Chapter 13
My eyes open to dim light. Pressure pounds at my temples and my muscles twinge with a dull ache. I quickly realize I don’t recognize my surroundings, and my last memories lend no clue to my current whereabouts.
I try to move but am blocked by a wall. Blinking away the crust from the corners of my eyes, I see clearly. It’s not a wall that keeps me caged, but Lowell.
“Goddess, I was worried you were dead,” he grumbles with a sigh, holding a piece of cloth torn from his pants above his left eye.
We are in our tents, well, one of our tents, crammed together side-by-side. I’m squished into one of the walls by Lowell’s large body, only a thin blanket separating us.
“What’s going on? What the hell happened?” I ask, scrambling to sit up. I scan the confined shelter, spotting a med kit that has been opened and rummaged through. Near it, a small bundle of food is tucked into the furthest corner.
My heart leaps at the sight of my crossbow as it sits propped up against the tent door. I sigh with relief.
Lowell follows my gaze, hissing each time he blots his forehead.
He looks down at the cloth, grimacing at what he sees.
“The Orageist Giant kicked up a sandstorm. I saw it coming when the Sandpits started coiling counterclockwise.” I must be giving him a strange look, because he quickly adds, “When I first started relocating Sandpits, I noticed they would coil counterclockwise instead of their usual clockwise position each time there was about to be a sandstorm. It only took a few times for me to realize it wasn’t a coincidence.
” He laughs, but there is no humor in his tone.
“So, from what you’ve told me about the Giant’s ‘rumored’ weather abilities and what I know about the Sandpits, I knew what to expect when a massive dust cloud whipped past marker five. ”
My eyes widen. “Wait, there were Sandpits? By marker five?” I beam, smiling despite the knot in my stomach.
Lowell matches my smile, unrestrained with white fangs gleaming in the lamplight. “Yeah, I guess more were hiding around the pass. They must have followed the Giant past marker five, too.”
My cheeks hurt from the wideness of my grin. “So they got past marker five?”
“Sure did,” he says, eyes softening.
I clench my fists triumphantly, vibrating as I bounce up and down. “That’s amazing. I can’t believe we did it! We’ll have to monitor the Sandpits to make sure that they don’t retreat to the pass once the dust settles. They’re fickle little creatures—”
Lowell’s smile slows to a grimace as he heaves a groan, cutting me off with a raised hand. “Don’t get too excited. We might not make it back to Gaia 4 alive.”
My eyebrows lift, his words not making an iota of sense. “Wait, what? Why not?”
Lowell points to the tent door, his expression obvious.
“The sandstorm has been raging for over twenty-four hours, my sandcycle is fucked, and I have no idea where we are. We only have two days of food and water left and are one day away from Gaia 4. My crew won’t be able to reach us until the sandstorm dies down, and by then, you’ll be dead. ”
“I’ll be dead?”
Sullen, his lips pinch at the corners. “Lizardfolk can survive without water for much longer than a human can,” he explains, sliding me the only surviving canteen. “And I thought you’d be more shocked by the knowledge that you’ve been incapacitated for twenty-four hours.”
I shrug, uncapping the canteen. “I’ve been knocked out once already this month. It’s stopped being surprising.”
My reply earns a wry smirk from Lowell.
Taking sparing sips of the water, the moisture scrapes against my dry, sand-filled mouth and throat. When I swallow, it hurts.
“How did we get lost? Aren’t we only a short distance away from the main path?” I croak, licking dribbles of liquid from the corners of my lips. I resist using the back of my hand, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.
He shakes his head. “The strength of the sandstorm gale dragged us far from where we started. I haven’t been able to get a read on the compass.”
I chew my lower lip in worry. “So, we’re lost?”
“Not until I figure out where we are.”
“Which is lost,” I say as my breaths grow shallow, my blood pumping faster. The slapping of sand against the tent grows louder in my ears.
Lowell tosses his head back, strangely relaxed. “We’ll figure it out once the sandcycle is fixed and I determine north. In the meantime—” He points a claw at me. “No panicking. You’ll use up all our good air.”
I smile weakly, carefully pushing the half-full canteen to the side.
