The truck rattled down the uneven dirt road, every bump jarring through Adrian’s weakened body. I kept my arm around him, holding him steady, but each groan that slipped past his lips cut deeper into me. His skin was clammy, his breath shallow. He needed proper care—and soon.
The driver, who introduced himself as Carl, kept glancing at us in the rearview mirror. His face was weathered by sun and work, his eyes sharp but kind. “Not every day I see two folks stumbling out of the woods like that,” he said, his voice rough with suspicion. “You running from something?”
I stiffened, my fingers tightening around Adrian’s hand. “We just… got lost. My friend was hurt. We were looking for help.”
Carl grunted, clearly unconvinced but not pushing. “Well, you’ll find a doctor in town. Place is small
