Duress (A Bad Batch Fanfic Book 2)

Neither of them got much sleep.

It was uncomfortably cold in the hut. Even with the blanket Crosshair had given her, Saedii shivered all night. Miserable. Every twitch of her body sent pain up and down her body, searing her nerve endings like a lightning strike.

Crosshair didn't fare much better. He couldn't seem to get comfortable beside her and kept adjusting his weight. Gingerly, he kept pulling at the bandages around his chest, but they didn't seem to offer much reprieve.

They didn't speak. Neither seemed to have the energy for it. Saedii could just imagine how tired Crosshair felt after carrying her for hours through the desert heat. She was tired, too, and eventually leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It was better than resting it against the hard wall at her back.

The hours passed slow. Little bursts of sleep took her, never for longer than an hour or more, and each time she woke, she felt more tired than she had before. No dreams were there to hold her when her eyes closed, and when she woke, there was only pain and cold to greet her. The night dragged.

Sometime around dawn, she slipped back into a light sleep. When she woke, the sun had nearly crested the horizon and Crosshair was nowhere to be seen. The blanket had been pulled up to her chin and the water jug had been left within easy reach.

She blinked in the growing light. The fire in her head had died down, fading to a low throbbing. Still painful enough that standing didn't feel like a good idea, but better than before.

If the pain in her chest had gotten better, she couldn't tell. The pressure was immense, like someone had parked a Destroyer on her chest. Each breath that whistled down her throat felt like it was barbed and boiling hot. She swallowed, tasting stale blood at the back of her tongue.

Heat was starting to press into the air. With every inch the sun won from the dark, its warmth pushed forward, suffocating the already dry and barren land. A strip of light filtered in through the small window, stretching across the floor in a wash of brilliant orange.

Saedii's throat felt dry. When she licked her lips, she found them parched and cracked. She needed water, but she knew they needed to save it. The jug remained untouched.

A small sound outside drew her attention. She looked up as Crosshair limped heavily inside, face red and sweaty. A cracked bowl was in his hands.

His movements were far too slow and awkward. She zeroed in on his abdomen, which he kept rigid and straight, and his left leg, which dragged. Broken ribs, she thought. Maybe his leg, too.

How had he managed to carry her and all his gear?

"You should sit," she rasped. Her voice sounded terrible, like she'd caught a cold or smoked too much drathroot.

"I'm fine." His tone was brusque. He deposited the bowl's contents onto the ground.

It was underwhelming. A few dirty jars. A clay mug. Some scraps of metal.

"What's that?" Saedii asked. Maybe her head wound wasn't as healed as she'd thought, but it all looked like junk to her. Nothing that could help them.

He spread out the scraps of metal, brushing off caked dirt. "I'm putting these on the roof. If there are any passing ships, it should draw their attention."

Right. Because there were so many ships going by. But it was better than nothing, at least.

"And the rest?"

"I'm putting it on the roof. In case we get rain."

Saedii turned to the window. To the blue sky that reached into the far distance. Not a single cloud in view.