Answering a prompt from K9grmingTwihard

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"Hurry up, Gilligan!" the Skipper shouted over his shoulder.

The first mate stumbled as he followed. A white cloud enveloped him, and he could not tell which way was up, or if he was standing or sitting or lying down.

A hand lightly slapping his face brought him around. "What's the matter with you?" The same hand felt his forehead. "You're feverish. You sit here while I get water."

Gilligan kept his eyes closed as the Skipper lumbered off. –If we can spare the water. We're already low on food– It had been three days since he had last eaten.

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