The pain was so intense he rolled to his side just in time to spew out whatever he’d consumed that day. He couldn’t remember exactly what he had eaten, and it worried him. He raised his hand to his forehead. It didn’t come away with blood. The blood had dried. He had been lying there for a while. The events of the past few hours returned to him, and he remembered Steven and his rifle. He had no weapons, no night-vision goggles, and nothing to eat. He had to get moving before his energy left him or Steven found him. Mark tried to force himself up but nearly collapsed from the pain. Everything hurt, from his toes to his head. He rolled to the side and lifted himself up on both elbows. Then his palms, then his knees. He let out a groan so loud he felt like a ninety-year-old man. Though the pain was ever-present, he could get into a kneeling position, which meant nothing major was broken. A quick evaluation of the pain told him he had at least torn something in his right shoulder and possibly fractured a rib.