“It’s difficult not to panic after learning we’re trapped in a flimsy tent with little food or water.
” Saying the words out loud only frays my nerves further.
Although the full gravity of our situation has not yet set in, I’m already on the verge of a complete anxiety-driven meltdown.
Lowell’s sharp features grow softer after he sighs, jaw flexing. “You have me, so we’ll be alright.”
I scrunch my nose on instinct. “What, are you going to fight the sand? How the hell does that help?”
“You’d rather be alone, then?” Lowell snaps, ruffled. I don’t like that he looks at me as an adult would at a child throwing a tantrum.
I stay silent.
“You may know the desert better on paper, but you don’t know how to survive like I do. You humans think you know everything just because you read it in a book once.” A look of petulance crosses his face as he puffs his cheeks. “If not for me, you’d be buried in a sandy grave.”
I ignore his previous jeering, dismissing it with an eye-roll. “And what exactly do you mean by that?” I ask pointedly. “All I remember is you letting go of the handles when the sandstorm started to form — one that we could have just driven through.”
Lowell lies down on his back, placing a hand behind his head.
“We were going to fall no matter what. The beginning of the storm was already leagues ahead of us, and even at full speed, we’d never outrun it.
The only variable was whether we would get trampled by the Orageist Giant or not, so I removed the variable. ”
I lean closer to Lowell’s face, angered and confused. “By making us fall sooner? Great plan.”
He scoffs, wincing when he does so. “No, by protecting your soft little human body with mine, dumbass.”
My face drops in surprise. I have no memory of the fall, but that was not the resolution I imagined. I knew we’d been launched from the cycle, but I would have guessed that he only came back for my body after the fact, forgetting I was even here.
Protecting me? There is no chance of that reality.
“No chance that’s true,” is all I can say.
Averting his gaze, I swear I see a flush of pink dusting over his scaled cheeks. “I let go of the handles early so I could coil you inside of my body. By doing that, I’d take the majority of the impact. What else are Lizardfolk scales good for?” he says with a bashful laugh.
“Obviously not a lot,” I reply, motioning to the cut above his eye.
“Oh, no, I got this from trying to get your stupid crossbow out from underneath a rock.” He pulls up the corner of his Gaia 4 jacket from where it lay across his waist, revealing a massive wound underneath. “This is what I got from the fall.”
A gash runs from Lowell’s hip bone to the inside of his thigh, so deep it could be mistaken for a partially severed leg. His slight removal of the jacket causes the wound to resume hemorrhaging, the bundled leather a poor choice of fabric to stanch the bleeding or sop up the spillage.
“Lowell, what the hell!” I exclaim, aghast, crawling to retrieve the strewn-about medical supplies. “I thought you said we’d be alright?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was only trying to calm you down. I mean, I will be fine without food or water…” He pauses, hissing through his teeth.
“But I, uh… I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it during the few days we’ll be trapped here.
I’ve been losing a lot of blood, and that med kit is only for small cuts and bruises,” he says, his weakening voice poorly masked by indifference.
I droop my head, my forehead wrinkling with concern. “Then why did you bother retrieving my bow? Especially with injuries like that, I—”
He cuts me off, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. “Because you’d kill yourself out there looking for it, May. We’re allies right now, remember? And it wasn’t that hard to find, so don’t give me too much credit.”
In the middle of the sandstorm, he still went out to find my crossbow.
My heart swells. He had no reason to do that, given our relationship, or lack thereof. For a fleeting moment, I forget our dreadful situation.
“Thanks,” I say, becoming alarmingly aware of how close our bodies are to touching. I can’t sit, breathe, or even look at him without feeling embarrassed. It’s like a spotlight is shining on me, every movement meaning something that it didn’t before.
I place my hand on my chest.
When did it become like this? For him, of all people?
Sweat builds on Lowell’s brow as he groans, pressing down on the wound with shaky arms. His jacket is soaked with blood.
“With the little time we have, I need to teach you how to dispose of my body properly — so you won’t have to breathe in the decomposition.” He grunts in pain, again, this one more guttural. “You could eat me, forsaking your beliefs and all, but I don’t recommend it. Lizardfolk taste like shit.”
