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I whispered, “Sorry, I almost fell off…”

He said, “Och… nae…” then went quiet.

I whispered, “Are you asleep?”

There was no answer. I looked back at Dude, sleeping soundly.

It dawned on me then that Torin’s hand was too warm. I pressed it to my cheek and then climbed from the bed. He had a fever.

Dammit. His breaths were short and quick. I tried to get on top of rising panic, confusedly wondering what I should do. It was pitch black dark.

I felt around on the table for the washrag, dipped it in the bowl the monks had left, and wrung it out. The water was cool. I pressed it to Torin’s forehead, my hands shaking a little. I whispered, “You’re burning up, Torin.” I turned the cloth and wiped down the side of his face, along his jaw, then I dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and pressed it to his forehead again.

I kept at it until my arms ached and the water in the bowl had gone warm. After a while, thankfully, his breathing slowed and deepened. When I pressed the cloth to his forehead again he turned his face a little into it, a small, restless movement, and his skin under my hand felt less hot than before.

I did it once more, then set the cloth aside. He was still warm, but not the same burning heat.

I could barely keep my eyes open.

I stealthily climbed over Torin and shoved Dude’s ass aside and slid into the sliver of bed against the wall. The damn cat said, “Meow,” like I was bothering him.

“Wheesht, Dude, or I’ll make you go sleep in the stables.”

It was a tight fit, but at least this side of Torin was uninjured, mostly. But still, I couldn’t curl up on him like I wanted. Instead I would have to sleep completely stiff and straight on my side, in the dark with my eyes not adjusting, staring at the wall.

Man, this was going to be a long night.

7

ALEXANDRIA

1308 - THE WHEELS FLY OFF THIS BUS…

Iwas right, that night was the longest of my life.

Torin slept through. Too still, which was unsettling, then moaning, which was panic inducing. He was a little too warm. I washed his face with cool, damp cloths, and tried to tell myself that the heat was fine. This was him healing, and not some kind of infection that would take him away.

He had to be thirsty. He needed water. I picked up the small clay cup, slid one arm under his neck, and lifted his head just enough. “Drink, my love, I need you to drink.” His lips parted. I tipped the cup and let the water touch them, but most of it ran down his chin. I wiped it with my thumb, then tried again, slower. This time he swallowed. Once. Twice. I held him there until the cup was empty, and then gently laid his head back on the pillow.

I sat there watching him sleep and couldn’t get this question out of my mind: How would we get out of here?

I also couldn’t get this song out of my head — The wheels on the bus go round and round round and round, round and round, all through the town…

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had heard that song, but now it was in my mind, omnipresent.

A monk carried in a tray of food at dawn, just like I had imagined.

Torin opened an eye, mumbled, “Nae… nae hungry,” and turned over to his side to sleep more.

I tried to tell myself that rolling onto his side was a good sign. He had been flat on his back, now he looked comfortable — more sleep-at-home-like, less hospital-bed-like. But it bothered me that he had turned down food. I had never known him to do that before.

I ate, sitting on a stool beside the bed, watching him sleep in a morning that was still too damn dim.

I hummed to myself, The driver on the bus said move on back, move on back, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all through the town…

I was going to go crazy.

What happened to Lexi?