3. Darius
We’re in the hospital for twenty-four hours before we’re all given the all-clear.
Before I’m allowed to leave, a nurse dresses my wounds and applies ointment and an antihistamine for the insect bites.
I run my fingers over my skin, feeling the bumpy raised flesh. The bugs made a meal out of me, and I bet the others, too. It’s strange how quickly I’d grown used to these things. Just one of those bites only a couple of months ago would have driven me crazy, but now I barely noticed them.
My hands feel empty without my violin. I hadn’t given it too much thought while we’d been literally fighting for our lives, but now the imminent threat is gone, I’m aching to hold it. Then I remember I’ll never get to hold that particular instrument again.
It’s lost to me now.
I shouldn’t mourn an inanimate object, but a part of me does. That violin has been an extension of me for so long that it feels like losing an arm or a leg. Will a replacement feel the same? Play the same?
The thought of playing brings me instantly to Laney.
I want to play for her. I want to encase her in the music, to wrap her in the notes, to carry her along with me.
I’ve never played with the intention of trying to impress anyone before.
I’ve always known I had talent, and simply wanted to share the music with the world.
But I want to impress her. I want to wow her.
I want her to hear me play and think to herself that no other music will ever live up to mine.
I hate that we’ve all been separated, but of course they wouldn’t expect Laney—a grown woman—to want to stay in a room with one of us.
But even back at the cabin, we’d all wanted to be in the same room together.
We could have chosen for one or more of us to take the bedroom, but we didn’t.
It had been important that we were all together.
Except now everything is going to change.
Laney insists that she wants to go home to her trailer, at least for a short while. She has things she needs to sort out, including burying her mother. We all want to be with her, to support her, but she seems to think she needs to do these things on her own.
I don’t want her to be on her own. It doesn’t feel right to me, but she’s an adult now, and I need to respect her wishes.
I’m aware the three of us can be imposing, and maybe she feels like she can’t think properly around us.
I understand. We’re all greedy for her, and it must be a lot, especially after what’s she’s been through.
Because none of us have passports—they were all lost in the crash—we’re reliant on the US government to get us replacements.
We’ve been assured this will happen as quickly as possible, and that we’ll be on home soil before we know it, but in the meantime, we’re being put up at a decent hotel in Ottawa and have been told the expense is on the airline.
Finally, we’re discharged from the hospital.
A minivan is waiting to take us to the five-star hotel.
As we leave the hospital, we crowd around Laney, creating a protective barrier against the reporters, but the moment we step outside, they swarm us.
They shout questions at us, and I duck my head, glad I’m unable to make eye contact with any of them.
I keep my hand on Cade’s shoulder, allowing him to guide me to the transportation.
It’s only a fifteen-minute drive to the hotel, and we’re greeted from the minivan like we’re celebrities.
We’ve each been given a small suite, complete with a living area, a large bedroom, and bathroom, and a well-stocked minibar.
It’s not as though we have any luggage to have brought up to the rooms, but they’re well stocked with toiletries, slippers, and robes.
Cade talks me through where everything is, and together we pace the room so I can create a picture of everything in my mind.
We don’t intend to stay apart, so once I’ve got my bearings, we all convene in Reed’s suite. Its layout is identical to mine, which makes things easier.
“This place is amazing,” Laney says. “I don’t think I’m ever going to take running water for granted again. Is it wrong if I want to shower again?”
Cade agrees. “Yeah, and we have a flushing toilet. Who’d have thought a goddamned toilet would feel like a luxury.”
“Clean sheets,” Laney sighs. “And a new toothbrush, and shampoo, and conditioner.”
“Sharp razorblades,” Reed joins in.
None of us have shaved yet. It’ll feel weird to have smooth skin again. Maybe I’ll keep the beard.
Laney sighs, a breathy sound. “Whatever food we want.”
Cade snorts. “If I never eat another berry, it’ll be too soon.”
We all fall quiet as the realization that we’re actually safe, and memories of the cabin sweep back over us.
It’s going to take some serious adjustment to get back to any kind of normality.
I can’t envision it yet. It feels completely foreign.
