22. Dylan
TWENTY-TWO
DYLAN
I come to slowly, step by step. First, I register the noise. Birds. A cacophony of a song from what sounds like a whole choir of them. Then the smell. A warm, briny breeze that makes my nostrils flare.
My skin feels itchy and tight, but my back is damp.
When I try to swallow, my throat is impossibly dry.
I pry one of my eyes open and focus on the endless expanse of blue above me. Everything feels gritty and uncomfortable and… wrong.
My heart picks up speed.
This is wrong.
This is… I’m on a plane.
Supposed to be.
The little breath I have in my lungs gets stuck somewhere in my throat while I scramble to push myself up into a sitting position. I let out a hiss when a sharp spike of pain shoots through my temples. I clutch my head and squeeze my eyes shut.
Then there are hands on me, on my shoulders and the back of my head.
“Whoa. Easy. Easy! Take it easy.”
I snap my eyes open and see Adrian.
I’m panting like I’ve just run a marathon, and it takes me a while to catch my breath and for the blinding flashes of pain behind my eyelids to subside to something manageable.
My gaze seeks out Adrian with desperation.
My world is still spiraling out of control—heart hammering in my chest, breaths too shallow, every muscle in my body rigid with unimaginable tension.
The chaos is still wreaking havoc in my mind, but it shifts the tiniest increment, and the frantic edge of panic loosens just enough that some air manages to get in my lungs.
He’s the only real thing in this new, foreign world, and he’s the only thing that keeps me from completely losing my shit.
I’m two thirds of the way there, but for now I still cling to sanity with the tips of my fingers and focus on Adrian’s arms around me.
He murmurs words I can’t seem to decipher, but slowly, ever so slowly, his nearness starts to work. My thoughts lose their frenzied edges, and my pulse starts to settle back in its usual rhythm.
A minuscule, trembling exhale.
I can breathe again.
The shock is still there, but the sharp edges of it have been dulled by Adrian’s quiet certainty.
He’s real.
He’s here.
I’m not alone.
It’s only then that I take a proper look at our surroundings. The view hasn’t changed at all from before—white sand and aquamarine waves that blend into the deep blue sky on the horizon. It’s paradise, and it looks just like in the photos.
That’s a problem, though.
I slowly turn my head toward Adrian. “Where the fuck is the plane?”
His jaw tightens for a moment, and he points to the ocean with a grim laugh. “Somewhere in there.”
It comes back to me like a series of frames from a movie, one after another. Once my brain’s done shuffling through the fragments it has to offer, I clutch the back of my neck.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter as the icy fingers of panic clutch and twist my throat again. “Oh, fuck,” I choke out. “Fuck!” I look at Adrian again. “Abel?”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he shakes his head and then shrugs one shoulder.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly.
I nod and push that information far, far away, into the deepest recess of my mind. Not right now. I can’t think about that right now.
“Where are we?” I ask.
Adrian drags his hand through his hair. “Your guess is as good as mine.” He looks around too, and squints against the bright sun. “With any luck there are people somewhere around the corner, and we can ask for help.”
I cross my fingers for a second before I ask, “And without any luck?”
It takes him a second to answer. “Without any luck, we’re fucked.”
I wince and then watch in real time as Adrian’s protective instincts kick into high gear.
Just like the time he punched Parker in the face for me, or the way he always saves me a seat without asking, or that time I got the flu in high school, and he skipped his classes to turn in my essay for me.
Or the numerous other occasions when he’s had to prop me up and pull me through life after him.
“We’re going to feel like real idiots once we get moving and find a hotel a mile away,” he says.
I try to do my part and laugh, but instead of a smile I only manage a wince. He’s in front of me in a flash.
“Head?” he asks.
“Uh-huh.” The pain takes a back seat for a moment because he takes my face in his hands and starts to gently poke and prod at my head.
“Describe the pain?”
I blink for a moment. His hands are in my hair. His chest is right in front of my face.
My mouth is even drier than before.
It’s been a while since I’ve been this close to him. Years since I’ve allowed myself to be this close to him for more than a quick hug. My defenses are packed away into boxes somewhere in San Francisco.
“Dyl?” His voice gets that alarmed tone.
“Yeah? Yes?” I manage to get out. Somehow.
“Describe the pain,” Adrian says again.
