The watchers

By the time Celina stirred from her sleep, the sun was up and shining through the car windows and right into her face. She was lying in the shotgun seat, the back of which was reclined to create an improvised bed, long enough for Celina's legs to fit. A smell of heated plastic filled the hot air.

She opened her eyes and looked around to find Victor sitting in the driver's seat, looking down at her with a frown. He looked haggard, and there were deep shadows under his eyes. It made her try to get up and look around, but a sharp pain in her left arm and a dizzy feeling in her head stopped her. She fell back on the seat with a gasp. It was a rasped sound, as dry as her tongue at the moment.

Victor wordlessly reached into the glove compartment and got out a metal flask. Celina stared at it with enchanted eyes, but he didn't immediately give it to her.

"Don't move your left hand, Celina."