is most fine. We will reunite with your friend soon, if the spirits are truthful …”
“Her name is Mari anne ,” I correct her.
“Oh, of course.” Dana bites her lip, her face wrinkling. “I wonder why I said the other name.”
“We’ll need to ration our food,” the delivery boy cuts in quietly, hugging his satchel. “I didn’t get much.” He stares sadly at the ground, his once white uniform now decorated with ashen stains and smears. His third red eyebrow has turned dark, the blood having dried.
“Let’s rest, then,” I say, despite the incessant pulling in my stomach. I’ll have to take Dana’s sugar-coated lie as my only comfort. Please, Marianne … Please be safe. And if by some miracle you are, then stay safe.
After a little bite of dried, tasteless fruit, and a human function or four done in private behind a tree, we settle in our space for the setting sun—assuming it’s setting, as we have no means by which to tell, the greedy fog floating in the way. Dana leans against a knobby charcoaled tree, petting it as though it were telling her a bedtime story that only she hears. East has made a pillow of his satchel, curled into a ball on the ground with his hands tucked between his thighs, and though he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’s staring despondently at nothing.
John and I share the trunk of a tree at the opposite end of the clearing apart from the other two. His thick arm pushes into my shoulder, but I hardly feel it, picking at my nails and wondering why the hell I didn’t plunge right back across that cursed river in search of my friend.
“I’m glad you’re with me,” I whisper.
John shrugs, the muscles in his shoulder contracting. “I couldn’t have let you go alone.”
“You could have,” I reason. “The food in my condo could have kept you fed for weeks. You could have easily snuck out and gone back home too, if you wanted.”
He turns his head. “Huh? No. I’m not going home to face my sad, disappointed parents, not until I’m an official student at the university. We’ve already gone over this.”
“But now, you’re a criminal because of me. We’re all criminals. If we ever get back home …”
“We’ll be coming back with proof of the Dead,” he reminds me. He brings a hand to my arm, and his fingers brush down the length of it. Pleasant tingles drift through my body. His hand rests on mine, then he turns his body and puts an arm around me, pulling me in close to him. It’s the first time in a while that it feels like we’re truly alone. I wonder if it’s totally inappropriate or selfish of me to want him to kiss me, right here and now.
“You’re warm,” I realize, tightening my body into his. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d gotten. Sometimes it feels like we just met a few days ago. Sometimes it’s like I’ve known him my whole life. “It’s so miserable here. I hate the cold. I want to go home.”
“We will,” he says calmly. “We have to. I’m certain there’s some mechanism on that craft that’s alerted the university of exactly where it crashed. They’ll have a rescue party out to collect us.”
I lift my head so my icy eyes fall right into his muddy brown ones. He’s so damn handsome, even dirtied up and rugged in the Undead wilderness. “Are you sure?”
“We better have our proof by the time they find us.” He smiles. Or, rather, he makes a subtle smirk with his lips, which I know to be his version of smiling. John, the eternally brooding, the stoic …
I bring my lips to his. My heart rushes into my throat. His hand slips behind my neck, caressing me as I melt apart in his arms. For the first time in a long time, I’m reminded what it felt like when we first met. It was right after my embarrassing speech to my class about the so-named Beautiful Dead, and he gave me a moment’s half-distracted consolation before running away from me, escaping the watchful eyes of campus authorities who’d been searching him out
“Her name is Mari anne ,” I correct her.
“Oh, of course.” Dana bites her lip, her face wrinkling. “I wonder why I said the other name.”
“We’ll need to ration our food,” the delivery boy cuts in quietly, hugging his satchel. “I didn’t get much.” He stares sadly at the ground, his once white uniform now decorated with ashen stains and smears. His third red eyebrow has turned dark, the blood having dried.
“Let’s rest, then,” I say, despite the incessant pulling in my stomach. I’ll have to take Dana’s sugar-coated lie as my only comfort. Please, Marianne … Please be safe. And if by some miracle you are, then stay safe.
After a little bite of dried, tasteless fruit, and a human function or four done in private behind a tree, we settle in our space for the setting sun—assuming it’s setting, as we have no means by which to tell, the greedy fog floating in the way. Dana leans against a knobby charcoaled tree, petting it as though it were telling her a bedtime story that only she hears. East has made a pillow of his satchel, curled into a ball on the ground with his hands tucked between his thighs, and though he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’s staring despondently at nothing.
John and I share the trunk of a tree at the opposite end of the clearing apart from the other two. His thick arm pushes into my shoulder, but I hardly feel it, picking at my nails and wondering why the hell I didn’t plunge right back across that cursed river in search of my friend.
“I’m glad you’re with me,” I whisper.
John shrugs, the muscles in his shoulder contracting. “I couldn’t have let you go alone.”
“You could have,” I reason. “The food in my condo could have kept you fed for weeks. You could have easily snuck out and gone back home too, if you wanted.”
He turns his head. “Huh? No. I’m not going home to face my sad, disappointed parents, not until I’m an official student at the university. We’ve already gone over this.”
“But now, you’re a criminal because of me. We’re all criminals. If we ever get back home …”
“We’ll be coming back with proof of the Dead,” he reminds me. He brings a hand to my arm, and his fingers brush down the length of it. Pleasant tingles drift through my body. His hand rests on mine, then he turns his body and puts an arm around me, pulling me in close to him. It’s the first time in a while that it feels like we’re truly alone. I wonder if it’s totally inappropriate or selfish of me to want him to kiss me, right here and now.
“You’re warm,” I realize, tightening my body into his. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d gotten. Sometimes it feels like we just met a few days ago. Sometimes it’s like I’ve known him my whole life. “It’s so miserable here. I hate the cold. I want to go home.”
“We will,” he says calmly. “We have to. I’m certain there’s some mechanism on that craft that’s alerted the university of exactly where it crashed. They’ll have a rescue party out to collect us.”
I lift my head so my icy eyes fall right into his muddy brown ones. He’s so damn handsome, even dirtied up and rugged in the Undead wilderness. “Are you sure?”
“We better have our proof by the time they find us.” He smiles. Or, rather, he makes a subtle smirk with his lips, which I know to be his version of smiling. John, the eternally brooding, the stoic …
I bring my lips to his. My heart rushes into my throat. His hand slips behind my neck, caressing me as I melt apart in his arms. For the first time in a long time, I’m reminded what it felt like when we first met. It was right after my embarrassing speech to my class about the so-named Beautiful Dead, and he gave me a moment’s half-distracted consolation before running away from me, escaping the watchful eyes of campus authorities who’d been searching him out
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