A part of me feels as though this is all a dream or a hallucination, and any minute I’m going to wake and find myself back there.
The crazy thought that maybe I died when the boat went over the waterfall, and this is all some kind of afterlife, goes through my head.
The intrusive thought is powerful, and it catches my breath, my heart thudding against the inside of my ribs.
To that way lies madness, and it suddenly feels both dangerous and alluring.
“You okay, Dax?” Reed asks me.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You’ve gone pale.”
I shake my head. “Still in shock, I think. None of this feels real.”
Is it harder for me because I can’t see my surroundings? Would this be easier to accept if I could?
Laney’s small, slim hand slips into mine, and she squeezes my fingers.
I’m instantly swamped with guilt. How can I feel sorry for myself after she was assaulted and then raped?
She’s so brave to even still be functioning, to be able to put one foot in front of the other, to wake up in the morning and face a new day.
Every time I think about Smith and the others putting their hands on her, I want to rage against the world.
I have to fight the urge to lift my face and roar at the sky like some kind of caveman.
I pull her into me, wrapping my arm around her, and kissing the top of her head. She smells different now, of whatever shampoo and body wash she’s used. All I want is to touch her.
It’s as though she’s my place in the world. Like she grounds me. Chases the unnerving thoughts away just by being there.
I never want to let go of her.
I’m grateful to have my brother and father, too. I could have lost them at any moment.
We’ve all been starved for so long that it will take us some time to get our stomachs back to normal.
We’re eating small amounts, but often, but even though our stomachs might not be able to handle much, our heads are still greedy as hell.
The knowledge of being able to have whatever we want, whenever we want, is like landing in heaven.
None of us want to risk going out to eat. Even heading down to the hotel’s restaurant is too overwhelming. We’re at the height of this media storm, and if we step into public, we’re bound to be mobbed.
It’s strange that I’m hiding away from public attention now.
It’s something I’m used to, but after being in the wilderness for so long, I’ve gotten used to the quieter life.
Besides, compared to the sort of attention I got as a musician, this is like attention on steroids.
I have little doubt that when I get back to work, my concerts will sell out within minutes, and that I’ll be able to charge whatever I want.
The thought doesn’t bring me any pleasure. It doesn’t seem right for my career to have been given a boost after everything, especially after what Laney went through. It’s so wrong. I’d happily retire forever if it meant being able to take her pain from her. Such a thing is impossible, however.
One of the reporters already got into Laney’s room and asked her questions. It was lucky that Cade overheard her shouting for the guy to leave, or anything could have happened.
“Let’s order room service,” Reed suggests. “The whole damned menu.”
“Yes, that sounds like an excellent plan.”
I smile at the excitement in Laney’s voice.
“The tab is on the airline,” Reed says. “I say we go nuts.”
Cade claps once. “Yeah, let’s fucking do it. The hospital food was shit.”
He’s right. It was terrible. The doctors were conscious of not overloading our systems, aware it could make us sick, so they insisted on us having broths to help rehydrate us, before allowing us too many solids.
The dreams I’d had of tacos back in the cabin hadn’t come to fruition, but now we’re away from the watchful eye of the medical staff and can do whatever the hell we want.
We’ve all got plenty of eating to catch up on.
Reed gets on the phone to order. “Yeah, one of everything,” he repeats when they’ve clearly thought they misheard him. “And we’ll take a bottle of your most expensive champagne, too.”
None of us will have any kind of tolerance for alcohol right now. In addition to not having drunk anything since the crash, when Cade took those miniature bottles from the plane, our bodyweights are definitely on the low side.
Laney is still beside me on the bed, the waft of her shampoo and body wash filling my senses.
“God, you smell incredible,” I tell her.
I can’t help myself. I catch her around the waist and lift her into my lap. I’m instantly hard. I press her down onto me and grind up against her. She gives a throaty moan of pleasure and circles her hips. Is she wet for me already?
I make a suggestion. “I say we strip Laney naked, lie her on the bed, and eat all the incredible food straight off her body.”
“Hey,” she protests. “Then when do I get to eat?”
I sweep her hair from her neck and kiss her skin. “How about we dangle grapes into your mouth like they used to with those Greek goddesses?”