Kyle goes to Viktor’s side. Viktor’s slumped over, head in his hands, mumbling to himself. Kyle helps me stand him up and put him around my shoulders. We grunt with the effort.
“Thanks,” I tell Kyle. He leaves the cabin without saying anything else. “Come on, buddy, we’re going back to your room.”
Zebulund’s mostly hidden in the shadows. It’s unnerving because I can’t tell where he’s focused. Thick swirls of smoke disfigure him and I’m so tired I can hardly keep the two of us upright.
“You need any help cleaning up?” I offer, despite my fatigue.
“You’ve got your hands full.” A large stream of smoke appears in the light as I hear a loud exhale. “He’s right across the main hall.”
He walks into the large bedroom. The door shuts. Maggie’s still on the floor.
“You okay?” I mouth.
She nods once, despite all the evidence to the contrary. I half bend down to lend her a hand. She’s still Under but her coloring is bad. With an arm around her waist, I pray we don’t run into anybody on the short walk to our rooms. How will I get them both out of here without looking insane?
“You’ll be in bed soon,” I say, ambiguous enough that I could mean it for Viktor too.
Her head rests on my shoulder.
Thank God, I spend hours at the gym each day, because getting these two mostly dead weights twenty yards is a struggle.
“This you, buddy?” I ask Viktor.
He stumbles forward to squint at the door number. “Thinkso,” he slurs.
He fumbles with his wallet, half leaning against the doorframe. I take the opportunity to shift Maggie in my arms and stretch my neck muscles. Her face is pale, and I’m shaking from exertion and worry for her. I don’t even care about her nudity anymore. The fact that she looks like she’s about to slip into a coma drives it from my mind.
How has she held it together this long? Her long neck is exposed as her head lolls back, and the fuzziness at her edges starts to come into focus.
“No, no, no.” I shake her a little. She goes back Under with a dry and painful sounding swallow.
Meanwhile, Viktor thinks I’m talking to him and says, “Oh. Wrong card.” He was attempting to open the door with a credit card.
“Not a hotel, my man, you have a regular key.”
“Oh yeah.” His head rests on the door as he searches his pockets.
I sweat bullets trying to make sure he doesn’t tip over, all the while I have to gently shake Maggie every few seconds to keep her from becoming visible. Thank God, the halls are all but empty this early in the morning.
“Got it.” The door swings open with a slam. He falls face first onto the carpet. “I’m okay.”
He gives a thumbs-up from his prone position on the floor. I look to the heavens for strength and guide Maggie in before closing the door. I take a deep steadying breath.
“Almost there, buddy. Few more steps.”
The muscles in my back scream in protest as I help him up.
“Young of good ones.”
“What?” I ask. He’s not making sense.
“You’re good. Too good. For us.”
“You’re good, too. Just faded.” I heave him onto his bed and yank off his sneakers.
He’s mumbling incoherently again as I go to get him a glass of water. By the time I come back from the bathroom he appears to be sleeping.
“There’s some water and aspirin here on the table, okay, buddy?” I explain.
