“So now we knew Miguel was around. We called for him, tried to follow blood trails, but we’d walked so long we were turned around and night was falling. Plus, for all we knew, Miguel was walking in circles, too, and we were missing each other. So we stopped. That night, Talla and I stayed put, alternating watch. The next morning, we walked a tight grid, searching for Miguel. We found him, leaning against a rock, barely alive, his face messed up. One eye gone. The baboon did a number on him.”
Heesham looked at Thad, his face furious. “Bart left him there, bro. Bart was Miguel’s support, and when Miguel needed him, he bailed.”
Thad’s jaw ticked.
“Miguel couldn’t walk, and he was really out of it,” Heesham continued. “So I picked him up and started back to the City. We’d been walking for maybe an hour, when we heard a girl scream. A little girl scream, you know? At first I thought it was another monkey, a trick of my head. Then we saw a girl, running naked. She was fast, man, like the wind. Then we saw the wolf. Mangy-looking thing, it was after her. It happened fast. I had Miguel; Talla’s hands were free. She took my blade and went running. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to leave Miguel; he couldn’t protect himself. And I didn’t know if Talla could handle the wolf, and it was too late to follow.” Heesham took a deep breath, visibly struggling to hold it together.
“So I tracked toward the City. Alone for hours, carrying Miguel and keeping him talking. Then like a gift from Allah, an outbound flashed four meters out. I ran, said a prayer, and threw Miguel in. He’s gone.”
Everyone sat silent.
The moment was surreal.
The blue sky, free of clouds. The gentle breeze, making the trees sing. The ocean roaring, the fire crackling, the fish baking. Talla bloody and unconscious, Heesham bloody and furious. Miya, bloody and fragile, a wounded bird, curled by the fire. Miguel bloody and gone. Bart missing.
Julio came up from the beach, soaking wet. “Miguel made it?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Heesham’s face was blank.
Throwing his fist in the air, Julio shouted something in Spanish. Still grinning, he asked, “And Talla’s back?”
As Heesham nodded. Julio frowned, looking over our group. “Where’s Bart?”
“Don’t know,” Heesham said. “But when we find him, I get him first.”
“Take a number,” Rives said, appearing by the fire. His face was stormy. “Talla’s got a fever.”
CHAPTER
45
CHARLEY
DAY 35, TWILIGHT
Please let Talla’s fever break tonight.
I’d never thought about what it would be like to be sick on Nil, and Talla was worse than ever. Floating in and out of consciousness, her skin burned hotter than a gate.
The past two days had been awful. Jillian packed Talla’s wound with deadleaf, but her fevered sleep stayed restless, and none of us knew how to brew Sabine’s deadsleep tea to help ease Talla’s pain. Too strong and it would kill rather than soothe; it was a risk no one was willing to take. Sabine’s loss had never been more apparent. Without the tea, both Rives and Jillian worked in shifts to keep Talla cool and comfortable, but Rives’s frustration was evident.
We need a doctor, Rives vented to Thad after dinner tonight.A real doctor, with real meds.
Thad had gripped Rives’s shoulder.We’re doing all we can. And she has you, and our prayers. The rest is up to her. Talla’s strong, Rives. Don’t count her out.
Thad’s words made me feel better. If anyone could beat the fever, it was Talla. After all, she’d survived Rory, she’d fought the wolf, and she’d saved Miya.
Now she had to save herself.
CHAPTER
46
THAD
DAY 303, EARLY MORNING
Talla died last night.
