“Sumpthin’ ain’t right,” he heard himself say. Then choked back the words, coughing, swallowing, clearing his throat, and swallowing some more to make even the memory of those words go away. Fields then rolled onto his side to see the same nurse standing beside the bed, her uniform just as white but her smile more labored, less shimmering. “Scythe Fields? How are you feeling, Your Honor?”
