Page 78 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

***

I loved my wife. I really, truly did (although I would never admit it with witnesses present). But sometimes…

“Bluurgh!”

We were tracking through the green hell that was the Caribbean jungle on the island we were stuck on. Both of us were sweating buckets and running out of water fast. If we didn’t find something to drink soon, we would die. And in this dire time, what did my darling wife choose to do?

“Bluuurgh!”

Yes, that. You guessed correctly. Congratulations.

“Bleeargh!”

Did I also mention it was still before dawn and she was having morning sickness?

“Urgh! Bluurgh!”

“You know,” I informed the hunched figure of my wife as I stepped up to her from behind, “right now is not the best time to be regurgitating fluids.”

Lifting her head, she glared back at me over her shoulder. Her glare would probably have been a little more impressive if she hadn’t been pale as a sheet and swaying ever so slightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Next time I have to vomit from morning sickness, I’ll swallow it right back down again!”

“Adequate.”

“You—” She did not get the chance to tell me what she thought of my stellar social skills. Which was fortunate for me, but less so for her, because, well…

“Bleeeargh!”

…the reason she was interrupted was less than pleasant.

“Come here.”

Reaching out, I slid my arm around her from behind, carefully holding her in place while, with the other hand, I tugged her hair out of her face.

Silently, I held her until her stomach stopped rebelling.

When the attack of morning sickness finally ceased, I pulled her back against my chest, holding her close.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.” She melted into my embrace.

“Adequate. Then we can proceed.” Reaching behind me into my makeshift bag, I, in my infinite generosity, offered her a semi-fresh slice of crab meat. “Breakfast?”

“Bleeeargh!”

Apparently, my infinite generosity was not appreciated.

It took an irksome amount of time for her stomach to settle down for a second time. When it finally did, she looked exhausted and drained. Not just metaphorically, but physically. Drained of water.

I hesitated. We should be rationing, but…

Lillian swayed. Her skin was dry, even in this jungle. Her lips looked chapped. It wasn’t the first time I had seen the signs of dehydration. Deep inside, I felt the desire to curse rise up, but suppressed it. Useless waste of time!

And speaking of waste…

Once again, I hesitated. Then I reached out and grabbed one of the remaining coconuts that were our only source of water. I would not require anything to drink anyway. After all, did I not still have plenty of liquid assets?

“Here.”

She looked up and, once she saw what I was offering to her, greedily snatched it out of my hand. Only by the time she had already downed two coconuts did she seem to realise something. Abruptly, she looked up at me, her hands tightening around the coconut.

“B-but that’s your ration, too!”

“I am aware.”

The punch to my shoulder was unexpected, but it really should not have been.

Why did I think again that being chivalrous to my obstinate little feminist ifrit of a wife was a good idea?

I was not a betting man (obviously) but if I were, I would put good money on her thinking something along the lines of “chauvinist pig” at this very moment.

“You can’t just do stuff like that! We two are equals! We should get exactly the same, no more, no less!”

She obviously had problems with her maths.

“Not two.” Shaking my head, I, with gentleness usually reserved for priceless treasures, placed one hand on her stomach. “Three.”

I could see the struggle on her face, the tug of war between the independent feminist on the one hand, and the mother-to-be on the other. In the end, she did not agree with my words. But she did not hand back the coconut either.

“Come.” I gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

That was the body part you were supposed to squeeze to show encouragement, right?

It had been so long since I had last done such a superfluous thing.

At least I was fairly certain it was not the posterior, although that definitely would also have taken her mind off things. “We have to move.”

“All right.” She gave a curt nod—then abruptly raised a finger, nearly stabbing it into my nose. “Next time, we both drink, understood?”

I didn’t even bother to dignify that with a reply. My wife, my son… Did she truly expect me to watch them die of thirst? They were mine , and I would never allow anything to be taken from me that was mine, in any sense of the word.

We set off without much further ado. I took point and, as the sun rose above the treetops, led us through the jungle and up the sloping terrain. I hadn’t walked for long, however, when footsteps neared from behind and I heard my wife’s familiar voice:

“Say…where are we going, exactly? It’s not as if we have a map of this place. How do we know we’re not just going in circles?”

“Simple.” I pointed ahead, up the incline, indicating the obvious.

She blinked, staring into the trees. “What…?”

Or not so obvious, apparently.

