Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRID
When I opened my eyes, strips of light brightened the purple velvet, making the fabric glow with a deep red hue where the sun touched it.
Still half asleep, I glanced at the bare walls that closed in all around me.
The warm light came from the slits in the wooden door, freely entering the tiny room I was in.
A sudden flash of recognition surged through me, and I perched myself up on an elbow, looking over at Victor. Two light gray eyes stared back at me. His hair was more disheveled than usual. But his skin had resumed its normal creamy color, and a faint pink blush spread over his cheeks.
“You’re awake,” I whispered.
“For some time,” he responded.
His voice sounded soft, and more raspy than usual.
Just hearing the sound of it filled me with a rush of stupid, uncontrollable happiness.
Just days ago, I was not sure if he would survive the trip, and only hours ago, I did not know if both of us would make it to safety.
Everything about this morning was nothing short of a miracle: the bright morning sun, a dry, comfortable bed, and no crawlers in sight.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I rubbed my eyes, sitting up on the floor.
“You needed sleep,” he said simply.
“How do you feel?” Without thinking, I brushed my hand across his neck and cupped his cheek.
Victor stilled, watching me intently. Only then did I realize that I had gotten used to touching him while he was unconscious, and he had no idea that his body was so familiar to me now.
But I also knew that he was not really into physical touch.
He often complained about the women he dated, how all of them wanted to cuddle and hold hands.
He hated everything about that, valuing his own personal space more than the comfort of others.
If I was completely honest, I admired that about him.
He protected his own interests no matter what, and was not afraid to appear disagreeable in the process.
I briskly removed my hand and scooted away.
Victor watched me for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed. Then he switched his gaze to the door.
“May I ask where we are?”
“I brought you to the temples,” I said, covering myself with the purple fabric.
“Alone?” his eyes flickered back to my face.
“The healer said you wouldn’t make it without the sacred water. I thought . . . I could do it. And so I did!” I gave him my best cocky smile.
Victor’s eyes narrowed, his lips moved. He looked away still not saying anything.
“Why . . .?” He sat up rubbing his eyes.
The blanket slid down to his waist, and even after reminding myself not to stare, I could not help taking a peek at his well sculpted stomach.
“Why would you risk yourself?” He stared right at me.
“You were dying. I had to.”
“No. You didn’t.”
“What’s your problem? Is it because it was me? I don’t think you’d be complaining if Ty or Sol had saved you instead.” Victor did not respond. “That’s it, Isn’t it?” I clenched my teeth.
The man was unbelievable! With just a few words, he was able to shift my mood from happy and carefree, to full-blown furious. No wonder we were constantly fighting. He was absolutely impossible to deal with.
“I didn’t agree to this,” Victor said.
“I know. You were too unconscious to ask for anything.” I hissed.
“If I could have talked, I would’ve told you to leave me alone.” He raised his eyes to me and I could clearly see sparks of stubborn determination within them.
“You know what? A little more appreciation would be nice. Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get you here?” I snapped.
“Exactly! I don’t want you to do anything like that ever again!” Victor raised his voice, mimicking my tone.
“Are you suggesting that I should have let you die rather than hurt your fragile sense of manliness?”
“Damn it, Frid.” He stroked his hair.
“I think I can safely say that I very much prefer you to be unconscious.” I threw the blanket off me and reached for my suit.
Victor, who clearly wanted to continue our less than pleasant exchange, appeared a little distracted, like he was not prepared to see me without my suit on.
I rolled my eyes and sat crossed legged, unplaiting my braids and combining my hair with my fingers.
After splashing around in the pool last night, my hair was still wet when I fell asleep.
Then this morning, on top of the annoyance I felt even looking at Victor, I also had the privilege of inhaling the scent of mildew that came from my damp hair.
Fuming inside, I glanced at Victor who still gazed at me.
The last time we spoke, it almost sounded like he had feelings for me.
But he was delirious with pain, he probably had no idea what he was saying.
There was no way he considered me attractive.
I knew the type of women he usually dated.
They all wore loud, revealing dresses and rouged their lips.
I never used any pigments on my skin, or wore dresses.
And to be completely honest, even if I wore a dress like that, I didn’t have enough flesh in the right places.
When my hair was secured, I pulled on my suit and fished out my boots from under the door.
“Where are you going?” Victor cleared his throat.
“I’m going to explore the building and look for some food.”
“Didn’t you bring supplies with you?” he asked and I was ready to throw something at him.
“Of course I did.” I chewed on my lip, trying to hide my exasperated sigh. “But while dragging your unconscious ass through the tunnels and fighting crawlers, I happened to lose it.”
He remained quiet for a moment, scrutinizing me.
“You realize that this place has been combed through many times before,” he continued.
“I’ll take my chances.” I turned away to button up my suit.
“Frid?” he called when I turned to the door.
I did not respond, removing the boxes away from the exit.
“Frid?” Victor called again.
“What?” I turned around.
“Please be careful,” he suddenly said.
