The taxi driver speeds with us on the highway. Finding him had been a miracle; and the fact that the kind man had stopped; so very willing to help, had made everything easier than I’d anticipated.
It could’ve been worse; I think to myself, shivering in the backseat of the taxi, soaking the seats with rainwater but God bless the driver he isn’t complaining.
Dmitri’s head is on my shoulder; his breathing shallow but even. Every now and then, I check his pulse and rub a hand over his arm to warm him up. I don’t think it does much, but I keep doing so anyways, and hoping we get to the pack house sooner.
Yes, the pack house because right before Dmitri passed out again, he insisted the taxi takes us to the pack house instead of a hospital. I believe it’s because Dr. Zara is more resourceful t
