Portia
I carry two cups of coffee into Antonio's room. Callahan is sitting across from his bed watching him. Maybe willing him to open his eyes. To wake up.
Callahan is alive. Battered and bruised, his hearing comes and goes but he's alive. The blast had knocked him out. For a minute, I thought he was gone, really gone this time, but he's back.
He looks over at me, stands. I take in the bandages I can see on his arms, his neck, the side of his head and I'm sure he does the same with mine.
But it could be worse.
I glance at Antonio.
“You need to let the doctor look at you again,” I tell him.
"After." Smears of blood and dirt still stain his clothes and skin. I know most of it isn't his at least.
He takes one of the cups of coffee and leads me to a chair. He sits down beside me, and
