I was able to stagger out into the daylight by myself that next afternoon, even though the medic repeatedly told me to stay in bed and lay low. Furiosa was gone, drawn away by her duties as leader of the Citadel, and I was out of sorts. Cheedo turned her back when she saw me trying to rise, pretended not to notice when I shrugged into my jacket and smoothed it over the folds of the bandage wrapped around my bare midriff. I was barefoot and got stared at all the way through the halls. Struggled to get up the stairs because my gut muscles hurt like hell, but I managed to get to the upper levels and found a seat on a lookout post. Nobody else was there, which was good. The sun warmed my bones, and I knew the air wasn't as pure out here as it was in the Vault but it felt better – all that open space, and I could stare at the horizon in every direction from this vantage point.

Could've been minutes, could've been hours I was up there, staring off into the distance and paying attention to everything besides the ember of pain in my side where the wound was. I remembered dragging myself up onto an outcropping of rock so I could stretch to my full length, take the stress off my lower back, but I didn't remember taking off my jacket and wadding it up to use as a cushion for my head. When I finally wrangled my wandering mind back down to earth, I realized I was delirious with thirst, and that they were probably looking for me down in the Vault, and if nothing else I didn't want to worry Furiosa, so I gathered my jacket into my arms and nudged my way back into the darkness inside the tower. Navigating downstairs was easier than up (I didn't have to fight gravity), and I was stumbling back into the Vault before I knew it.

Funny. Now that I was out of direct sunlight, I felt cold, but ignored it as I knelt next to the pool in the Vault amidst the bustling of activity in the hospital. I noticed then that they had given me the only room that offered true privacy. The others who were being cared for were sprawled all over the floor, on mats and cots, though most of them were empty.

When I tried to bring the water to my mouth, my jaw tightened up. The muscles released as quick as they'd tensed, and I drank deeply, splashed some water on my face and neck before hoisting myself back up and ambling back to my bed. Tired. So tired. Cold, too. So I pulled my leather jacket over my arms and fit the zipper together and dragged it closed even as it caught on sand stuck in the teeth.

"I was wondering when you were going to come back."

Cheedo's voice startled me when I settled onto the mattress. I glared at her, and the Dag's platinum blonde hair flashed in the shadows as she stepped into view. In her arms was a bowl – she was grinding some leaves to a pulp, their pungent scent made me wrinkle my nose and duck my face into a dusty lapel. "Should've seen Furiosa when she found out you were missing," she said, raising an accusing eyebrow. "Just about took poor Cheedo's head off."

"We're all lucky she found you upstairs." Cheedo jerked a thumb skyward as I swung my legs onto the bed and lay back. Tired. Wanted sleep. Wanted them to leave. Closed my eyes. If I ignored the them, they'd go away.

"Slept all day out there, did you?" the Dag questioned. "How can you still want a nap?"

I cracked an eye open and glared at her. She put a hand up, clutching her bowl close to her chest. "Okay. Okay! We're leaving."

Through the biting tinnitus constantly ringing in my damaged eardrums, I thought I heard them muttering as they left.

"Does he seem… sick to you? I thought the surgery was supposed to help him," whispered Cheedo.

"He doesn't look good," the Dag agreed. "Go tell Furiosa – I'll fetch Melita. Hurry!"

I flipped onto my right side – the side that wasn't damaged – and shut them out.


They kept checking in on me, all of them, even Capable and Toast who never set foot near the Vault. It pissed me off. I knew it was because they cared, and they were worried, but I didn't want them to worry because it made me worried and if I didn't see them worry then I wouldn't, either. Furiosa was the only one I really wanted around because she stuffed her emotions into a glass bottle and left it behind, and when I looked at her all I saw was solidity, something I could ground myself to.

"This isn't a good sign. His temperature is alarmingly high," said the medic, frowning at the gauge on the oral thermometer. She practically had to prop my jaws open with a vise to get me to accept it – not because I wanted to be difficult (at this point, I really didn't) but because I physically couldn't. The muscles along my jawbone were misbehaving. Tight. Not letting me open my mouth, not to drink, not to breathe, not to speak. Wasn't sure what to think. So cold, so tired, my body aching like I'd been thrown from a rig at high speeds. My heart beat fast, like the pistons in an overheating engine, and it was getting harder to breathe.

Furiosa nodded grimly. She was leaning in the doorway again.

The medic looked down at me, stuck the thermometer back in her bag, closed it slowly. "I've done everything to sterilize the wound itself but it's had too much time to fester. The infection's in his bloodstream, deep inside him now. There are a few remedies I can try but I can't promise that they will have any effect at this stage. In the old world…" She glanced up, skywards, to the ceiling, and the volume of her words fell off. "In another time, I could do more."

"You're not sure you can help him?" Furiosa's voice was cool, dark, barely a question – couldn't decide if she was asking the doc, or telling me.

The medic shook her head and stood. "Unfortunately, I'm not, but Max is strong."

She took her leave.

Furiosa remained cemented to the doorframe.

I listened to myself breathe. It was strained. Muscles at my shoulder blades were rebelling now, too; I felt them tighten up, and release, and the next time they went taut it extended all the way to the front of my ribcage.

Capable's fiery red hair appeared at Furiosa's side, mercifully giving her an excuse to look away from me. "Did you figure out what's wrong with him?"

Furiosa gave a sharp nod. "I've seen this before, from similar injuries. They call it rust fever."