Instinctively, I grab Lowell’s shin comfortingly. “Don’t say things like that. You are not going to die. Don’t be dramatic.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. Beneath my grasp, I feel the slightest shakes of quivering.
“Denial isn’t going to help,” he says, staring at where we’re connected.
My throat tightens at the vulnerability of his words. He’s no longer hiding the terror in his voice, fear falling from his lips like a broken dam.
He’s afraid. He’s actually afraid.
It’s an unnerving sight to see, but his fears are not unwarranted.
We are alone in a sandstorm with one of us badly hurt and hardly any supplies.
Never mind getting my old job back in Nilsan, or facing the consequences of committing a major crime.
It all seems so inconsequential now. Lowell took the brunt of the fall at his own expense, and now he is dying right in front of me.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, willing away any tears that threaten to form.
I’m not helpless. I know what to do.
Grandma had been through much worse injuries and survived with minimal damage.
Because of her limited access to city doctors, she taught (or rather, forced) me how to handle dire medical situations.
Although I’d never had to put it into practice on a real person before now.
Poorly drawn diagrams and miming surgical procedures with her hands certainly seem less convincing as applicable experience as they did back then.
I rifle through the med kit, gathering as many supplies into the crook of my arm as possible.
“What’s your blood type,” I say, not as a question.
Lowell narrows his eyes at me. “Why…?” He questions this as though I’m trying to trick him.
I disregard his skepticism, pulling an empty blood bag from its compartment. Undressing my upper body, I wipe an iodine pad over my exposed arm to prep it for a hefty needle.
“Woah!” Lowell exclaims at a poor attempt to remain lighthearted. “Keep stripping and my blood will pump out twice as fast.”
“Better to your dick than to your wound,” I quip despite my concentrated frown as I carefully insert the needle into my vein.
He snorts at my comment, eyes going wide when he sees my blood flow through the tubing. “Does it not matter that I’m Lizardfolk?”
I shake my head. “With the amount I can provide, no.”
Lowell wipes the sweat from his eyes. “But I don’t know my blood type. Won’t that be an issue?”
“I’m universal. I only asked your type out of habit,” I say, flexing my fingers to urge the crimson liquid to move faster.
Dehydration has turned my blood to pudding, the slow creep making my skin crawl.
“It’s not a lot, but I’ll transfer it to you once the bag is full.
Hopefully, your wound will be stable by then. ”
Mounting Lowell’s thigh, I straddle his hips and begin to unbuckle the belt of his pants.
“Like I said before, you’re going to make my blood pump twice as fast,” he says, no jest in his voice this time. His eyes are squinted, his face scrunched and laced with unease.
I smile at seeing the self-conscious discomfort on his face.
It’s an uncommon but satisfying sight. “I need your belt to stop the hemorrhaging and your pants lowered so I can get better access to the wound,” I explain, ripping the belt from its loops while pushing his pants past the mess of blood and scales.
Lowell stares up at the ceiling, clearly not wanting to look at the gore. His grey scales look even paler, now.
“At least give me a kiss first before you undress me. You’re treating me like some kind of whore,” he teases, barely able to get through the joke without laughing.
I join him with sarcastic laughter, his wound not humorous in the slightest.
The injury is bad.
Really bad.
I press my lips together, praying to Grandma for guidance in remembering her convoluted process for major injury care. I’m wracked with nerves and my mind is racing and reeling with each inhale of the musty, coppery smell. It’s suffocating.
I could let Lowell die, fix the bike, then leave, I think, holding my breath.
If I wait out the sandstorm, I could return to Nilsan as the hero who slayed the boss of Gaia 4. The feat would ensure the reclamation of my previous title and more. A promotion, even.
Lowell’s breath stutters, his fingers flexing into fists in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Something about the visual pulls at me, a warmth spreading across my heart down to each appendage until it has taken over completely.
The wisest choice to make would be to let Lowell tell me how to fix the cycle, then leave him to die. Any idiot would choose this option.
Instead, I slip on a pair of sterile gloves and get to work.