Page 58 of Obey

The water shows no sign of going clear, that’s for sure. I take the shower head from him again and step in, closer to the drain. I rinse myself quickly, getting a layer off, before going back to running it over the rest of his body.

It’s slow-going, but between the water and liberal amounts of soap and shampoo, we do eventually get clean. I run my hands all over him, making sure to get all of the dirt. This contact should be sexy, but I’m too worried to get hard.

When we’re finally done, he glances at me. “You should get out first. I’ll probably need your help getting out of the tub without slipping,” he says, reluctance heavy in his voice.

I know he doesn’t like depending on me for anything—and I wouldn’t like it if I was in his shoes either—but part of me does appreciate that he’ll actually let me.

I get out, grab towels with my now clean hands, and quickly dry myself off before I help Maddox. He stands on the bathmat, swaying, as I work the second and then third towel over him to get him as dry as possible.

The wound looks even worse now that I can see it clearly.

“Here,” I say, wrapping a towel around his waist.

He looks down, too, and he grimaces. “Wow,” he says, almost conversationally. “That really does look bad, doesn’t it?”

I glare at him, but it doesn’t change the fact that it does. “The doctor will patch you up,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “And hopefully not ask too many questions about a gunshot wound.” He sighs. “C’mon. Get your ass into a towel so you can help me to her.”

I use the biggest towel I can find and just barely get it around myself. It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. If I end up flashing some small town people, so be it.

When I open the door, I see the doctor standing down the hall, talking to Jim and some other woman. They all turn to glance our way.

“Oh, finally,” Sheryl says. “Jim brought food and clothes.”

“I brought food!” the other woman says. “Jim just gossiped to everybody while I prepared it.”

“I transported it!” Jim shakes his head. “Anyway, clothes.” He approaches, carrying several sets of t-shirts and sweatpants. “Didn’t know what size would fit.”

Great. We’re the talk of the entire small town. I guess nothing this exciting usually happens around here. In New Bristol, there are probably ten people shot every day.

“Thanks,” Maddox says, and I’m not sure whether he’s blushing or if his cheeks are flushed from a potential fever.

We duck back into the bathroom to get dressed, but he doesn’t pull on a shirt.

“May as well wait,” he explains, even though I understand without being told. “I’m sure she’ll just want it off to look at the wound anyway.”

None of them say anything when Maddox returns shirtless. The woman, who introduces herself as Rebecca, hands us both sandwiches and bottles of water. Sheryl shepherds Maddox into a nearby exam room.

Which leaves me to clean up all the messes.

“How’d you get shot?” Rebecca asks as she watches me mop the hallway.

“I didn’t get shot. My friend did,” I answer, hoping I manage to keep my tone even.

“Okay, so how’d he get shot?” she asks. I try to stay silent, but she says, “Come on. I brought you all this food. Jim got you here. Sheryl is patching your buddy up. You owe us this story.”

I glance at Jim, and he shrugs. “Beccs is pretty insistent.”

I sigh. “Fine. We were out on the swamp, trying to nature watch. We got turned around, and encroached on somebody’s property. The guy wouldn’t listen, just shot us and kept saying the government had no right to his money.”

Rebecca starts laughing. “For real? It wasn’t that fucking gang that set up there?”

I startle. “What do you mean, the gang?”

Jim makes a disgusted sound. “Some gang of bikers. They moved in a few months back, claimed parts of the swamp and keep harassing people on the roads. We try to avoid them, but they come in and sell their damn meth…”

So they deal in drugs as well as guns. I figured as much, because our organization has more than just one source of income too, but it’s good to have it confirmed. It’s better to know what we’re up against.

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