“You could have internal injuries. We can’t treat that here.”
“And the one and only doctor in this safe zone could get bitten before I even see him. Then what? All of this for nothing?” Her face softens, her tears brimming at the edges, glinting in the dim light. “I want to be here with you.”
He dips the cot with his weight, sitting close and taking her hand in his, stroking his thumb over her knuckles to caress each tiny tremor. “And I want to be with you. But I can’t be if you die here. If you leave me like that, there’s no going back. But if youget help, then there’s still a chance. We can still find each other again.”
She looks away, her gasp at the movement hard to hear when he can’t help. “And if I can’t get back here again? We almost died the first time, Theo.”
“As long as we’re both alive, there’s hope. Look at me.” He curves a finger under her chin, urging her gaze to meet his. “You really think you can shake me this easily?”
She huffs out an amused sound at his poor joke, clutching her ribs harder, her next words full of defeat. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know. I know, sweetheart. I don’t want you to, but you have to.”
“I’ll be…” Her reply is cut short by a coughing fit that expels another round of blood, and she sags against him, wiping her mouth when she’s finished. “I’ll be so fucking mad at you if I never see you again.”
Theo’s chest aches worse than any pain he’s felt before. Worse than his dislocated shoulder, both times. Worse than getting hit by that polar bear or any of his father’s horrible trials. The world is demanding that he make an impossible choice when all he wants is to be selfish and keep her by his side.
Instead, he will watch while she leaves.
It feels settled even though they haven’t come right out and said the words. She’s taking the only seat on the plane, and he’ll let it happen because it’s the only way to save her life. Then he’ll spend the rest of his time on this doomed planet trying to get back to her. The thought alone makes his stomach twist like someone is raking their nails across his insides.
“There’s another storm coming in fast. We need to move now if we’re going,” Wyatt says, popping around the doorframe.
“Yeah,” Theo sniffles. “Yeah, she’s going with you.”
He gets a nod in return. “Can you care for the remaining animals if you’re staying back?”
“I can.”
“Alright then. Need help getting to the plane?”
“I’ve got her,” Theo says quietly.
“Wait. I need a pen and some paper,” Nora gestures to the counter across the room. “Please, I’ll be fast.”
He finds her both as requested and watches as she scribbles across the tattered paper, lips pressed together, teeth clenched as if holding back a scream, before handing him the results.
“That’s how much you take for your headaches. Exactly that amount. No more. No less. You have to be certain. Okay?”
He’s going to cry right here in front of them both. Drop to his knees and beg her to stay. Say he’s changed his mind and this is a terrible plan. How can he lose someone who cares so much about him when no one else ever has? His hands tighten around the paper, knuckles white.
He swallows that desire and does what’s best for her. “Okay. That um, that reminds me.” He writes down an address before ripping it off the paper and shoving it in her pocket. “You’ll find my goats there. It’s rural. Safe. A good place to hold up. Last resort, okay? If everything else fails, then this is where I’ll be going. So maybe you can look after them for me until I get there?”
It wouldn’t make sense for them to meet up here. The journey was rough the first time. If he survives…if she survives, then relying on the safe zone to remain that way indefinitely is a fool’s wish. They need a backup plan, and his farm is the perfect place. It may be a ridiculous amount of optimism to assume even one of them could make it there, but if he doesn’t hold onto a sliver of hope, he’ll crumble where he stands. The weight of impending separation is already pressing on him like ice.
She nods, maybe not trusting herself to speak, and he helps her to her feet before scooping her up into his arms so they can head toward the plane, ignoring the strain on his healingshoulder. Each step feels impossibly heavy through deep snow, but he clings to the fragile warmth of her body as if it’s the only thing driving him forward.
He’s going to get so fucking high soon in an effort to drown out the grief, he thinks, helping her into the small seat, fidgeting with the belt buckle. Then she pushes through the pain and captures his lips in a metallic kiss, cupping his face and whispering three perfect words against his mouth where their breath mingles.
“I love you.”
Her expression cracks and creases, and he says it back before she’s barely finished, sealing his own declaration with another kiss that’s over far too soon to be a suitable memory to last a lifetime. His chest is tight, lungs burning with the effort of holding in every emotion he can produce until she’s gone.
“I’ll find you,” he says. “You better stay alive so I can.”
And then Wyatt is shoving him away from the door, going on about the snow and how they won’t be able to leave if they wait. The love of his life is on the other side of the window, pressing her fingers to the glass as the engine rumbles. For the first time since this disaster began, Theo doesn’t feel the cold. His fingers don’t go numb. His breath doesn’t crystallize. He is only aware of the sight of her getting smaller and smaller, approaching the end of the runway, his vision blurring with tears, and his legs like jelly, threatening to buckle. The fear of losing her tangles with the reality of watching her hurt and helpless, burning through him and triggering a memory of the last time he watched someone he loved leave without him.
His brother left him stranded in the wilderness to chase their father’s approval, and Theo still remembers the breeze from the helicopter as it flew over the riverbank. How close it was and how fast it disappeared until he was completely and utterly alonewith nothing but his own thoughts to haunt him when the sun went down and the animals began to chatter.
