He jerks at the voice and notes something has changed, but his brain does not skip a beat. Neil continues as if he had been waiting at full attention. "Will...wash...first," comes the murmur. "Feel...hot."

Aside from the layers of swamp crap, sweat, blood, and toy rocket goo, the fever is rising. Rising fast. Cool water sounds good, much better than rest. Than those fucked up dreams.