the universal medical symbol. I guess this is the doctor’s place.

The door opens before Maddox and I can get off the truck bed. An older woman with graying hair steps outside. She scowls at us. “Did you go rolling in the mud on purpose?”

I bite back the anger. “Not on purpose, Ma’am.”

“Doctor,” she corrects.

“Sheryl, don’t be like that,” Jim says. He comes around to lower the tailgate. “The smaller guy’s in bad shape.”

“I’m fine,” Maddox says, and it would almost be believable if he wasn’t so pale beneath all the mud.

I glare daggers at him. “You are not fine,” I tell him, helping him out of the truck bed.

He scoffs at me, but he deflates a little when he looks at the doctor’s expression. “I didn’t go get shot in the middle of nowhere on purpose, Doctor.”

Sheryl’s eyes widen. “You got shot? Where? I can’t see anything beneath the mud.”

I point to Maddox’s arm. “There. It was a shotgun, I think. Yesterday. We got stranded in the swamp for a bit.”

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