Please, just let me die.

Holding my head up was impossible. Breathing was impossible. Moving was impossible. Living had to be.

Heat roiled off my exposed skin into the not cold enough air. Beneath the scant cloth covering so little, a jungle existed. Rivulets of cold sweat oozed from patches stuck to me.

Attempts to unglue my eyelids revealed the light level of a sun gone nova, only the explosion was in my head and made it throb. That small effort set off every muscle and joint to ache in rhythm with it.

So hate being sick as a dog.