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braces his hands against it. With his back to Samuel, he swallows hard enough that I see his Adam’s apple bob. Michael sends the other nurse away, saying I’ll be assisting him instead. I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a slight head shake. The second she’s gone he pulls an instrument out of his pocket. I may not be the best trained Shifter, but I definitely know the object in Michael’s hand is not from this time period. Because it’s not even invented in my time. I’ve only seen it in Keleusma.
    “Is that …?”  I peek over at Samuel. He passed out right after Michael spoke to him, so it’s not like he’s going to see the Keleusma medical equipment.
    Michael presses the thing that looks like a white remote control to Samuel’s neck. “For pain,” he whispers. “I wish I could do more.”
    Samuel’s breathing evens, so I risk another glance his way. Big mistake. Some small white chunks flow out of the wound in Samuel’s head. Brain?
    My ears start to ring, and I can’t hear anything else. Sweat gathers on the back of my neck, my arms, my chest. A wave of nausea hits me so hard I have to grasp the wall to keep the shudder from knocking me off balance.  
    Michael crosses the room and is at my side in under a second. One arm comes around my shoulders. The other takes hold of my hand. “Sit down. Slump against the wall. Easy now.”
    “I’m fine. Help him.” Even as I say the words, I’m scooting down the wall and black dots march into my line of vision.
    “I have. As much as I can.” Michael applies pressure to the back of my head. “Put your head between your knees. There. Like that. Good. Take some deep breaths for me.”
    I shove my palms against my eyes. “The air smells so gross.”
    “It’s infection. Gangrene. The smell is awful, but it won’t hurt you.” He massages my shoulder. “Breathe.”
    I force oxygen into my lungs, and a few minutes later my skin begins to cool, and my vision clears. I bring my head back up, lean it against the wall, and roll it to the side to look at Michael. “Is he dead?”
    Michael rakes his hand through his hair and then nods once, slowly.
    “You used one of Darnell’s medical tools on him.”
    He leans toward me, tucking the object in question back into his pocket. “They don’t just belong to Darnell. He’s not the only medic in Keleusma.”
    “Okay. You get what I mean though. That thing is not from this time.”
    He stares forward. “I’m not a real doctor.” The muscle in his jaw pops. “I wouldn’t be any help without it.”
    “Michael Pace, breaking the rules?” I bump my shoulder into his. “Since when?”
    “Since.” He finally tilts his head to face me. The look in his eyes is so intense it sends an army of treacherous ants racing through my stomach. He licks his cracked lips. “Since a little bit ago.”
    After Michael scrubs his hands, arms, and face in a large sink and gives orders to a few other men to have Samuel removed and placed among those going to burial, he takes my hand and leads me far from the building to a small city of white tents. The sun is setting, and nighttime creeps in while he explains that the medical staff and some of the soldiers who aren’t on the front line live in this area. The men at the front line make their homes in shell-proof dugouts near the trenches. Down a row and after a turn, he tugs me into the tent where he’s been staying. Since they believe he’s a doctor, Michael’s allotted his own small living space to sleep in, as opposed to the soldiers and orderlies who sleep in larger, open tents with rows of cots.
    He closes the flap to the front of his tent, stands, and then tugs me into a fierce embrace without any warning. Air whooshes out of my lungs, and a few kinks in my back make popping noises as he holds me. But I don’t care. Being in his arms brings on the same feeling I get when I take refuge in my bedroom after a stressful day. He loosens his hold only to