Nightmare journey

the far side of the clearing, standing before a purple and orange sunburst in the wall, when he realized that Jask might have further convulsions while he was away and might die before anything could be done for him. He hurried back, his huge feet thumping the hard earth, and he sat down facing the recumbent man, studying him intently.
    “You okay?”
    Jask did not respond. At least his breathing was normal, and he was not choking on his tongue.
    That was the longest night of Tedesco's life, all of it passing on the razored edge of anticipation.
    Jask perspired, droplets beading on his chalky forehead so rapidly it seemed some magic trick must be employed. They coursed down his face, stained the cloak drawn under his chin. He soaked the cloth that bound him, turning it a darker color. Tedesco watched, afraid to unwrap him lest he get a chill from the night air.
    Time passed in series of colors.
    Jask took to shivering, his teeth chattering audibly in the still night, his breath jerky and shallow. The droplets of sweat ceased to pop out on his head, and he felt cold and nearly dead. Tedesco, helpless, could do nothing then but lift him and hold him, like a mother might hold a child, share bodily warmth, murmur to him… and hope.
    Perspiring, chilled, perspiring and chilled again. From one extreme to the other, Jask passed the hollow night.
    An hour before the first light of the new morning Jask suffered another series of convulsions, not so bad as the first, but not at all reassuring. He cried out and writhed beneath his confining covers.
    Tedesco depressed his tongue the way he had done before, spoke softly to him, waited out the seizure, held him to be certain it was all over, then slowly lowered his head back onto the makeshift pillow.
    For a while there was nothing more ominous than perspiration and chills. Then, near dawn, as the sky was growing more purple and less black, Jask began to gnash his teeth together, grinding them so loudly that Tedesco felt as if someone were standing beside him and making the noise in his ear. He tried to stop Jask from doing this, but he made no headway.
    The sky continued to lighten.
    Jask screeched unintelligible curses, flailed madly about him on all sides, rose up and beat at the air, all the while holding his eyes squinted tightly shut.
    He fell back, exhausted, still grinding his teeth, gathered his strength and flailed some more, hooted and whimpered, kicked at the earth and the air. He seemed to be fighting some monstrous battle with an awful but invisible enemy meant only for his eyes.
    After dawn his behavior was better. He stopped moving so much and settled into a calm, sound sleep.
    Or a deeper coma.
    Tedesco wished he knew which it was.
    Three hours after dawn Jask stirred uneasily, groaned deep in his throat and blinked his red, swollen eyes, tears sliding like beads of oil from the corners of them. When Tedesco leaned over him, he seemed to stare through the bruin as if he were not there. He was delirious, rolling his head agitatedly from side to side, licking his lips, mumbling incoherently to himself.
    He drank passively, allowing Tedesco to force two ounces of water between his pale, cracked lips, and then he began to splutter and refused to take anything else.
    He called Tedesco's name, his voice shallow and sibilant.
    “Yes?” the bruin asked. He leaned closer, waiting, staring into those shiny, fevered eyes.
    “Tedesco?” Jask repeated.
    “I'm here.”
    But it was clear that Jask was still talking only to himself, for he gazed through the mutant, and his call was not one of recognition, merely the fragment of a dream.
    The morning passed.
    Tedesco was not hungry, though he had last eaten quite some time before. He knew he would need strength, and he unwrapped a meat stick for his lunch. After a few bites he could not swallow any more. He rewrapped the meat, put it in the rucksack, and sat by the sick man, watching for trouble.
    The night air warmed as the day progressed, and the myriad colors rippled on all sides.
    In the middle of the endless afternoon Jask began to perspire again, though this attack of fever went unrelieved by the periodic chills he had endured earlier. He soaked the garments in which he was wrapped and continued to sweat, until Tedesco began to fear that he would eventually dehydrate.
    When he drank now, he consumed far more than an ounce or two of water, sucking greedily on whatever the bruin put in his cup, though he was still not free of