Free Storm Season by Nessa L. Warin

again and winced as the effects of the previous day made themselves known. There was a gash on his right foot that throbbed when he flexed his toes, and bruises and scrapes too numerous to count. His shoulders were still tight, though thankfully his headache had vanished while he slept.
    Gingerly, he stood, braced for additional pain as he moved, but none came, and he breathed a sigh of relief, the knowledge he could move freely making him feel marginally better. At least he wouldn’t have to take extra care every time he moved, though he would when he walked, a fact that became clear as he shifted his weight onto his damaged foot.
    As he put on a shirt, Jasper considered waking Tobias, but stopped before he touched the sleeping man’s shoulder. Tobias looked terrible. The feet that stuck out from under the blanket were covered with multiple lacerations, and red marks on his ankles disappeared up under the cover. His torso was dotted with smaller, shallower cuts, and deep purple bruises had appeared around his wrists and right elbow. Small oval-shaped bruises dotted his torso, likely from exposure to the storms. His face was drawn, worried even in sleep, and a thin line of dried blood crossed his forehead above his left eye.
    Tobias slept the deep sleep of the ill or injured, and looked as though he wouldn’t wake for several more hours. It was best to just leave him be.
    After tugging the blanket to better cover Tobias, Jasper slipped out of the safe room, quietly shutting the door behind him, and headed down to see what Darius and Carla had managed to salvage from the wreck of his kitchen. Food, company, and distraction made up the perfect recipe to keep his mind off the man he’d left sleeping in his bed.
     
     
    T WO hours later, the debris was completely swept up, the cabinets fixed, and the door almost reattached. All that remained was to go into town and obtain replacement dishes, and that could wait until they’d taken care of Tobias’s injuries. Jasper, Darius, and Carla were sitting at the table, debating if they should wake him when Kyree’s ears perked up and Jasper heard the tell-tale groan of the ninth stair, the one he’d been intending to fix while trapped inside this wet season. “Tobias?” he called out, though there was little question as to who was on the steps. “We’re back in the kitchen.”
    The tread on the stairs was easier to hear when it started again, a slow gait Jasper was certain had to reflect the agony Tobias’s feet must be in. It was amazing Tobias was walking at all, as cut up as they were, and Jasper didn’t expect to see him in the kitchen for several minutes.
    He most definitely did not expect to hear the squeak of the front door being opened.
    “Is he…?”
    Jasper didn’t wait to hear if Darius finished the question. He dropped the screws he’d been holding on the table as he hurried by. The front door was swinging shut as he crossed the front room.
    He caught up with Tobias on the porch, loosely grabbing his fingers to stop him. “What are you doing?”
    Tobias flinched when Jasper touched him, but didn’t move away. I’m going to Shaleton. I have to find Sam.
    Jasper looked him up and down, not believing his eyes. Tobias was dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when Jasper first found him―pants that had holes at nearly every seam, a too-thin torn shirt, and shoes held together with more hope than stitches or glue. He would be lucky to last a night dressed like that, particularly not after the experience he’d just had, and he would never make it all the way to Shaleton. “You can’t.”
    I have to.
    “Why now? You seemed happy to have shelter before those men came.”
    Because they came! Tobias moved forward, pulling his fingers free of Jasper’s hand.
    “Do you even know where Shaleton is?”
    Tobias shook his head, but didn’t stop inching along the porch, though each step clearly caused him great agony. Both his hands were clenched into fists,