Four times, he thinks. This is four times the gates have stayed closed. Will there be five more?
There may or may not actually be reproach in her voice, but he hears it all the same and looks down, shame twisting in his gut as he stares at his beloved V-8. It's ruined now, at least temporarily, bisected by a swathe of bloody bandage, and all he can think is--
"Why?" He lies back again and stares at the light mottled on the ceiling. "Why bring me back?" Why waste bandages and medicine and water on a War Boy at the end of his half-life who just doesn't know how to die?
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There may or may not actually be reproach in her voice, but he hears it all the same and looks down, shame twisting in his gut as he stares at his beloved V-8. It's ruined now, at least temporarily, bisected by a swathe of bloody bandage, and all he can think is--
"Why?" He lies back again and stares at the light mottled on the ceiling. "Why bring me back?" Why waste bandages and medicine and water on a War Boy at the end of his half-life who just doesn't know how to die?