Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

I'm paralyzed. Bren obviously notices my wide eyes because he turns his head immediately. The gray rock wall flies toward us. There is no time to lie flat on the roof or even to think about if there is enough space for us between the tunnel roof and the top of the train.

"Jump!" Bren pulls me down and all I can feel is us falling through space. Seconds pass through an hourglass as if in slow motion. Anything could be below us. Hard rock, earthy forest, deep water, or a bottomless abyss. I hear myself screaming and feel Bren's arms around me, trying to protect me with his whole body. I want to protect him too but can't. Panic races through my veins, then there's a hard jolt, and I hear Bren groan.

The next moment, the night is spinning. Bren's face, treetops, the night sky, and the dark ground pass by as if I were looking into a kaleidoscope. I reflexively squeeze my eyes shut and see the pain behind my closed eyelids, which transforms into splintering images; yellow and fiery red flashes like broken glass. I involuntarily claw at Brendan until, finally, we come to a stop with me on top of him.

I can't move for several breaths, paralyzed by the shock of the fall. My heart is racing, I feel sick to my stomach, but then I blink several times to collect my bearings. In front of me is a steep slope with tall fir trees, which we just rolled down together. The train tracks are higher up and I can still hear the cars rushing by. Dazed, I shake my head and take stock of my body, which pulls and burns in different places. But it doesn't seem too bad, maybe a few scratches and bruises, nothing else.

"Bren!" I kneel over him and look into his face. All the air leaves my lungs. He is deathly pale and his eyes are closed. Cold fear fills my heart.

"Bren, are you okay?" My cheeks are still wet from the tears I just cried and, shaking, I hold a hand over his mouth and nose.

Breathe! Please breathe!

Agonizing seconds elapse before I feel the gentle moist breath of air on my palm. A tremor shakes my body. He's alive! But he may be injured, maybe even seriously.

"Bren?" I gently touch his temple with my fingertips. He's probably unconscious or has a concussion. As smoothly as I can, I turn his head to the side with unsteady hands, checking for external wounds, feeling for the dampness of blood because it's much darker here in the forest than on the hill where the tracks run.

A spot on the back of his head is warm and damp. "Damn it!" I frantically search my jacket for a handkerchief, find one, and press it against the injury.

"Bren?" He doesn't move. I feel the panic rising inside me, but I can't cry anymore. I'm far too horrified, adrenaline pumping through my veins like a stimulant.

Open your eyes! Please, please, open your eyes! Tell me you're okay! If I hadn't climbed onto the roof, Bren wouldn't be lying here. It's my fault! Yet again!

"Bren, can you hear me?" I hurriedly remove my down jacket and cover Bren with it. He mustn't freeze under any circumstances, that I remember from last summer.

Think, Lou! What else do you have to do?

My head is a mess, full of guilt and fear. I'll check his bleeding head injury again, but it's not the biggest problem. What if he has internal injuries or a fractured skull? I don't know how he fell or what he struck on impact. I feel sick to my stomach and my hands are shaking so much, I can hardly do anything with them. First, I wrestled the promise from him, then in the end, it might be why I lose him.

I bend over him in a panic, feeling his pulse. It is barely detectable it is so weak. Oh, no! Tears stream out of my eyes until blinded by the tears, I can hardly see anything anymore.

"Bren, can you hear me?" I try again, but he doesn't move. He lies on the ground as if dead, pale and rigid. I take the down jacket and stuff it under his feet so they're higher than his heart. "Please, wake up!" I want to scream for help until someone comes, but who would hear me here? Besides, then we would be discovered, which would be disastrous if Bren woke up right away and maybe wasn't hurt so bad after all. My mind races. I jump up, wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, and take in our surroundings. I don't see much. To my left is the steep slope and to my right a forest with tall black firs. A fierce wind moves through the dark treetops, making them howl like a pack of wolves.

Like a pack of wolves!

I wince. Grey! Oh my God, he's still on the train! My heart almost stops. I can't believe it. Grey is still on the car, waiting for us to come back!

I put my hands in front of my face. The second backpack is also nowhere to be found. My legs buckle under me and I throw up as I always do when I'm upset. I retch until my stomach is a rock-hard knot and I spit green bile. When I'm finished, I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater and kneel next to Bren again. Horrifying visions of people who have forgotten everything and do not recognize anyone after deep unconsciousness flood my mind. Maybe he's in a coma? In my imagination, I see him dying here in the forest and me having to walk alone along the rails back toward civilization, my heart so heavy that I don't care if the next train catches me and knocks me off my feet.

