Joseph by Kris Michaels

shirt off his shoulder and down his arm. The atrocity of his wounds lay bare to her eyes. She reached out a hand almost touching the multitude of injuries, scabs and remodeling tissue that covered his chest, shoulder, and ribs. “Oh, God, Joey. Who did this to you? These wounds?”
    He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Shhh. We can talk about that later. Will you get me a t-shirt out of my pack? I’ll pull over and put it on and we’ll ditch these clothes.”
    “Who did this? They tortured you. Didn’t they?”
    He slowed down and pulled to the side of the road. Putting the car in park, he cupped her face in his large hands. “Ember, I exist in a dangerous world. The important thing is I’m here with you now and you’re safe.”
    He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly, almost reverently.
    His forehead rested on hers. Short panting breaths brought her eyes back to his face. His color was almost ghostly white as he whispered, “Em, baby, please get me a shirt out of my pack, moving right now is not enjoyable.”
    She nodded and leaned over the seat getting a black t-shirt. He unbuttoned the other sleeve and pulled the jacket off. His shoulder holster came off next followed by the white dress shirt. Em helped him take off the shirt and saw the devastating injuries that marred his back. The damage to his flesh had barely healed in some places. In others, infection and untreated wounds wept. She helped him pull on a t-shirt and his shoulder holster.
    Joseph nodded to the back. “There are some jeans, hiking boots, and a black button down. Pull them out for me will you?”
    She retrieved the clothes, helped him take off his shoes and pull down his slacks.
    “Damn it, can you loosen the bandage? I can’t breathe.” His small huffs for air paid stark testimony to his complaint.
    Em assessed him and reacted immediately. She lifted his eyelids. The extreme dilation of his pupils told her he needed help and stat. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the headrest. She took his pulse and mentally logged the other symptoms he presented. “Joey, what are you taking for the pain?”
    He shook his head keeping his eyes closed. “Nothing now. At first, I was given some locally milled heroine. That kept the pain from driving me crazy until I got to civilization. I’ve been eating oxycodone since then. But, I quit taking them.”
    He struggled with his jeans and she semi-straddled him helping him snap and zip the Levis. “Cold turkey, Joey? When did you stop?”
    “Yesterday, when I got back to the States. I was going to detox in the hotel room. I didn’t have time to get anymore after you called.”
    “Joey, move over into the passenger seat. I’m driving, you need to rest.”
    He shook his head, “No.”
    “Damn it to hell, Joey. You’ve been shot. You’re going through withdrawal and if we get pulled over we have stolen plates. Let’s not forget to mention you have a concealed weapon...or should I say cannon? What the hell is that thing?” Ember’s eyes flashed as she moved him towards the passenger seat.
    As he started to answer, she threw up her hand to silence him. “No! Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just slide over and let me drive.”
    He lurched for the passenger door throwing it open just in time to vomit on the side of the highway. Ember let him void his stomach as she rolled up his bloody shirt, jacket and slacks and put them back in his pack. She picked up the black button down shirt and waited for him to sit up. She handed him the water bottle, “Rinse your mouth out.” When he returned the bottle, she helped him put on the shirt, covering the shoulder holster.
    After adjusting the seat and mirrors, she pulled out onto the interstate. With a flick of her finger, she put the car on cruise control at the posted speed. She grabbed his hand. A firm pull tugged his head to her thigh.
    Stroking his sweat-dampened hair from his face, she automatically detected the