Instead of answering, I pushed the door open.
The sun freely reached into the large room as I softly closed the closet door behind me.
The abundance of broken furniture was an obvious sign that before the outbreak, this place was used as storage for the building.
I moved to the door of the second room and opened it.
I went through every inch of the space with extreme care.
Saving the most dangerous for last, I opened the door leading to the corridor that was actually a set of stairs.
It was much darker down there. I took out my sword and cautiously stepped onto the stairs.
Brittle, crumpled paper crinkled under the sole of my shoe and I paused.
Nothing seemed too suspicious and I moved further down, keeping alert.
Dark stains colored the walls, reminding me that we were in the wastelands, and anything could happen here.
I paused about halfway down, giving myself enough time to listen for any misplaced sounds within the building.
Then I noticed the outline of a door, and hurried to it.
Still clenching my sword, I laid my ear against the panel.
Everything seemed quiet. Then I placed my left hand on the door handle and slowly pulled.
Staying inside the doorway, I turned my head, looking around, before slowly moving through the space.
The sets of rooms on this level had no doors and were completely destroyed.
They were filled with shattered furniture and statues, fluffy white stuff, papers, and textiles of all kinds.
But in one chamber, only the torn shreds of dusty fabric littered the floor, leaving the windows partially exposed.
Someone tore the curtains, but the glass in the windows was completely intact.
Despite all my frustration with Victor, one thing he was absolutely right about; this place had been visited by dragonborns throughout the years, and anything that could still be good to eat, would be long gone.
But that was not the worst thing. As much as we needed food, water was even more important.
Without those two things, dragon blood or not, we would not be able to travel back to Darragh.
For some reason, I doubted that we should use sacred water to quench our thirst, but if none could be found, that would be our only option.
I descended another set of stairs and entered through a door that was barely attached to the hinges.
This set of rooms looked like it used to be someone’s apartment.
The art was still hanging on the walls in the hall, over a simple wooden chair and a side table.
My heart sank with a heavy premonition as I stepped onto the dusty gray carpet.
Feeling bad about the people who lived in the building was not going to help anyone. I reminded myself about our current situation and moved along.
Despite everything I told myself, my gaze kept returning to the pieces of clothing and the plates that still sat on the kitchen counter.
The apartment appeared neat and well organized, even after having been looted before.
There were clear signs of a female presence.
Vases on the tables, small figurines, framed drawings.
I paused by a miniature watercolor of a crooked willow tree that was leaning over a river bank.
Then my eyes landed on a wedding portrait on the wall.
It was a painting of a couple in their early thirties, beside the woman stood a boy of about five.
The woman had a pleasant, heart shaped face, and her husband was a gentle looking man with soft and kind, smiling eyes.
I sighed, hoping that whoever they were, they managed to safely escape the building.
Slowly, I moved along the hall. It was unsettling how the lives of every person changed after the outbreak, but surviving it as a human was nearly impossible. It was the first time I ever really thought about the humans who were left behind in so many cities.
Did the council help them escape? Did they send troops to evacuate the civilians? Did they even try to save any of them? I seriously doubted it.
I went straight to the kitchen. On the table were two glasses and two gritty plates with silverware carefully placed next to them. Suddenly, I detected a dark shape out of the corner of my eye. I halted, clenching my blade.
Two feet, in thick leather boots, dangled in the air.
Hanging from a wooden bar that was close to the ceiling were two bodies.
A man and a woman. The woman wore a long, flowy dress and a pair of shoes with thin straps around the ankles.
She had worn the same dress in her wedding picture. I swallowed. They never made it out.
With difficulty, I looked away. I could not help them, they were already gone, but Victor and I were still here, fighting for our lives.
I stepped to the pantry and looked through every cupboard, every drawer.
Plates, bowls, cups, glasses, silverware, but nothing we could eat. I glanced back at the couple.
Is that what happened to them? Did they barricade themselves in the apartment but ran out of food? Why didn’t they leave?
Stupefied, I just stared at the tiny flowers on the wallpaper. The colors that used to be vibrant and bright had turned pale and faded. The next moment, I was back in the hall.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t affect you. Just let it go.
I exhaled and moved to the hall that led to four more doors. A familiar stench hit my nostrils, bringing with it a multitude of unpleasant associations.
Crawlers!
Almost at once a low guttural growl broke the silence.
My heart raced, even though I had heard the sound thousands of times before.
Still, it chilled the blood in my veins.
The noise was coming from one of the rooms further down the hall.
I raised my sword and moved toward it. The hall was crammed with furniture and very dark.
At last, I came upon a carefully barricaded door.
It appeared that someone tried to make sure that the monster could not get out.
Why couldn’t they kill it?
That was the only question that kept circling in my mind as I stepped around the heavy table and removed the wooden beams that secured the handle.
Through the tiny crack, as fast as lightning, a face appeared on the other side of the door and my heart stopped. Sallow, decaying skin, short, matted hair, torn shirt, and large, light eyes. The eyes of a child.