Page 62 of The Wicker King

CHLORPROMAZINE

He didn’t even see him. He felt him first. Felt the weight of his gaze on the back of his neck. August turned around and there he was—walking between two orderlies. Thinner and frailer than August had ever seen him. Cheekbones jutting out, white and wan. But his eyes. They burned.

He heard the orderlies crying out for security before his fingers even touched Jack’s hospital gown. “Jack. Jack!” He buried his face in Jack’s neck and clung to him, frantically trying to memorize the feel of him, the smell of him.

“My Champion.”

August sobbed.

“August, you have to let go. You have to do it on your own,” Jack murmured against the soft curve of August’s ear. August lurched backward from Jack instantly, like Jack was made of acid. The guards thundered down the hallway like a storm on the horizon.

“Are you okay?” August asked weakly. He still wanted to touch Jack so bad. He wanted Jack’s clawlike fingers back on the nape of his neck. He wanted it to hurt so he could still feel it later. He wanted it so bad he could hardly breathe. He reached out again.

The guards tackled him to the floor.

HALVED AND BOUND

“Did you like your gift?”

August scrunched up his nose. “What are you talking about?”

“Jack. In the hallway. I arranged to see him so he would be moved from his room when pills are dealt out, about the time when your name should have been called. The two of you should have crossed paths, if I planned it correctly? I apologize for any resulting punishment.”

“No … no … that was fine … You did that?”

“Yes,” the psychologist said calmly. “What did you feel when you saw him?”

August paused. Then, deciding she had more than earned his honesty, he answered. “Desperation, mostly. Panic. And beneath that, relief and worry.”

“What were you desperate for?” she asked, quickly jotting down his response.

August blushed. “A lot of things. I was desperate to be alone with him, so the orderlies and other patients would stop staring at us. Desperate for time to talk to him. I felt like I wanted to simultaneously … crawl inside his skin and pull him so close that we fused together.” He laughed with embarrassment. “It’s gross, I know.”

“It’s not gross,” she said kindly. “May I ask you something else?” He waited. “Had you ever felt like that before your stay here?”

“No … not like that. It was never like that.”

FEALTY

August had studied the verse Jack sent to him. He’d kept it well hidden, folded small. At first he’d wanted to carry it with him, like a talisman, but that seemed far too risky. So instead, he hid it in the gap between the molding and the wall.

11:23 2:45

It was a date and time. It was written so it couldn’t be deciphered at passing glance. The only thing that tipped him off was the 45. It could have been two different times, but that would be useless, so it had to be a date and a time. And there aren’t forty-five days in a month, so 2:45 had to be the time and 11:23 had to be the date.

That gave him hope. Jack was speaking in code. That took effort, so August knew Jack’s mind couldn’t have rotted completely away if he was still doing that.

Tonight was November 23, fifteen minutes from 2:45 a.m.

August got up from bed and pulled the string he’d used to rig the lock to his room, and the door unlocked with a soft click. He opened the door and stepped into the hall.

DORMOUSE

Jack cracked his door open a bit and gestured for August to come in. August glanced around. Then he walked quickly, slipping silently into Jack’s room. They both closed the door as slowly as possible, then leaned against it, staring at each other. Alone.

Jack’s eyes were very gray as he studied him, and August shrank beneath the other boy’s gaze. “You look tired,” Jack said.

“You look near dead,” August replied.