A gentle nudge to the shoulder wakes Savant from increasingly tangled and frustrating dreams. There's rain pounding down around their shelter and intermittent brightness against his closed lids. He aches much more than he believes he should. Savant grimaces and blinks awake
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He should have waken Savant an hour ago to take his pills, but decided to let him sleep for a while longer. The confusion on his face just then showed that might prove a mistake. He still looks a little disoriented.
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It only takes a moment to backtrack things in his mind: mother is dead. There wasn't a chance to say good-bye, to let her know that all was good between them. One simple thing. It was not too much to ask, he thought, but apparently it had been. Kenneth Durlin's fault. He'd taken something that wasn't his and couldn't be given back, and he was going to pay for it.
Events fall back into place rather easily after that. Hopefully he can keep things that way for a while, at least until the pills steady things.
"You look like hell," Savant says bluntly. "If you're not going to let me drive, at least pull over at the next motel. I need you alert. We can manage a couple of hours of rest."
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"It tends to be darker up here. Almost like Russia."
He doesn't reminisce very often. There's not much to do it about. But he likes this small reminder of home.
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