SHE DROVE FOR MORE than an hour, not liking the way Wyatt got quieter and paler as time passed. Enough was enough, and she made a decision, exiting at the next available turnoff. It was for a small farm town, and she drove straight through, looking at the buildings around her. Within two miles, they were so sparse as to be almost nonexistent. When she saw a barn standing by itself, looking weathered, but not yet dilapidated, she turned the truck down the bumpy gravel road, which caused Wyatt to stir.
He lifted his head from the window with a frown. “What’s going on?”
“We need to stop. If you’re not going to heal yourself, I have to try to do something about your wounds. You’re bleeding too much, and you’re going to let yourself die.” She spoke the words angrily, beyond empathy at his pre
