“I want to spend my last hours with you,” Thad whispered. “Just you.”
“Not your last hours,” I corrected. “Your last hourshere.”
“Right.”
I stared at him. “Don’t you dare give up on me,” I said fiercely, holding his gaze.
“I would never give up on you.” His blue eyes were so raw that it hurt. “Never.”
“Not on me,” I corrected. “On you. On yourself.”
“Charley.” Emotions flickered across his face like the iridescent colors of a shimmer, too many at once, shifting too quickly to read. “I’m just being realistic.”
The bear, I thought. Yesterday had changed everything; I knew it.I don’t want her to bury me,he’d said.
“No,” I said sharply. “Don’t do this. Don’t give up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He leaned forward and kissed my bottom lip, the one I’d been biting. “So,” he said, cocking one eyebrow and smiling devilishly, “I’ve got an idea of how we can pass the time this morning. Something you asked for, and I said no.”
“You want to fool around?” I asked, incredulous. “But—” I tried to make sense of his sudden change of mind.
And then he changed his mind again.
“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. We can’t. It’s selfish of me. It’s just—” He broke off. “I shouldn’t have said anything. No brain-to-mouth filter today.” He grinned wryly, but a shadow lurked in his eyes, darkening the blue. Something I couldn’t read, but wanted to.
Slowly, I reached up and traced his scar, the tiny mountain over his eyebrow. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said softly. “Please.”
He closed his eyes. “Charley.” His voice broke. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. About why I’m here.”
A roar cut the air, too close for comfort. Thad’s eyes flew open, and he scanned the area around us.
“Mad grizzly,” I said, taking a heavy breath.
“Yup,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let’s pack and roll.” Clearly the time for talk was over.
I just nodded. Hope wasn’t strong enough, and my prayers for a gate were already sent.
There wasn’t much to pack. All we had left to eat was some dried fruit. I wanted to keep talking, but I wouldn’t press, not today.
As we hiked inland, Rives was our shadow. A silent follower, lagging far enough behind that it felt like just me and Thad, but Rives never lost us, and we never lost him. I knew without asking that Thad wanted me to have company on the return trip.
I didn’t share that I’d already planned it out. I’d take Thad’s eight-inch blade, the one he wore on his belt. He wouldn’t take it with him. I’d also take his necklace and wear it with mine. I already had his bow, the one he used to make fire. I knew how to work it, sawing until my hands grew tired and an ember glowed, and I knew to use coconut husks as tinder, the drier the better. I’d learned so much from Thad, skills I’d use to survive until it was my turn. And I’d head back with Rives, taking a different route, using my maps to avoid the grizzly. These were my secrets, the plans I didn’t share with Thad.
His secrets, my secrets. Island secrets. They formed an invisible gulf between us, and I hated it.
“We’re almost there,” Thad said. His first words in an hour—they sounded forced.
Our feet touched black rock. Red blazed to the right. We’d decided last night to head to the newer lava fields, the ones I’d foundmy first day on Nil. Two different flows, two different times. One red, one black, straddling Quadrants Two and Three. Using yesterday’s gate as a reference, we’d headed north, putting us in position for today.
At the junction of the two fields, we paused.
“Red or black?” I asked. It was Thad’s call, and it was time.
“I’m betting on black,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. “A little Russian roulette, Nil style.”
“That’s not funny,” I said. “It’s not a game.”
Thad’s jaw ticked. “Right.”
