"You carry him now."
"Not my job."
"He's heavier than he looks!"
The voices arrived through a thick fog that seemed to have replaced most of my brain with wet cotton.
My head was hanging low, my arms dangling, my feet not touching anything, and it took several full seconds before the pieces assembled into something coherent.
I was being carried. Over someone's shoulder. Like a sack of grain.
My heart immediately tried to climb out through my throat.
"I'm not heavy, you're weak…" I groaned, my voice coming out slurred and weak. "Add milk to your diet. Then who knows."
The shoulder beneath me jerked hard enough that I nearly slid off it.
"Shit, he's awake."
"You said that stuff would keep him under for hours."
"It should have."
"Then why is he talking?"
"Maybe cause I'm built different? " I mumbled into the back of someone's coat.
