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There’s a duffle bag in the back of the cab, cash in bundles, account information for a bank in the Cayman Islands, and a passport in the name of Daniel Greene…
There was something cold on my face. Cold, soft, and wet. I tried opening my eyes, but it was so bright, and my eyes felt heavy. I could hear a voice, and I knew the voice to be Raine’s, but the words were incomprehensible. I was swallowed up by the darkness again.
Vodka burns down my throat. I’ve been here in this same place for what feels like days. Showgirls walk around in ridiculous outfits while businessmen chat up businesswomen and an Elvis impersonator leads happy couples to an alcove where they can be wed in a makeshift gazebo right next to the casino. I throw back another shot, lose a grand in another hand of blackjack, and start looking for someone to fuck…
…blood is everywhere – the bathroom floor, the shower, all over her hands and wrists…oh fuck, she nearly went down to the bone…
…an owl flies past me, soaring high above the beach. I walk down the sand as the sun begins to set. They’re holding her down there – down by the water. They’re touching her, and she’s screaming, and I’m watching the owl as it flies over the tidal pools…
Opening my eyes took way too much fucking energy. I closed them again, but I knew I didn’t want to go back to sleep either because every dream was worse than the last. I could hear a mumbled voice, which switched into actual words and eventually into someone telling me not to sleep anymore. Raine.
“Please, Bastian – please stay awake!”
I forced my eyes open again. The sun was too fucking bright, and it was making my head hurt. Why the fuck was I rocking back and forth? I realized Raine’s cold hands were on my shoulders, shaking me roughly. Why were her hands so cold?
“Bastian, I don’t know what to do.” Raine’s voice sounded so small and so far away. I tilted my head a little, trying to get a better look at her face, but everything was blurry. Even through my blurred vision, I could see her anxiety. Even without my vision, I could feel it in her. I didn’t want her to be upset about anything…I wanted to tell her it was all okay.
“Don’t…” I tried to make words, but they just didn’t want to come out. My throat was dry, and I coughed once. Raine’s hand was suddenly on the back of my neck, tilting my head up and pouring water into my mouth. I drank it greedily until she pulled back the container. I coughed again.
“Don’t be sad,” I finally got out.
“You’re so sick,” she said quietly. At first I tried to figure out if I had made some off-color joke, but I didn’t think I had. I narrowed my eyes, trying to understand. “Your leg was hurt – cut, I think. I stitched it up like I did your eye, but it’s really red and swollen, Bastian. I think it’s infected, but I don’t know what to do! You told me how dangerous…”
Her voice cracked, and I watched her hand move up to cover her mouth.
“Infected?” I heard myself mumble out loud as my brain tried to remember what the fuck that meant. I tried to raise my head, but it was so damn heavy. I was lying on my side, and I rolled onto my stomach with the intent of verifying her thoughts about my leg, but I couldn’t hold my head up enough to get a good look at it. My thigh fucking hurt, that was for sure. I felt Raine’s hands on my head again, and she raised me up so I could look down at the back of my leg. The skin around the slash was deep red – almost black – and oozing. Holy shit. “Yeah, that’s bad.”
“Please, Bastian…tell me what to do,” she begged. “I washed it off with the fresh water, and I’ve tried to keep it covered up some of the time, but then I thought maybe it would heal better if it was exposed to the air. You have a fever, and I can’t…I can’t…”
She took a deep, choking breath that ended up in a sob.
“I can’t remember if you’re supposed to feed a fever and starve a cold, or feed a cold and starve a fever!” she blurted out.
It fucking hurt, but I couldn’t help but laugh, which led to coughing, which really fucking hurt.
“It’s not funny!” Raine yelled at me.
“It’s okay, babe,” I said after she gave me some water to quiet the cough. My eyes went a little swimmy as she laid my head back on the palm leaves in the sand.
“What else can I do?” she said softly. “Please, Bastian…I have to do something.”
“Lobelia,” I mumbled and shook my head, trying to make myself focus. If I really did have a fever…well, that wasn’t a good thing. I remembered the little blue and yellow flowers from the jungle and figured they had to be better than nothing.
“What?”
“Need Lobelia,” I repeated. “And charcoal. Mix ‘em together with water and boil them over the fire.”
“Bastian, I don’t understand.”
“Fights infection,” I said, trying to be clearer. Some of what she was saying was starting to make sense – I remembered being cut. My leg was infected; I could feel the heat. If it was as bad as it felt, it could kill me. If it killed me, Raine wasn’t going to make it on her own. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to make her understand.
I reached out my hand and pulled back the palm frond on the ground until I could see the sand. I slowly drew the shape of a flower with two small, thin petals at the top and three larger petals at the bottom.
“Lobelia,” I said again. “Bright blue, yellow spots in the middle near the stamen. Big bulge under the flower, right before the stem. Long, skinny leaves, big stalks. They were everywhere back in the jungle – big bunches, you can find them.”
“What do I do with them?”
“Crush whole flowers in water with charcoal from the fire.” I had to stop and take a few breaths. I felt cool water over my forehead as Raine ran some wet cloth over my face. “Boil it if you can. Use a seashell if there’s one big enough. Just put it on top of the coals.”