It took a long moment for the penny to finally drop. “We’re heading uphill! Why?”

“Two reasons.” I raised a finger. “First, water runs down from uphill, and the tops of hills encompass far smaller areas than the valleys around them. So if we go up a mountain, we will have more chances of encountering running water, within a much smaller search area.” Another finger joined the first. “Second, even if we do not find water, if we find a high enough mountain, we might be able to survey the surroundings and discover a water source that way.”

She thought it over for a moment and finally seemed to agree. Though she didn’t seem pleased by the prospect of finding water soon for some reason?

“So…we have to walk uphill all day?”

Ah. For that reason.

“No.”

Her face lit up.

“We can take a five-minute break at noon.”

Strangely, she didn’t seem very pleased by the news.

***

“Pant…pant …are we…there yet?”

“No.”

You know, on second thought…

“ Pant…pant… are…close?”

“No.”

…it might not have been the smartest idea to drag a pregnant Lillian Ambrose up a mountain through a steaming jungle. But did I really have any other choice? We needed water, and we needed it fast.

“How much… huff, huff …farther?”

Which didn’t make this any less vexing.

“Unknown. I can’t see far enough ahead to make a judgement.”

And that was a problem. After a long march, half of the coconuts had already been emptied and discarded.

Fortunately, that meant my burden had already been significantly reduced.

Unfortunately, it also meant that if we didn’t encounter a water source soon, we would be in quite the dilemma. We had to move faster!

“Come on!” I called over my shoulder. “What are you dawdling for, Mrs Ambrose?”

“Unlike you, Dicky Darling… huff, puff …my weight doesn’t decrease with every step I take!”

“Irrelevant. I’m sure we will find water soon enough.”

“Y-you are, are you? Pant, pant …that’s so reassuring!”

Five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later…

“ When did you say we’ll find water again, Mr Ambrose?”

“Soon, Mrs Ambrose. Very soon.”

Another ten minutes and fifty-five seconds later…

“So, how many more days till we reach the top of this mountain? One? Two?”

I chose not to answer.

“Mr Ambrose? It’s…it’s not going to be more than three, is it?”

Once again, I chose not to answer. Silence was such a useful thing, sometimes. Especially if you did not have a better alternative.

“People die after three days without water!”

And suddenly, silence didn’t seem like such a wonderful thing anymore. At least not the eternal kind.

My hands clenched hard enough to dent steel.

“I know, Mrs Ambrose. I know.”

Without another word, we continued on our way. One hour passed. Whenever I glanced back to check on my wife, she seemed to move slower, to stumble more often. Then, when once again I looked back, I saw her place a hand on her bulging belly in a move I was certain I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Don’t worry, little fellow,” she whispered in a voice that was probably supposed to be too low for me to hear. It was only moments away from cracking. “We’ll find water soon, I’m sure.”

Things could not go on like this.

And yet, they did. We walked uphill all day and didn’t find a single drop of water. Then another day passed. And another…possibly? As much as I despised the fact, my head was starting to feel dizzy and I was beginning to lose track of time. And I wasn’t the worst case.

“Mrs Ambrose?”

She blinked up at me owlishly, as if only just now reminded that I existed. Then her eyes drifted to my left, as if seeing another person there.

“Mrs Ambrose?”

In answer, her legs gave way.

Son of a…!

“Mrs Ambrose!”

In a blink, I was beside her, catching her in my arms and—

“Ng! How are you this heavy?!”

“W…what?” she mumbled.

Thinking about what I had said just now, I was suddenly very glad she was not entirely conscious.

Still, this state of affairs could not continue. I had to get her to talk to me! To keep her awake!

“Mrs Ambrose? Mrs Ambrose, Answer me!”

No answer. Why did I ever think that silence was a good thing? Inwardly, I cursed my foolish past self.

“Lillian! Lillian, are you…?”

“It’s…it’s nothing,” she murmured, grabbing a nearby tree to try and pull herself upright. “I’m all right. We can go on.”

At which point she swayed like a reed in the wind, nearly toppling over again. My eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Yes, and my name is Kickhard Slamnose!”

“It is?” she blinked up at me. “I’ll ’ave to remember that.”

Now her speech was slurred. This was getting worse and worse.

“This is not the time for levity, Mrs Ambrose.”

