The Unknown

xlvii. dire

Kyle's condition declined rapidly in the night. 

In the morning, I was awoken by a splitting headache, making matters worse. Kyle stayed curled by the fire, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. His arms were wrapped tightly around his torso as if they were holding his body together.

"I don't think he can walk now," I said to Matt, nodding somberly at Kyle.

Matt raked his fingers uneasily through his hair, his hand lingering on the back of his neck. "So what do we do?"

I rested my head on my folded knees. "We wait."

There was silence for several minutes. I stared into space, sinking into a haze as I tried to ignore the radiating pain inside my skull.

Then Matt spoke, making me flinch. "We need to keep moving. It's getting colder by the day. We can find a bridge to cross the river and head straight south. It's the only way we'll survive—"

"Kyle can't walk, Matt. We're not going anywhere."

I could see his jaw clench. "Maybe he won't be going anywhere anyway," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He was silent until the words seemed to spill out all at once. "You saw what happened to your friend, Zara. No sense in waiting around for the inevitable."

It felt like I'd been slapped. "You could say the same thing about, me, Matt. But something tells me you wouldn't talk about leaving me behind."

He looked at me coldly. A shudder rippled down my spine.

"Or would you?" I said uncertainly.

"Didn't you already tell me I should, 'when the time comes?'"

My throat got tight.

"If you're not even going to try to survive, then maybe that time is now." He spoke with chilling finality.

"Matt, I—"

"I'll stay with you through the night. See if he gets any better. But then I'm leaving tomorrow, with or without you. I think that's reasonable."

I sat back, drawing my legs tighter against myself. I couldn't argue with him. Maybe because my headache was too overwhelming, or maybe because I didn't disagree with him. He deserved to go on and give himself a chance at survival. I didn't want to weigh him down, and I didn't want to believe what he'd said yesterday was true—that I only wanted him around for his usefulness and to remind me of better days.

"I'm sorry, Matt," I said heavily.

That night was eerily still, with no wind, though the air was still freezing. There were no crickets nor buzzing mosquitos; the insects were dormant for the winter. And now there was an unfamiliar tenseness between Matt and I, adding to my unease.

I scooted closer to Kyle, making sure there were no gaps between his clothes to let the cold air in, and diligently checking that he was still breathing every few minutes.

I must have eventually slumped against him and fallen asleep, because that's the position I woke up in. His teeth were chattering in my ear when I opened my eyes, taking in the glaring sun reflected against fallen snow. I sat up as my memory slowly returned to me like an old computer powering on.

Matt. I looked around, recalling our conversation. He was nowhere to be seen.

Our fire, the only thing between us and certain death by hypothermia, had been reduced to smoldering ash. My heart skipped when I realized how shallowly Kyle was breathing. His lips were blue.

I reached for Shaun's backpack, aiming to find the lighter he'd brought from the city, but it was missing along with Matt. I drew in a sharp breath, my head whirling around in a panic.

Stumbling to my feet, I realized my hands and feet were ice; I couldn't even make a fist. Still, I willed myself forward into the trees and shrugged off my jacket, gasping from the cold. I kicked sticks and leaves onto it—anything that might help to keep the fire alive. Then I bunched my jacket up and returned to our camp, slowly adding the tinder and kindling to the glowing ashes.

To my relief, the flames flared to life again. I'd need to keep it going constantly, otherwise, it would be too hard to reignite. I pictured myself frantically rubbing two sticks together with my useless, numb fingers, and almost let out a deranged laugh.

Carefully, I pushed Kyle closer to the heat source. He groaned, raising his lolling head without opening his eyes.

"It's okay. Go to sleep," I said softly.

He didn't respond but faintly smiled and obeyed my order.

Time was running thin.

The words of Jade's note echoed in my mind, a tormented conflict brewing in my blood.

Kyle had told me death was more appealing to him than surrender. This was the only thing stopping me from carrying out her instructions right then and there. I felt frozen in more ways than one, my indecision and our peril weighing me down like an anchor.

The day blurred by with frightening speed. Kyle was unable to make conversation in his state, and I was busy keeping us alive, between maintaining the fire and searching for what little food was still available.  Mostly, though, I just sat and stared into the fire, left with too much time to think. Horror and guilt kept seeping into my thoughts with vivid images of all that I'd seen and done. The worse my headache got, the more consuming these feelings became.

Before I knew it, the sun was setting again. Pain and exhaustion soon overtook my hyperactive mind until I couldn't hang onto a thought.

That night, I had the strangest dream that I was washing dishes. It was my least favorite chore as a kid. But in this dream, I was enjoying the simple mundanity of the activity—the swirling soap bubbles and the seemingly infinite running water at the turn of a knob. How privileged I had been that this was once my biggest complaint in life. Having to do dishes.