28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hector
Two days pass and the rain doesn't let up.
Charon drifts between consciousness, shivers wracking his body from fever. All I can do is slump against the wall with his head on my lap and wait for the storm to pass.
There’s no food here, no dry clothes. Just the sound of the rain pummeling the lighthouse and Nyx's feathers ruffling whenever the lightning hits too close. My stomach growls hungrily.
When was the last time I ate something? Days ago? I can't even remember. All I know is the frenzy hasn't hit, for one reason or another, and I'm not questioning it. Maybe my body is just too malnourished to react .
Around us, the wind blows in from cracks in the foundation. Water leaks from up above, forming a pool of red near the far side of the circular space. A spiral staircase that once led to the top now sits rusted through, steps broken and crumbling.
Old, moldy crates pile in one corner. I’d hoped they might hold supplies when I checked earlier, but they were empty, just nests of long-decayed rodents. Whatever this place must have been was abandoned long ago.
Nyx lands near the entrance, cawing low before hopping away into the shadows, probably feeling cooped up.
I run a hand over Charon’s damp strands, brushing them away from his face. He’d gotten sick last night, vomiting up more river muck, and it's only getting worse. His skin is too warm, breath too shallow. He needs something to drink and medicine. Probably food, too.
I don't know what the fuck to do.
If I could go back to Aster’s Hollow, I would.
Try to find rations, bring them here. But I have no idea how far we’ve drifted—if it’s a mile or fifty.
Hiking there could take days, and I’ve only got one foot.
Charon doesn’t have days. What if I turn while he's passed out and he can't fight me off? What if I kill him? I'd rather die.
“Charon,” I whisper, pulling him closer. Tears sting my eyes. “I don't know how to help you.”
We're trapped, and it's probably all my fault.
If I had just let him end Jonas instead of wanting the kill for myself, we would have had time to think of a plan, some other escape besides the raging river.
But I was selfish. I wanted retribution, and I wanted Charon.
Somehow, those two goals became entangled in my head until I couldn't have one without the other. Now look where we ended up.
A scuffle in the dark catches my attention, sending my heart racing. My grip tightens, every muscle locked for a fight, but a disgruntled caw stirs the air.
Nyx swoops out of the shadows, something caught in her talons. She drops it on the floor beside me before landing a few feet away, head cocked in my direction.
I gaze down at it, my cracked lips curling in disgust. “That’s…a dead rat.”
She clicks her beak, nudging the vermin toward me. “ Good to go.”
“Nyx, we can't eat a rat. It's infected—” I cut myself off, a flare of anger slicing through me at the memory of Lena's lies. “It probably has all kinds of diseases.” Well. Not that I suppose it would matter, with my rotter immune system. But for Charon, it would. “It's filthy.”
She caws angrily, kicking the thing before taking off toward the wooden crates in a flurry of feathers.
“I looked in those already, there's nothing . We have no food, no water, no fucking fire—”
Once again, I stop mid-sentence when my gaze drops to the crate she's dancing on, the one made of decaying wood.
Wood that can burn .
Hope blooms in my chest.
I slide Charon off my lap and lower him gently to the ground, brushing his matted strands away from his fevered brow. “Hold on, okay? I'll make it better.”
Nyx flutters aside when I step closer to prying up every dry shard of wood I can find. Bits of packing straw cling to the bottom, too, maybe enough to use as kindling. I pile what I can salvage in the middle of the floor.
It should all work fine, but…how to ignite it?
Searching the edges of the room, I look for something to use as a flint. Old bits of metal piping catch my eye, along with a rock just jagged enough to spark. There's no guarantee I'll be able to get a fire going, but at this point, I'll try anything.
Whatever I can do to see that smile on Charon’s face again.
Kneeling on the cracked floor, I press some straw between two thin slats and start striking with my rock once, twice. Ten times.
A ragged breath punches out of me, sweat mixing with the grime and river filth clinging to my skin. My palms begin to bleed as I try over, and over, and over—
Finally, something sparks.
But dies instantly.
Gritting my teeth, I try again, hunching over like a fucking cave dweller. Another spark ignites, followed by a twitch of smoke.
“Come on, come on,” I whisper through my teeth, begging the gods or the universe or whatever is listening as I strike again.
The smoke grows, straw hissing with a crackle, and then…blessedly, a flame.
I almost snuff it out when a relieved laugh leaves my lungs, curling my body around the warmth to feed it slivers of wood. The fire grows brighter.
Behind me, Charon shifts, letting out a quiet breath. I turn toward him just long enough to whisper, “I got you, baby. Just hang on. ”
The rat comes next. I skewer it with a piece of rusted metal, gagging slightly as I hold it over the flames.
Nyx flutters down from wherever she was perched, landing beside me. “ Good to go.”
I just nod, too tired to respond.
The flames dance in the gloom, casting wild shadows on the crumbling walls. I turn the meat slowly while wincing at the sound of sizzling fur. It smells vile, but it’s food. We don’t have the luxury of being picky.
When the thing looks less…disgusting, I tear it in two with my fingers and scarf down my half without thought, no time for gagging. My body needs it.
Charon moves again, and I crawl the short distance between us. “Hey.”
His skin’s still too warm, cheeks flushed in a way that has nothing to do with the fire. But his eyes crack open just enough for me to catch a glint of recognition.
“You with me?” I ask, touching his forehead.
He blinks once.
“I made a fire. Cooked you a rat and everything.” A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, cracking my heart in two as I press the meat to his lips. “Eat. Just a little, okay?”
It takes a second, but then his mouth parts, and I ease the bite inside. He chews agonizingly slow, but he does it, swallowing hard when he’s finished.
“That’s it,” I breathe, brushing a kiss over his cheek. “I'll figure out how to boil us some water next.”
Nyx flutters up onto another crate and tucks her beak under her wing, content for now.
The rain keeps pounding against the lighthouse above, that pool of red water on the floor growing darker.
But Charon is still breathing. His fingers curl around my leg as I feed him small bites at a time, planting kisses all over his face.
Later, I’ll explore more of this place when he’s fed.
For now, we're still here. Surviving.
That’s all the hope I can afford.