“You’re right.” Once again, her hand came to rest on my belly.

I nearly missed how it trembled ever so slightly.

“It really isn’t. It’s time to move.” She pushed her way out of my arms—or rather, she tried to, and I let her go.

I knew my wife. If I let her go, she might fall and hurt herself.

But if I tried to restrain her, she would definitely hurt herself.

Still, I made sure to remain close behind her.

“We have…to go on. We have…to…”

And well I did. When she stumbled and fell, I was right there to catch her. She tried to move forward again and once more nearly fell, only barely managing to steady herself by grabbing onto a tree.

Enough.

“Stop!”

“I…can’t stop. Water, I—”

“That is what I’m talking about, Mrs Ambrose! Stop! I…I…” My eyes flicked from left to right, finally landing on a small reddish-green fruit hanging from a bush not far away. One that I had never seen before and did not know the name of. Taking a deep breath, I came to a decision. “I found water!”

“What?” She whirled around, gaze scouring the surroundings. Her eyes were frantic and slightly glassy. It seemed as if she weren’t quite here anymore, and she would keel over any moment. “Where? Where is it?”

All right, that’s it!

There was no time to waste. The moment to act had come.

“Th-there’s no water here!” Her voice was so hoarse. So weak. So different from the way she normally spoke. “What are you going on about?”

“Water?” I shook my head. “Not as such. But there is this!”

I held out the fruit in my hand. Then, before she could open her mouth to ask what I was doing with a fruit, I squeezed—and, out of the fruit, juice began to drip.

I saw her throat move as she swallowed.

“But…but we might poison ourselves! How are we supposed to know if it’s edible?”

“ I know.” Giving her a look filled with confidence I did not feel, I picked another fruit. “I’ve seen this fruit before on my travels! I’m certain it’s edible!”

Or at least I will be after a bite.

“R-really?” Breath speeding up, she stumbled forward.

I love you , I thought the silent words I couldn’t speak out loud. For you, I’d risk anything and everything.

Strange how, sometimes, you did not need a cost-benefit analysis to know something would be worth it.

“Really?” She took another tremulous step towards me. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

Since my very first business negotiation, I had known that lying was a useful skill. Lying to my wife, though…it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Well, no matter. It was going to be washed away soon enough, one way or another.

“I’ll prove it to you,” I told her, ignoring the pounding of my heart and lifting the fruit to my mouth. For just a second, I hesitated—then my gaze met the vacant, tired, yet oh-so-hopeful eyes of my wife. Lillian, who was slowly but surely dying of thirst.

If this doesn’t work, remember me. Remember me, and above all, survive.

I bit down.

“H-How is it?”

“Hmm…” I chewed, cocking my head. “Quite adequate. Quite adequate indeed.”

“Great!” She rushed forward and was about to snatch a fruit for herself when my hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her dead.

As for why?

The burning feeling that had suddenly appeared in my throat seemed like a rather good reason.

“Don’t!”

She froze.

“Why not?”

“Well, because…” I let my voice trail off. Instead of speaking, I concentrated on chewing. There was still a chance this thing was edible. Just because the burning in my throat was getting worse and worse was no reason to…

I stumbled.

Son of a tax-collector!

“Mr Ambrose?”

I didn’t answer. I continued to chew and swallow. This had to work! It had to! It had—

I stumbled again. My head was starting to feel dizzy.

“Mr Ambrose! Why won’t you let me eat one?”

I did not answer.

“Mr Ambrose? Give that fruit to me, now !”

Again, I did not answer. Mostly because my tongue felt far too numb to move. Still, I tightened my hand around her wrist. She was not going to touch those fruits.

“Mr Ambrose? Mr Ambrose!”

Something blurry appeared in front of me. A monkey’s butt? No…no, that was my wife’s face.

I don’t think I’m thinking quite clearly anymore.

That was my last thought before the world began to tilt.

“Hey!”

Oh, no. That hadn’t been the world. That had been me.

Thud!

And that…too? The pain was distant. Muted.

“You son of a…!”

On the other hand, her shout in my ear was not.

“You…you…you said you knew it was edible!”

Blinking through the accursed mist that descended over my vision, I met her warm, chocolate brown eyes, wide with panic, and for once, could not bring myself to glare at her.

With effort, I parted my numb lips. “I…lied.”

Remember me. Survive.

Then—darkness.