Chapter 4
It seemed like forever before Church got the vomiting under control. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then gulped water right from the tap, swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out. What he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush right now.
He’d forgotten about this side of having fun. He found that kind of ironic—what with being made of pure memory. He didn’t dwell on it. He did consider ditching this body for someone less pukey, but after splashing water on his face, he felt better. And switching would just confuse Caboose.
Church hurried back to where he last saw the gang—near an ice cream stand where Grif had been trying to convince Simmons that mixing all ten flavors was a sure cure for a hangover—but when he got there, the shop had closed. Fuck.
He scanned the mass of people, looking for a mop of black hair bobbing above the others. Or a glimpse of the turquoise sundress Carolina was wearing that was giving Church very confusing and uncomfortable feelings. He saw only strangers.
“Great,” he muttered. “They ditched me.”
He rubbed his face, wincing at his sore nose. This poor bastard was going to wake up to one hell of a hangover in the morning. Instinctively, Church reached for his radio toggle before remembering a second later he wasn’t wearing his armor. He wasn’t even wearing his own skin. Now what? Caboose would never voluntarily leave without him, so he figured they went on ahead when he took too long.
( Read more... )