Eric woke up to Michael standing against the wall, arms crossed.
"What do you want?" Eric said as he sat up, grunting with the effort.
Michael sighed. "You're going back to Austin to get real medical treatment. The medics told me that you will likely be recovering for at least a few weeks."
Eric's fingers scratched through the back of his hair. "Yeah. Apparently, getting hit by the shrapnel of a tank round will do that to you."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Eric, you almost died."
"I know. Trust me. But, at the time, there was no other choice. What was I supposed to do, sit there and let us all die?"
Michael rubbed his forehead. "No, you moron. You should have gotten treatment after you got back."
"No time for that in war, bud."
