6...

Neeman’s mouth elongated into a devilish grin, and his eyes darkened into a molten black mask, like the mirror that the guardian had worn out on the marsh.

“Very good,” it hissed, still in Neeman’s voice, and pushed her down until her back made contact with the stairs. She scrambled up them backward on her hands and feet, crab-like, not sure how far she would be able to climb this time, as the monster wearing Neeman’s face stalked her.

She almost cried out in relief when - a dozen steps later - a door burst open. She hurried to put it between herself and the monster before she was caught up in the memory.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

“The Fall”

A cough broke the still night air, jerking Pima awake. She’d fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the low kitchen table, legs bent under her at an awkward angle. She stumbled sleepily to her feet and hurried to the next room.

Her mother was lying amidst a heap of thrown off blankets. Her purple coverlet lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. She was sweating and mumbling in her sleep, caught in a fever dream.

Pima grabbed a blanket off the edge of the bed and threw it over her mother’s form before turning her attention to the leg poking out of the sheets.

The bottom half of her mother’s right leg was swollen and red. A square of linen - folded twice and stuffed with feverfew - was taped around the worst section. Pima would have to change it again tonight. She fought down the bile that rose in her throat as she pictured the skin underneath it.

Pima had found her two days ago lying crumpled on the ground at the edge of the treeline outside their house. She seemed unharmed except for the bright red wound on her leg. It didn’t look like an animal bite. Try as she might, Pima had not been able to get her to open her eyes.

Pima had found no fang marks, no stringers, no attached parasite. The redness had spread at a fast clip until it consumed her lower leg, and the wound itself - whatever it was - had swollen into an ugly pink, purple, and brown pitted mass.

The fever had set in late last night, and nothing Pima had tried had eased it.

Pima was ashamed at the way she’d screamed her head off when she found her mother, and, except for short trips to the latrine and the kitchen, she hadn’t left her side since Akish carried her to bed. Akish was gone to collect supplies from neighbors - she’d finally bent to his suggestion - and Pima shouldn’t have left her alone.

She reached for her mother’s hand now and laid her head down beside her pillow.

“Hey.”

Pima jerked upright and whirled toward the kitchen. Neeman stood in the doorway, a sack slung over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but his expression only sunk deeper into pity.

“He’s with me. He helped me carry the supplies.” Akish shouldered past Neeman, dropped two packs on the ground beside his sleeping pallet, and sat on the other side of the bed.

Pima bowed her head and asked in a gentler tone, “Did you find anything?”

“A few things. Can’t be sure when we don’t know what got her. I’ll try anything, though.” His tone was light, but he couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes. Pima didn’t doubt that his pain was an almost physical thing. He was much better at that sort of thing than she was. She had often wondered when she was younger if there was something wrong with her, the fact that she couldn’t connect with people that way that her brother did. But she didn’t have time to worry about such things now. A numbness like she’d never felt before had crept into her mind, and it left her feeling ambivalent to her surroundings.

Feeling the sudden urge to do something, anything, with her hands, she retrieved Akish’s heavy packs and retreated to the kitchen. Neeman followed her. He sat beside her, too close, but she didn’t protest.

They began to unpack the supplies that Akish had collected, which consisted of more food than medical supplies. She frowned.

Akish, no. Tell me you didn’t go begging for food.

They were fine. Still, she knew they couldn’t afford to refuse any charity.

Neeman kept looking over at her, and she watched him from the corner of her eye. He broke the silence with a cough. “I’m sorry.”

Pima nodded absentmindedly, grouping the supplies on the table before them.

“I wish there was something more I could do. If there’s anything…” He covered his hand with hers and gave it a light squeeze. She pulled away and stood.

“I’m sure your friends need you more. Aren’t you supposed to be leading a revolution or something?”

“Pima, please don’t be like that. I just want to help—-”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t trudge all the way out here to fill Akish’s mind with foolhardy plans and try to bend my ear to them again. In case you didn’t notice, this isn’t a good time for us to be entertaining visitors!”

“Hey!” Neeman shot to his feet, and Pima took a step back, standing in his shadow. Fear filled her eyes, but as soon as Pima stopped talking, he leaned down and somehow fit his 6’1” frame within her 5’3” frame.

“Your brother and I talked on the walk over, but I have no plans to talk business in a sick house. I wanted to make sure Akish got home okay, and see if there was anything else I could do, and...and to see how you were doing. He told me that you were the one who found her. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like...but I do know what it’s like to lose someone you love and feel like you’re the loneliest person in the world.”

Angry tears pricked Pima’s eyes - at the pity in his voice, the hopelessness, this situation. She had backed herself up against one wall. Neeman rocked back on his feet and said, a twinkle in his eyes, “If, however, you find yourself in need of a distraction, I do have some new points of argument I’ve been saving to share with you.”

Pima laughed, caught off guard by the change in topic, and shoved his shoulder. “Normally, I’d say bring it on. I’m not afraid of an argument.”

He smiled, pleased to have brought her back from the brink of tears, and caught her hand. Swiftly, before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her. Pima’s mind blanked, and she stood there, motionless for several heartbeats, before shoving him back.

“Get out!”

“But—-”

“You have more to say? I don’t care! It’s dark? I don’t care! I don’t care! Get out!”

Neeman scrambled backwards, grabbing his empty pack from the table and his coat from the hook by the door. He paused with one hand on the door.

“I’d try the pills in the white bottle. Avir’s family gave them to me. It’s pre-Tower. Apparently, it’s a very useful, very powerful anti-inflammatory.”

“Get out!”

“Neeman? Pima?” Akish had come to stand in the kitchen doorway. His expression was carefully guarded as he looked from one to the other.

Neeman raised his hand in farewell and slipped out the door. He caught it before it closed and stated, “I’ll be back to check on you.” Then he let the door slam shut and stalked off into the darkness.

——————————