"Rust fever." Capable parroted the words, and I felt them knock around inside my skull like a stone caught in a wheel.

"Yes." Furiosa glanced back to me, just in time to see my body seize up again. "Tetanus."


All night, she stayed near. When I writhed in pain as spasms ripped me from the inside out, she was there, and when it got really bad she laid a hand on my shoulder until I collapsed again. Made sure my pillow stayed under my head, and if I twisted up the sheets she gently unraveled them from my limbs and smoothed them out again. Tried to give me water. I got maybe a few mouthfuls down when my jaw was cooperating with me.

If my temperature broke, I never knew it. Couldn't tell fever dreams apart from delirium brought on by hunger, or thirst, or fatigue.

Still, I fought.

I was stubborn, and if this rust fever wanted to take me, I was going to make damn sure it had a hell of a time doing so.

"Go get some rest." Toast floated into the room when the sun was throwing lances of light at us. I blinked at her, trying to bring her form into focus, but then the floor tilted and I lost all sense of balance, so I gave up and stared at the ceiling. I hated this place. Hated it.

"I'm talking to you, Furiosa."

The Imperator looked up from where she was seated, leaning forward with both elbows draped over her thighs, hands between her knees, head bowed. "Hmm?"

"The Dag told me you've been here since sundown." Toast nodded towards me. "I'll keep an eye on Max. You won't do him any good if you drop from exhaustion."

Furiosa looked towards me, pushing a hand through her close-cropped hair, and I locked her eyes with mine. She needed my permission to leave.

I dipped my head in her direction. You can go. I'll be okay.

She stood. "You'll come get me if there's a change," she ordered, and then she ambled out.

I spent most of the day in that bed, partly afraid to move like it would trigger the spasms though I knew they were random, and partly because I didn't want to catch hell from any of the women for getting up again. The medic came and shot me up with something, some sort of tranq that took the edge off and gave me back some control of my muscles, so I was able to ignore the pain, which allowed me to focus on being claustrophobic instead. I'd been staring at the same wall for an eternity.

I picked up my jacket and fell out of bed. This time, though, gravity kept shifting – I realized that no matter how much I wanted to drag myself back up to the lookout, the stairs would kick my ass, so I settled for awkwardly stumbling over to the glass wall that made up part of the dome. Sat down heavily. Pushed some green vines out of the way. Laid my forehead against the glass, warmed by the sun, and watched the citizens of the Citadel go about their day while I was up here, confined by a failing body…

When Toast found me, she gave me an earful for getting out of bed but realized that the change in scenery was probably good for me, so she perched herself on the stairs leading up to the loft with a book in her hands. I slumped against the dome, eyes drifting shut, weighed down. I was sick of this. In the distance, I saw the road, and the black fumes of Gastown, and beyond that the expanse of unforgiving desert. I wanted to run. I wanted my Interceptor. Wait – the Interceptor! Was it safe? Yeah, I remembered Furiosa telling me it was. I exhaled heavily. My car would be okay.

I was still there, slumped against the glass and feeling the first twinges of pain as the tranq wore off, when Furiosa approached from behind. She still looked tired as hell. Changed her clothes, at least, and cleaned up a little. "How is he?" she asked Toast, who closed her book, repositioned the toothpick she was gnawing on.

"Well, I mean, he managed to walk himself out here, so I guess that means he's not getting worse," she answered. "No worse than yesterday, anyway. He's due for another dose if Melita was able to dig more up."

"Can you walk?" Furiosa at my side. I pulled my face away from the glass, stared at her, blinking, while her words sank in. My jaw was tight again. I nodded. She hoisted me up, draped one of my arms across her shoulders, and walked me back to the bed. Toast followed, made sure I was comfortable, then ran off to find the medic. She returned a few minutes later with the gray-haired woman in tow.

The medic prepared an injection while she spoke to Furiosa. "You don't have to stay. My people are here twenty-four seven. If Max's condition worsens, they'll send notice immediately."

"I know." The Imperator eased her weight onto the doorframe. She wasn't going anywhere.


"I don't care what you have to do!" She had the poor War Boy backed up against the wall. "He needs an IV, so get me an IV!"

"But, Furiosa, we have maybe a dozen bags left. I'm sorry, but I was told we should save them for someone who has a better chance—"

"He's not going to have a chance if we don't get it to him!" Her metal arm flashed in the light as she picked me out in the darkened room. I was half-conscious, and I'm sure if I'd been fully aware I would've understood what the heck was going on, but I wasn't and I didn't. All I knew is that I hurt. Bad. Dizzy. Hot. Cold. Tired. Pissed. Exhausted. Last night hadn't been any better than the first.

Nobody said anything to me, but I knew I was getting worse. Spasms came often, more severe, lasted longer.

The will to fight, it was there. Just didn't have the strength to keep it up.

"Get me an IV drip for him," Furiosa hissed through clenched teeth. "Now."

The War Boy, he knew better than to argue with the Imperator when she was like this, so he loped off with his tail between his legs. Furiosa braced her arm against the doorframe and breathed hard. So did I, but for a different reason.

"Furiosa," said a gentler voice. Cheedo.

"What?"

"I just wanted to check on Max."

"Fine. He's fine."

Silence. Then, "Furiosa… he's not, is he?"

A sharp crack rang out as the Imperator drove a fist into the wall.