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I came to myself briefly as I was being lifted into a carriage, and caught a glimpse of a hand I knew as well as my own, the familiar scars standing out white against an unfamiliar tan. But I could not trace the hand to the face before the prick of a hypodermic needle sent me back into darkness.
When next I woke I was in a world of white sheets and carbolic, and Dr. Ives was standing by my bed. For a moment, I thought myself back in Peshawar, still gripped by typhoid fever.
"Was it all a dream?"
Author's Notes: Ives is borrowed from Pompey's stories "On Afghanistan's Plains" and for this story, "The Covenant and the Oath". For the "playing in another sandbox" prompt at wwoes. Follows Tremors.
When next I woke I was in a world of white sheets and carbolic, and Dr. Ives was standing by my bed. For a moment, I thought myself back in Peshawar, still gripped by typhoid fever.
"Was it all a dream?"
Author's Notes: Ives is borrowed from Pompey's stories "On Afghanistan's Plains" and for this story, "The Covenant and the Oath". For the "playing in another sandbox" prompt at wwoes. Follows Tremors.