I stroke his face again and again. "You promised not to leave me," I sob dryly. "Open your eyes, please!"

This time he actually blinks. "Lou?" His eyes search for me in the darkness.

"Bren!" Tears of relief fill my eyes. He woke up and he recognizes me!

"Ah…" A pained groan escapes his lips. "Lou—are you all right?"

I would love to slap him just for fun, I'm so happy and perplexed. How can he ask about me when he's the one almost going comatose in front of me? "I'm fine!" I say shakily.

"But you're crying!"

More and more tears stream down my cheeks. "I thought you were dying!" I sob. "Oh, God, Bren, I was so scared!"

"Oh, Lou!" Bren looks at me and I lean in closer. A brief smile crosses his pale face, but then it immediately turns into a pained grimace.

"Where are you hurt?"

"It's nothing." He tries to sit up but falls back with an agonized gasp.

It physically hurts to see him in this condition.

"It's my fault," I say miserably, trying to blink away the tears. Maybe he has broken bones.

"It's okay, Lou." He leans on his elbows, tries to push himself up, and this time manages to raise his torso. His eyes flicker.

"Should I help you?"

"No!"

Of course not!

He is breathing heavily and supporting himself seems to cost him all his strength. He stays in this position for a while, then braces himself on his hands and forcefully pushes himself into a sitting position. Sweat runs down his face. His hair is damp.

"It's fine, Lou, don't blame yourself," he chokes out in agony. I don't say anything, but my guilt is plaguing me. Bren only meant well by worrying about my future.

I watch in silence as he struggles with the pain. Where are you hurt? It's nothing!

"I know you don't like to show weakness, but even Stevie Wonder would see that you're not doing good," I finally say.

"Is he still alive?" Bren asks, coughing a few times and doubling over in pain.

I struggle not to start crying again. "I don't know," I say when he's sitting upright again. "I don't care right now, either! Bren! Don't lie to me, I can't handle that."

He looks at me, and for a moment, I'm scared because he doesn't seem to see me and acts as if he'd dozed off sitting up, but then finally he says, "My head hurts and I think I've broken a few ribs…but that's not…"

"Then what is?"

"We have to make a fire… I've got a lighter in my pocket."

Holy cow! That's good news! "I'll make the fire."

"I'll help you."

"So, what else is wrong?"

"It's not so important…"

"Bren!"

"The cut on my hand hurts a bit, but I'm sure it'll pass." Bren tries to rise, and without him asking, I support him since it's no use trying to stop him anyway. He growls indignantly but doesn't reject me. Finally, he's standing up, shaking like an alcoholic in withdrawal.

"You can't help me; you can't even stand by yourself!" He must be in a great deal of pain. A huge lump sticks in my throat.

He takes a few hesitant steps, struggling against my grip. "I can do it, Lou! You don't have to hold me up like an old man."

I let go of him and he stumbles, so I grab him again. This time, he puts up with my help without any protest. He's too weak and badly injured. He's also incredibly hot, which I just noticed. "You're glowing!" I sound more startled than intended.

Bren feebly waves it off. "Never mind, a little fever won't kill me."

He knows he has a fever? Maybe he's been feeling sick for a while. I noticed he looked awful earlier on the train.

He nods to a tree trunk on the ground that can be used as a bench. "There! We can make a fire there."

"You're not going to do anything but rest!" I say in the commanding tone he usually claims as his own. I help him sit and can feel how taxing it is for him. He takes a deep inhale and curses under his breath.

"May I take a look at you?"

Bren shakes his head with clenched teeth. "It's only broken ribs, no need to panic."

"Our neighbor, old Mr. Johnson, broke a couple of his ribs once and they almost punctured his lungs! He even had to go to the hospital because he had trouble breathing." I try to stay calm, but it's difficult.

"I've often had my ribs broken during fights, I know how it feels when bone fragments get stuck in your pleura or lungs, believe me."

I picture Bren continuing to fight even with his ribs fractured and can't help but shake my head.

"Adrenaline helps with the pain," he says as if he has to explain.

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.

Lost in thought, I unwrap Liam's scarf from my neck and spread it out on the ground in the shape of a triangle. I place the cell phone, power bank, pocketknife, Henry Cunningham's notice, and the rest of the stuff I found on it and form a small pouch I can tie around my waist.

Exhausted, I close my eyes and listen to the fire, but the crackling of the flames doesn't calm me down, instead, it seems threatening, as if hundreds of demons of death were whispering within. I can only pray I find water tomorrow or preferably a town or village with a pharmacy.