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He drank a little, then pushed it away. “I’m fine . . . don’t need it.”
I thought back on the past two days, racking my brain for a memory of him drinking anything. All I remembered for sure was when he took a sip to taste the water after the storm.
“What are you trying to prove?” I poured the last of the water into his mouth, making sure he swallowed before he closed his eyes again. I pushed away the empty barrel and reached for Graham’s hand, holding it without fear this time. Maybe because I didn’t expect him to remember. Or maybe because I thought it could be my last chance.
The sun set in a blaze of red sky, leaving us alone in the nothingness. I huddled by Graham in his cabin, hardly bothering to adjust the sails. I wasn’t sure I even knew where to go anymore.
He slept fitfully, squeezing my hand and muttering broken phrases. “Didn’t mean to . . . please forgive . . .”
“Just relax,” I said for what felt like the eightieth time.
“Bryn?”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. Don’t talk.”
His voice was dry and raspy. “Thanks . . . for coming to see me.”
I let go of his hand and pulled my legs to my chest.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
I buried my head in my knees, trying to block out his deliriousness in case it was contagious. I couldn’t afford to start telling secrets. I’d much prefer to die with them unsaid.
But his slurred voice broke through anyway. “I only kept going to the library . . . to see you.”
“Stop talking. Save your energy.”
“I hadn’t felt happy in so long,” he whispered, “not since . . .”
I covered my ears and climbed out of the cabin. I couldn’t hear it. Not if it was real. Not if it wasn’t. I walked across the deck to the bow. Only a sliver of red remained on the horizon, hanging on stubbornly. The rest of the sky was alive with the deepest shade of blue.
I watched the water pass by, finding comfort in the constant flow. The world didn’t care what happened to us. It would go on turning without a hitch. It was the people who would suffer when we didn’t make it to Tramore in time.
And my father. He wouldn’t be able to stay out of the battle. He’d fight for his family until his dying breath.
I looked back at Graham. I itched to go back, to stay with him, to keep him from being alone ever again. It hadn’t crossed my mind that he’d save the drinking water for me. I realized, with shame, that I wouldn’t have thought to do it for him. My selfishness won out, like it always had.
I’d die selfish.
And Graham would die because of my lies.
Just before the sky darkened from blue to black, my ears picked up a change. A tiny shift in the same old sound of water lapping against the boat.
Waves breaking on land.
I rushed to the tiller, directing us toward the sound. But as we got closer, my heart sank. It was only a rocky mound, nothing but a few boulders.
But it triggered a memory.
My father’s maps. I’d studied his journal for so long. I knew of a place like this off the southern tip of Gellor. I rotated the tiller the other way, steering us toward the north. It was just a matter of making it there before . . . I shook my head to avoid the thought.
“Graham!” I hopped back to the cabin and leaned through the doorway. “You’ll be okay. Just hang on.”
He didn’t move. The only sign of life besides his raspy breathing was a furrow between his brows.
* * *
I keptthe boat on course to the north, but the weak breeze barely lifted the sails. My strength had become as dim as the night.
