most of the work. Once we have his blood sample, the machine will know what to look for and will extract it.”
I was thankful that we had the Galla clinic and that Maverick had the foresight to research beforehand. I swayed once again and rested my forehead on Cyler’s shoulder. "When was the last time you ate anything?" he asked.
"I don't know. I feel weak, but it's the least of our worries right now."
Kemper must've heard our conversation, because he stopped working to rifle through his backpack. Within moments he was stalking towards me and handing me a canteen of the deadlands water and a protein bar. The liquid burned while going down; we had sourced it from a river deeper in the deadlands than usual. I could taste the tangy acid on my tongue, but I still drink all of it.
"Eat. You won't be able to help if you pass out." Cyler’s words were gruff, and I sensed that he was on edge. All of my men cared so deeply for one another, and not knowing if Maverick was going to survive was getting to us.
I slowly ate the protein bar while threading my fingers through Cyler’s hand. Kemper had a list made up and, within minutes, had sent Jacob and Patrick on their way.
"Maverick’s awake," Kemper said after a while. I stood up after squeezing Cyler’s hand and went to the quarantine door.
"Maverick, let me in," I said before banging on the glass. I didn't worry about catching the infection, I was immune after all. And I'd be damned if I let him go through this alone. I stared at the look of indecision on his face and found myself thinking how odd it was that we’d come full circle. I couldn't help but remember being in the Dormas clinic with him when we first met, easing that Walker woman to her death with grace and compassion. Maverick cared so deeply for humanity, but if this was his last night alive, I was going to make sure that he was given the same courtesy.
Maverick’s movements were slow as he stood. I could see the way his muscles were weak as he pulled himself up and staggered towards the control panel. He gave me one look, and I saw the indecisiveness in his face. I could tell that he didn't want me to see him this way, but his love for me overruled that fleeting insecurity in the end. He loved me too much to not spend whatever time he could with me.
Once the door opened, I quickly went inside and allowed him to shut it. There was a boil on his arm that had started to bleed, but I didn't care. I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, making him cough at the force of it.
"How do you feel?" I asked. I guided him to a chair in the corner and helped him sit down. I was about to go back to the door and asked Kemper for more water, but he wrapped his fingers around my wrist before pulling me to his lap. He cradled me, pressing his feverish skin against my neck as he moaned.
"You're really here, right?" he asked. I could hear the cracks in his voice as he spoke, and it broke my heart.
"I'm really here, Maverick. Tell me what I can do."
It was killing me, seeing this disease claim him like this. I wished that I could just wake Payne up and get the ball rolling on this cure. There was so much that hung in the air. What if his blood didn't work? What if the instructions weren't clear? What if we didn't get him the cure in time?
"Just stay right here with me," he said. "Don't leave me. Tell me a story."
He rocked a little back-and-forth, and I felt his blistered lips touch my skin. We were sweaty, exhausted, and he was covered in blisters that were starting to bleed, but I let his sickness seep into my clothes. I didn't care. Love didn't crave perfection. It desired the connection.
"You want to hear a story?" I asked. It was an odd request, and I found myself filtering through my memories as a child. Nothing seemed to measure up. It was almost like my life began when I moved to Dormas. Every cherished thought, every meaningful interaction happened after I met my men.
“You’ve been a part of all my best stories, Maverick. Sometimes I wonder if my life