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... es stood yellowed bandages, old medicines, faded-label vials. Zaber pressed the rag against his wound with his hand, and in that moment he understood one thing:
He could die.
It was not just a passing thought.
It was cold, hard fact.
The cut on his shoulder was deep. The wound along his side was long, but not immediately life-threatening. He had lost a lot of blood, yet he still had strength to stand.
The problem was not the injury.
The problem was ...
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