“A headache. I must’ve banged it somewhere.”
Adrian considers it “Okay. Anything else? Dizziness? Nausea?”
“No.” I feel a bit off balance, but that could just as well be about how close Adrian is to me.
And I’m thirsty. So thirsty.
I push my tongue around in my mouth, tracking the insides of my cheeks.
“I’m fine,” I croak. “You’ve got a gash on your forehead.”
There’s dried blood on his face, and a bruise on his cheekbone is already turning a nasty dark blue-purplish color.
He touches his forehead with the tips of his fingers, prodding the wound gently, then checks his fingers for blood before he waves me off. “It’s nothing serious. Head wounds bleed a lot.”
I remember hearing that too, but I’m going to keep my eye on him in case this is him downplaying it to make me feel better. I wouldn’t put it past Adrian.
I glance toward the ocean. Ocean, and nothing else.
There’s nothing there.
Nothing.
“What now?” I ask.
I feel like a little kid, looking for somebody who’ll have all the answers and solutions because I have none. I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels real.
“I… I don’t know,” Adrian admits, and I’m thankful he said it.
He scratches his ear. “Logic says we should be somewhere on the beach, so they can spot us easily when they come looking for us. But we don’t have any water, and if we stay here we’ll sweat and lose whatever our bodies have stored, so in the shade seems better. ”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay. So we need to look for water. Because… we don’t know how long we’ve been here, and we can’t make it without water for very long, so water is our first priority.”
“I’d say so,” Adrian agrees.
Still in a daze, I start to get up. Pain shoots through my leg.
A flashing hot bolt that travels from my heel up my ankle and calf and only starts to ebb somewhere around my lower thigh.
I let out a hiss and drop back on my ass.
I watch gingerly as Adrian pulls off my shoe and rolls up the pant leg.
He holds my foot up to inspect it.
The ankle’s all swollen up. It’s puffy and bloated to the point where it’s difficult to even see the ankle bones. Deep purple bruises cover my ankle and travel up my leg, and the skin looks stretched to its limits, like it’s going to split any moment now.
I make a face and try not to make a sound when he gently turns it, moving the foot carefully in different directions.
“You think it’s broken?” I ask.
He considers it for a bit. “I don’t think it is. Definitely sprained pretty badly though. You need to rest it.”
“We need to go see about water.” I take a deep breath, grit my teeth, and try and get up again.
“What are you doing?” Adrian asks.
“Getting up.”
“No, you’re not. You can’t walk.”
“We can’t just sit here. We have to find help.”
“Yes,” he says. “I’ll go.”
“Alone? Hell no. Absolutely not. We have to stick together.” Sticky panic fills my insides when I think about him wandering off. We don’t know where we are; this could be dangerous.
He looks down and rakes his fingers through his hair. “You can’t walk.”
It might be a solid argument, but the only thing it does is fill me with panic. Staying here alone would be torture, and I can’t do it.
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to calm down.
“Get me a crutch,” I say.
He looks around, then back at me. “From Crutches R Us?”
“Or, you know, a sturdy branch might do the trick?” I say pointedly. He studies me for a long moment. I straighten my shoulders and stare back. “I’ll drag myself after you if you go alone.”
“I’ll bet you a million dollars I can outrun you. No. Make that a billion if we’re already on that path.”
I’m this close to kicking him with my good leg, but I take a deep breath and try and be reasonable. One of us has to. “I will have your back. We don’t know where we are. What if this place has cannibals?”
“You’re right. Let’s jump to the most out there option.”
“Predators,” I say. “Tigers.”
“And you’re plan then is to… buy me some time by letting it eat you first?”
“Fight it off with the crutch you’re going to find me,” I say pleasantly. Through my teeth.
For the next few minutes we glare at each other, neither of us willing to back down. I don’t know why he doesn’t, seeing as I’m right, but whatever.
Then, swiftly, he turns on his heel and starts to stalk toward the trees.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I shout and scramble to get up.
“Sit your ass down,” Adrian barks. “I’m going to find you a branch.”
I drop back onto my ass. Sweat is running down my temples, my ankle is on fire again, but I grit my teeth and ignore the pain.
The second I don’t have Adrian to distract me, the sticky feeling of panic is back. It coats my insides with fear. I need to act. Do something. I definitely, one hundred percent do not want to think right now.