"Breakfast time!" said the now-familiar voice.
He opened his eyes to daylight. The cow was back. She had awakened him periodically during the night to feed him warm broth. He wondered if she had set an alarm to rouse her to the task. No matter. He had gulped whatever she had offered, then returned to sleep.
Though he felt stronger - and certainly warmer - than he had last night, he remained terribly weak.
"Time to get something a little more solid into you."
He tried to raise himself to his elbows and gasped at the bolt of pain that shot up his left arm. He gaped at the charred stump of his wrist. He'd forgotten about his hand.
Slowly he became aware of pain all over his body.
The cow was talking again. She seemed to love to talk. Not surprising. If she was as isolated as she had said, her only conversations would be with her dog and whoever she phoned.
What had she called herself? Last night was such a blur ... Sadie, was it? Yes. Sadie.
She gestured toward her dog. "Rocky seems afraid of you. That's not like him. He usually adores people."
Idiot cow. You've taken in a pack animal that behaves according to a set of instincts honed by breeding and evolution. It adores nothing.
She pursed her lips and spoke to the dog in an inane tone. "Isn't that twue, Wocky-wocks. You're a good dog, aren't you, Wocky-wocks. Yes, you are."
Nauseated by this display of affection for a creature that was little more than a bundle of reflexes, he regarded the dog. The big brown mutt sat in the corner and stared at him. Animals tended to fear him, and that was just as well. He did not understand the concept of a pet and had not the slightest desire to own one.
When the Change came and food became scarce, pet owners' sickening anthropomorphisms would evaporate as they devoured their formerly beloved companions ... those that did not devour them first.
But this mutt ... had he watched like that all night?
The cow prattled on. "We cooked you some oatmeal, but made it real thin since we don't know how your digestion is doing. We put it in a cup."
"'We'?" His voice was still harsh and faint.
"Sure. Rocky and me. We're the only ones here. And no, he didn't help cook the oatmeal. It's just the way I talk."
He nodded, hoping that would end her prattle. But no ...
"If you can't drink it yourself, I'll spoon it into you. But if I were you, I'd try the cup. With my eyes I'll probably miss your mouth more often than I'll hit it."
He took the cup and sipped the gruel. It went down easily.
"Ooh, look at your face," she said, leaning close to his left cheek. "It's all burned. Really bad."
That didn't surprise him. He was probably burned to varying degrees over most of his body.
She had her face close to the remnant of his wrist, not touching, but examining with her rheumy eyes. He disliked anyone being this close.
"Glasses?" he said.
"I got some - got a dozen pair, at least - but they're not worth a damn. With this wet AMD, I can't see a damn thing unless I get real close. And even then..."
His weakness left him no choice but to allow her to continue her inspection.
"I don't see any sign of infection yet, but it's coming. Can't get hurt like that and not get infected. We're going to have to get you to a doctor soon or - "
"No..."
"No arguing. You've got to have a doctor."
"No ... please."
Words were agony.
"Why the hell not?"
"Later."
"'Later'? That mean you'll explain later? Well, it better be a damn good explanation. But don't you worry about any of that now. The phone's still out and the storm's still going strong. So it's just you and me and Rocky for a while."
Good. That was good.
Now she was leaning close to the electric blanket that covered him, touching it here and there.
"Oh, dear. Look here. Some of your body burns have oozed through the blanket and dried. Ooh, it's going to be stuck to you. That's not good. I'll get another blanket and we'll try to ease that one off you."
He finished the oatmeal and put the cup down. With his remaining hand, he grasped the edge of the blanket and yanked it free of his skin. He gasped a few hissing breaths through clenched teeth as pain screamed through his body.
"Oh, dear God!" she cried, backing away. "Why would you go and do a thing like that? I could have taken it off you real easy like, without all that pain."
Didn't she know? Pain was good. Other people's pain was better, but even his own pain was better than none. Pain meant he was alive. Pain would stimulate his healing powers.
He handed her the soiled blanket and watched her hurry off to find a replacement. Then he lay back and closed his eyes. Sleep beckoned again. He answered the call.