Through the haze of pain, I see Jonah sprinting toward me, leaving the relative safety of the truck. His face is pale with terror, but his movements are surprisingly decisive. Max barks frantically from inside the cab, throwing himself against the window.
“I'm fine,” I try to say, but the words come out slurred as Jonah reaches me, dropping to his knees beside me. His hands are steady as they grip my shoulders.
“I'm okay,” I say more clearly, though the pain radiating from my shoulder suggests otherwise. His hands move from my shoulders to my upper arm, fingers probing gently where the metal struck.
“You’re bleeding,” he warns, tension sharp in his words. “We need to get you back in the truck.”
The roar of the tornado grows louder, vibrating through my bones. I glance over Jonah’s shoulder and see it’s shifted again, veering north of us. Still too close, but no longer on a direct path.
“Help me up,” I manage, trying to push myself to my feet. My right arm refuses to cooperate, sending jagged pain through my shoulder when I try to use it.
Jonah slides an arm around my waist, taking my weight as I stand. The world tilts hard for a second, and I grab his shirt with my good hand to steady myself.
“Camera,” I mumble, searching for where it fell.
“Forget the camera,” he insists, already steering me toward the passenger side. “We can come back for it.”
The urgency cuts through the haze. I let him help me into the truck, wincing as my shoulder hits the door frame. Max lunges forward right away, whining as he licks my face.
“I'm okay, buddy,” I tell the dog, trying to push him back with my good arm.
Jonah gently pushes Max back, his hands unexpectedly authoritative with the dog. “Give her space, Max.”
The pain is radiating in waves now, and I can feel something warm and sticky spreading across my shirt. When I glance down, I see a growing dark stain. More blood than I expected.
“That's a lot of...” I trail off, suddenly feeling lightheaded.
“Don’t look at it,” Jonah snaps, already sliding into the driver’s seat. His movements are quick and sure—nothing like the hesitation from yesterday. “Keep pressure on it. Use this.”
He hands me a bundled flannel from his bag, glancing between me and the tornado churning too close for comfort. I press the fabric against my shoulder, hissing as it makes contact.
“Keys,” I manage.
“Already got them.” He starts the truck, throws it into drive, and accelerates back onto the road, gravel spraying behind us. The tires spin for a second before catching.
Max whimpers from the backseat, shaken by the chaos and the scent of blood. I try to turn to reassure him, but the movement sends another sharp wave of pain through my shoulder.
“Don’t move,” Jonah tells me, attention locked on the road as he steers us away. “How bad is it?”
“Just a cut,” I lie, though the throbbing says otherwise. My head feels hazy, like my thoughts are wrapped in cotton. The pain pulses with each heartbeat, spreading from my shoulder down my arm.
Jonah glances at me, then back to the road. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I'm an excellent liar,” I protest weakly. “You just caught me on an off day.”
He accelerates, putting distance between us and the tornado with a confidence I wouldn't have expected from him two days ago. His hands are steady on the wheel. The professor is gone, replaced by someone who knows exactly what needs to be done.
“I need to get you to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” I manage, pressing the flannel harder against my wound. “Just need a first aid kit. I've patched worse.”
“That's not a decision you get to make right now.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “You're losing blood, possibly going into shock, and I'm not letting you DIY a serious injury in some motel bathroom.”
Max whines from the backseat, his nose nudging my elbow. The concern in those brown eyes nearly undoes me. How is it that after everything this dog has been through, he's worried about me?
“It's okay, buddy,” I murmur.
The world goes soft around the edges, like someone’s erasing the lines of reality. Jonah’s face blurs above me, his words muffled and distorted like they’re reaching me through water.
