Fesili slowly drifted back to consciousness, finding himself in the base hospital, the pungent smell of disinfectant stinging his nostrils.
He reflexively tried to sit up, but the movement tugged at his wounds. A wave of sharp pain forced a muffled groan from his throat. Images of the explosion flashed through his mind, and he was instantly alert. Ignoring the pain, he ripped the IV line from his hand and, disregarding the nurses' attempts to stop him, stumbled out of the room.
He staggered down the corridor, his hospital gown soaked in cold sweat and clinging to his battered frame. Every step felt as though his wounds were being torn open again, but the thought of Muxi—her fate unknown—sent a surge of panic through him.
Chapter 113