Page 24

What mattered the most right now, though, was the hot water.

I turned on the shower, stepping away from the spray as it came out ice-cold, and stripped while I waited for it to heat up.

I realised that I forgot my clothes back in the guest room, but I didn’t think much of it.

Rhodes wouldn’t be up, and Mikey would be waiting downstairs, so there would be no one to see me make the quick journey from the bathroom to the bedroom.

I showered quickly, only waiting for the water to heat up enough that I would freeze to death under the stream.

I didn’t wash my hair, instead throwing it into a bun on the top of my head to keep it dry and out of the way as I quickly rinsed the sleep from my body, and I was out in five minutes.

The bathroom hadn’t even had the chance to fog up.

Once I was back inside the bedroom I had temporarily claimed as my own, I threw on the first clothes I picked out, which just happened to be jeans and a tank top, kept my hair up in its messy bun, slipped my feet into my sneakers, and headed across the hall.

I knocked lightly, afraid to wake him if he was sleeping, but wanting to give him the option to send me away if he wasn’t.

When there was no answer, I gently pushed open the door and peered inside.

The curtains were closed, dimming the brightness of the light that was trying so hard to illuminate the space.

It was a typical boy’s room, with a navy blue comforter, a TV atop a chest of drawers, and a gaming system beneath it.

There was a small bookcase in the corner that held mostly trinkets, though there were a few well-worn books shelved for good measure.

Posters lined the walls of obscure bands I had never heard of, and a surfboard was propped up in the corner beside a snowboard.

Pictures lined the surfaces of a smiling couple that must have been Rhodes’ parents, and I could see the love they held for one another.

He may have suffered from cancer his whole life, but Rhodes was lucky. He’d grown up with a family that had loved him, had cared for him to the best of their ability, and provided him with a good life in spite of the hardships they faced.

And yet, despite the evidence of a life well-lived, it was empty.

The lump beneath the covers was unmoving, lifeless, and I hurried over to press my fingers against his neck, only removing them with a sigh of relief when I felt the faint pulse beneath my fingertips.

He was just sleeping, but I was preparing myself for coming in one of these days to find him gone.

He moaned in his sleep, his voice croaky and weak. A full glass of water sat beside the bed, a plate of largely untouched food beside that. He had taken a few bites of the simple buttered toast that Davey had taken up for him before he left, but most of it went uneaten.

I was concerned about his lack of appetite, not to mention how much trouble he was having swallowing.

I feared one of these days I would walk in to find him choking on his tongue or something, but that wasn’t all that I feared.

His seizures were becoming more frequent and took more out of him each time.

Lately, they had been mostly absent seizures compared to full-on fits, but I wasn’t ignorant enough to believe that was a good thing.

His body was giving out on him, and quickly.

He didn’t even have enough energy to spare on his symptoms anymore.

Now, he mostly just slept. The rest of us did our best to help ease his last days with as much dignity as possible. Yesterday, he had wet the bed while Davey was visiting, and we worked together without a word to clean him up. I stripped and remade the bed while Davey helped him to the bath.

I’d cried myself to sleep that night, and if Mikey’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes the next morning were any indication, he had, too.

I checked him over one last time, looking for any signs that he needed assistance before I left him alone for a few minutes, and released a sigh of relief when I found nothing wrong. No bed wetting. No vomiting in his sleep. No messes to clean up. He was safe for now, so I let him be.

Mikey was right where he said he would be when I came down the stairs, waiting by the door as he held it open for me.

‘How is he?’ he asked.

‘As well as can be expected, I suppose,’ I answered sadly.

Mikey’s gaze drifted to the stairs, sadness permeating his aura. But then the door closed behind him, jolting him back to the present, and he shot me an apologetic look.

‘You ready?’

‘Yup,’ I answered, purposefully putting a little more brightness in my tone than necessary in an attempt to lighten the mood. He did enough of that for me lately, it was time I did the same for him. ‘Lead the way.’

I followed dutifully behind him as he led me into the trees, sticking close by as the shadows cut at my already frayed nerves.

I tried not to jump at every rustle of the leaves or snap of a twig, but I couldn’t help but scan the darkness for signs of red, glowing eyes.

I shouldn’t have come out here, not with how paranoid I had become, but I was trying my best to act normal.

I didn’t want my life to be ruled by fear.

I had overcome enough hardships and was currently going through the most hellish situation I could have never even fathomed.

I wasn’t about to let hallucinations of a childhood fear break me now.

I was stronger than that, goddamn it.

Mikey didn’t say anything about my jumpiness, but he did stick close to me.

So close, in fact, that we were practically fused together.

Our arms brushed with every movement, until eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his hand, tangling our fingers together.

He blushed again and still refused to comment, but when he squeezed my hand back and didn’t let go, I knew it helped him feel better, too.

‘It’s just over here…’ he said, picking his way carefully over a fallen tree trunk and guiding me over.

I noticed what the problem was as soon as we were close enough to see it.

He had strapped one of the devices to a tree, and something had nibbled through the rope so it dangled precariously above the ground.

Mikey removed a bungee cord from a pocket in his cargo shorts and quickly tied the little metal thing back in place.

He stuffed the broken rope in his other pocket as he stepped away to examine his handiwork, then checked the device for any damage.

The light at the top blinked whenever he moved closer, but he didn’t seem concerned, so I didn’t ask.

Any data it recorded was sent straight to his laptop, so he only needed to come out here for maintenance issues like this.

‘Okay,’ he said, then smacked his hands against his thighs. ‘That’s that problem solved.’

I watched him expectantly, curious where he would lead us next, but he merely stared back like a doe in headlights.

‘Oh… that was it?’ I asked, unsure why I was sad.

I wanted to get out of these woods, but I also enjoyed the work that Mikey did.

His career fascinated me, even if I was wary of the scarier aspects.

I was quickly coming to see that spirits and entities weren’t all that scary, but it was the stories behind their deaths, the prospect of being haunted, that truly sent the shivers of fear skittering down my spine.

It hit a little too close to home.

He shrugged, glancing away with a sheepish blush staining his cheeks yet again. ‘That’s it. Sorry it wasn’t more exciting.’

‘Oh, no,’ I rushed to object. ‘It’s not that. I just thought…’

‘If they’d captured anything worthwhile, I’d tell you. I just thought… maybe… You could use a walk.’

I tried to smile, but I was sure it came out more like a grimace. ‘A walk sounds good, but I think I’d prefer to get out of the woods…’

‘Oh, sure,’ he said, eagerly moving back the way we came. Unfortunately, he was a little too eager and didn’t see the root poking out from the ground. His toe got caught, sending him flying, and he landed face down in a nearby bush.

‘Ow…’ he said, and I rolled my lips into my mouth in an attempt to stave off the laugh that threatened to burst out of me.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked when I was certain my voice wouldn’t give away my amusement. He was easily embarrassed, and I didn’t want to send him running because he thought I was making fun of him.

‘Just a bruised ego, I think,’ he said, dusting himself off and avoiding my eyes. If his complexion got any redder, I was concerned he’d pass out from too much blood rushing to his head.

He didn’t look at me for the rest of the walk back. He didn’t let me get close enough to hold his hand again. He waved a half-hearted goodbye when we got back to the house, then we went our separate ways.

I didn’t want to look too closely at why I felt like I was losing him, and why that sent a lightning bolt of panic through my veins.