I frowned and shifted so I could move my good arm. I placed my palm on his forehead, completely trusting.
Just as I suspected, he was burning with fever.
“You have a fever, Alexander,” I told him sharply.
“I know. Since last night.”
“It’s the infection, right?” I asked, and he nodded slowly. “Then why don’t you go to your doctor and let him remove those bullets once and for all?” I scolded him, angry. “Do you want to die and leave your children alone? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Enduring it. I’ve endured fifteen days—quite a record for anyone of my kind.”
He laughed at the end of the sentence. The bastard laughed.
I felt like pushing him away and screaming at him to get those bullets treated—that I was furious and couldn’t fathom his ridiculous sense of valor. I didn’
