Page 173 of Famine
“I don’t know. I think if we can douse the cut in alcohol that might help.”
Already, I’m cringing at the thought.
No sooner have I said it, then the horseman heads for the small collection of wines, beer, and some more potent liquor behind the counter, not sparing the dead man next to him a passing glance.
While he’s back there, I grab a glass container of rubbing alcohol from the shelf. I take a deep breath while I look at it.
This is going to hurt.
Famine comes back, holding a bottle of rum and a corkscrew. I let him open the bottle and hand it to me.
Rather than pouring it over my neck, I take a long drink from it, my stomach churning at the taste.
Too soon—muchtoo soon—for more liquor.
I set the rum on a nearby shelf then unstop the rubbing alcohol in my hand, passing it to Famine.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Rubbing alcohol—to pour on my wound.”
The horseman looks confused. I guess he’s never realized there was a difference between the alcohol human’s drink, and the stuff used purely to disinfect.
“Why are you giving it to me?” he asks.
“I need you to do it. I—I don’t think I have the courage to do it myself.”
Famine scowls at the bottle, then looks at me. Faster than I can follow, he tilts my chin and dumps the rubbing alcohol on the cut.
“Fuck!” I hiss out, my legs nearly folding. “Motherfuckingfuck!”
I gasp out a few breaths, eyes pricking at the excruciating burn. It feels like my wound is on fire.
I glare at him. “You could’ve warned me.”
“You’re overestimating how nice I am.”
I make a face, but honestly, the man has a point.
I stare at the now-empty bottle in Famine’s hand. Hopefully that does the trick.
I take a deep breath. “Let me just grab some gauze, and then we can get going.”
“Get going?” the horseman says. “Not while you’re hurt. Tonight, we’re staying here.”
Chapter 43
My neck wound is not fine.
Not at all.
I first realize that shortly after I wake up the next morning, my body coated in sweat.
My cut throbs, and when I prod at it, pain lashes through me. More than that, I feel a little unwell.
It … might be infected.
I get up and find the compact mirror I used yesterday to get a good look at it. Once I remove the gauze bandages, I angle the mirror towards the cut.
