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I sit next to him. “Let me take a look, please.”
“No!” He growls like a wounded animal about to die, then his gaze clouds, and fear fills his eyes. “Grey!”
He must be feeling damn bad if he only just noticed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him clench his hands and his whole body goes into a sort of catalepsy.
I can’t even imagine how he must feel. Even I don’t want to think about Grey. It’s just too cruel. Maybe at the next stop, he’ll walk along the cars whimpering…imagining this almost makes me cry. Can Grey even survive without us? I glance at Bren but don’t dare ask.
“Maybe he’ll jump off at the next stop and find us,” I say hesitantly.
“Maybe.” Bren doesn’t look at me.
I wait a while, but Bren doesn’t say anything, so I gather wood and rocks from the area for the campfire. Unfortunately, I can’t find any birch bark to use as tinder, but the pine needles lying around are dry enough. After ten minutes, I not only laid a stone circle but also managed to create a halfway passable fire. Lucky for me, I watched Bren do it so many times last year.
He’s still sitting on the log and I have the feeling he’s sleeping upright; he seems completely out of it. When I help him lie down, he doesn’t resist.
I carefully slide my down jacket under his kidneys and then touch his forehead—he’s as hot as a baked potato. Shit! We don’t have a thermometer, nor anything to bring down the fever. All of it is in the water, land, or who knows where beyond Vancouver.
I sit on the fallen tree and when I’m certain Bren is asleep, I unwrap the cloth from his left wrist.
I’m taken aback. The wound has festered, its edges and the skin around it inflamed and reddened. No wonder he has such a high fever. But what horrifies me the most is the broad red streak that has worked its way up his arm a hand’s span from the wound. A red tapeworm under the skin!
I know from Avy’s old injury from the electric fence that it is an inflammation of the lymphatic system. I also know that if the stripe reaches the heart, you’ll die. The realization frightens me. Bren has blood poisoning and we lost the broad-spectrum antibiotic because of me, just like Bren was injured because of me.
I stare at his arm as if paralyzed. If Bren doesn’t receive medical attention quickly, he will die. His words from the other day flicker through my mind like grave candles. If left untreated, the risk of death from blood poisoning increases by one percent per hour.
Oh my God!
How long has he had the line? Did he know he had it? Was that why he was acting so strange and worrying about what would happen next? Did he want to rob a pharmacy somewhere or what was he thinking?
Why didn’t he tell me? Why not, Bren?
“Okay, Lou. One step at a time.” Standing, I breathe in and out a few times, willing my mind to quiet down. Check what else you have with you!
First, I rummage through Bren’s cargo pants pockets in hopes of finding something that might help him. In the top pocket, I find some dextrose, a small tube of Aquaphor, a couple of wrapped hardtack biscuits, and a pocketknife. Better than nothing. In the second is the solar power bank, and in the third, Henry Cunningham’s missing person report. It is inside a breakfast bag for protection. Confused, I pull it out and unfold it, looking at the boy who could be Bren’s clone.
Why did you keep the notice, Bren?
We forgot to put it back up that June night like we planned because we were too caught up in our own problems. Did Bren want to hang it elsewhere? Or did he want to keep it? Did the boy remind him of himself after all? The little boy in him? In any case, he taped the two halves neatly together with scotch tape. My eye falls on Henry’s silver chain with the crescent-shaped pendant, the engraved first name, and the tiny star. In the same instant, I realize that my own chain is irretrievably lost because I stuffed it in Bren’s backpack this morning, afraid I’d snag it on the metal parts of the train. Right now, however, I feel completely indifferent about my necklace.
I neatly fold the notice and slip it into my jeans pocket when I realize how valuable my find actually is. I fold up the breakfast bag, stow it in my jeans pocket as well, and continue the search. In another pocket, I find a blister pack with painkillers and my cell phone. I have to swallow. Salvation and downfall. However, I have basically no alternative. I must get help, Bren needs a doctor! At that moment, I must not think about anything that comes afterward.
Heart pounding, I turn on my cell phone, but I have no signal. There is no network here at all, not even within a radius of one hundred sixty feet—that’s how far I dare wander from the fire. I even climb up to the tracks, but there is still no cell tower reception. There’s nothing up here but a stupid gray rock that I can’t climb over.
Jesus fucking Christ! Thank you for nothing!
Can they locate my cell phone if it’s on? I’m sure it has to have a signal for that and my cell phone doesn’t have GPS, I know that from Jayden.
I walk along the rails for a bit, feeling like I’m about to go crazy. I could wait for a train—but if I wait too long, I might not find a stream or river in time. Bren desperately needs something to drink or his body will dehydrate even faster from the fever.
Besides, what could the train engineer do? He certainly won’t stop the train for a girl who looks unkempt and he certainly wouldn’t recognize me. Besides, these freight trains take minutes to come to a stop. Even if I wave my arms frantically, he won’t immediately presume that someone’s life is in danger. No, at most, with a lot of luck and if he sees me at all, he’ll contact a couple of rangers in charge of the area. But who knows how long it would take them to get out here. Bren may not have that much time. Besides, maybe there aren’t even any rangers in charge here, not that I know where we are!
Frightened, I climb down and sink to the dry earth beside Bren. He mumbles incomprehensible words that I can’t understand. I feel his pulse again with apprehension, and this time, it’s not weak but fast and hard. Surely a hundred beats per minute, probably more, and his breathing is rapid.
I watch over him during the night because I can’t go anywhere until it’s light out. I know I’d get hopelessly lost then and that would be certain death. No, I have to wait until daylight, and unfortunately, Grey is not around to stay with him while I search for water or people. I have to leave him helpless and with a high fever in the middle of the wilderness. The thought is terrible.
Again and again, I stroke his face and promise him I’ll think of something. A few times, he wakes up with a start and yells something that sounds like Dad—perhaps I’m merely imagining it. Besides, he would never call his stepfather Dad and he never met his real father.
Is he even still alive? It’s a strange question and I don’t know why I’m wondering about that right now. Maybe because I looked at the photo of Henry again earlier and he looks so much like Bren. Maybe Bren isn’t as alone in the world as he believes. Maybe his father has a wife and children. Then he would actually have a dad, half-siblings, and a stepmother.
