Nor the hand that is healing

The sweat that grows on the top of his forehead slowly rolls down his face, mixing with the grime and blood. He wonders when was the last time he showered. He tries to point to a time before all of this; he thinks of Mia and how he found her, and he no longer can remember if it was the evening or morning when he arrived in Louisiana. It’s hot, he thinks. He can barely process that someone is speaking to him. Chris Redfield is the name of the man that helps him get to his feet, and Ethan thinks how strong the man’s grip around his wrist is.