Page 10 of Corrupted Torment

“Why?” I turn back to him now, fully dressed in black sweats and a tee, sporting a pair of fluffy socks. It appears Huck doesn’t own any shoes. In the time I’d turned around, Huck had taken the time to clothe himself too. Fluffy socks and all.

“It’s a death sentence,” he says, looking at me gravely, any sense of the joking and laughter gone. I swallow and nod.

“Come on, I'll make us something to eat. Soup okay? And here, have a drink,” Huck continues as he passes me the canteen and gets to work, emptying the tins out into the saucepan without waiting for my response.

Time passes quickly, with overall lighter conversation, jokes and smiles from him. Questions and maddening anxiousness from me. Throughout the evening, our talking comes to sudden stops as another coughing fit starts up for Huck, who immediately blames the smoke. Eventually, he concedes, confirming the suspicion I have that something is wrong.

“Shit, this jab is going to be bad. It might be a virus or something. I’m exhausted all of a sudden,” Huck yawns out, his body violently shivering, his arms raising in goosebumps, his forehead shiny with sweat. “It’s so cold,” he says, teeth chattering.

Quickly, I scout the boxes in the cave, finding a blanket, sleeping bag, and pillow.

“Is this something they normally give out? Will you be okay? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I can’t have been given the same thing, so maybe I can watch over you?” My words are a jumbled mess as I set up the sleeping bag and pillow as close to the fire as safely as possible. He settles inside and I drape the blanket over the top of him for extra warmth, my eyes searching, wondering if there’s anything else I can do for him.

“I’ve had it before, so it shouldn’t be so bad this time, antibodies or whatever. Maybe your jab was a dud. It happens sometimes. You’ll get used to it. I just need to rest. I’d really love it if you played nurse maid though,” his teasing voice makes my heart lighter.

I rest my hand on his clammy forehead. His head is scalding hot, and I bite my lip to evade the worry. It doesn’t work, but I vow nothing will happen to the boy who has saved me.

“Sweet dreams. I’ll look after you,” I breathe out. He gives me a sleepy smile in thanks and his eyes drift shut.

In the glowing firelight, I watch the steady rise and fall of Huck's chest as he sleeps. For the first time since I came to this place, I experience something akin to safety. This boy has protected me from a nightmare I never could’ve ever imagined before; now it is my time to look after him. He said the injection was normal here, something I’d become used to. I’m not so sure about that.

Pulling my sleeping bag right next to Huck was purely a decision made to keep tabs on him throughout the night. Resting my head on his chest so I can listen to the steady thump of his heart, however, was something I couldn’t explain even to myself. One thing I knew for certain was that things were never going to be the same again.

CHAPTER4

HUCK

Age Fifteen

My skin burns.

I feel the volcanic heat from within. It has me wanting to claw at my scorching skin, to shed off a layer to cool down my insides. I know logically it’s just a virus, a symptom of whatever torrid poison the hunters of the night have given me, but I’m so fucking hot. I may as well be in the fires of hell themselves.

I try to raise my hands, to scratch at my neck, but find my arms pinned down at my side. Groaning, I squint my eyes open, I hadn’t even realised they were still shut. The campfire is too bright in my dark cave; the light hurting my sensitive eyes as it flickers across the walls. I wonder how long I have slept.

“Huck, are you okay?” The voice pulls me from my musings. A delicate hand touches my blanket-covered chest and I frown. I never use these blankets. Looking up, I find the worried freckled face of a young boy. I watch wearily as he pulls at the blankets, trying to pull them higher over my sweat-covered shoulders.

I choose not to answer. Instead, I follow his movements as he potters around the cave, going through my boxes of supplies and gathering what I think might be dinner. Enough for the two of us. My water canteen in hand, he walks back over to me, offering it out to me as if it were his to give. Is the water inside even boiled? I doubt a child could possibly know to do that.

“Do you need anything?” he asks me as I stare at him, his pure green eyes staring right back.

“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper. I don’t really know if I’m speaking the question to myself or to him. Either way, the words are probably harsher than they need to be. I’m confused and I don’t like that someone has encroached on my space without permission, but as I take in the boy’s hurt face, a flicker of guilt fills me.

He’s just a kid.

It’s been a long time since I felt like I could be just a kid. Even before this place, my mum and dad didn’t have much time for me anymore. Not after my big brother died. It was like, after he passed on, the world stopped existing. Left to my own devices, I had to look after myself from a young age.

“I’m Dario. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bother. I’ll go,” he croaks before he flees. Running into the pitch-black tunnel leading to freedom. My heart sinks, instant remorse at letting this boy go out to the wilderness on his own. I can’t let him get hurt.

“No, kid, wait!” My words are wasted, his echoing footfalls dimming as he gets further away. I strain against the blankets but find I’m too weak to move. My canteen sits tauntingly close by, and I’m desperate for just a drop, the heat of my body having parched my throat.

I battle and wriggle, trying to release just one arm from my blanketed cocoon. The struggle heats my body further, exhausting my already tired limbs. I still, closing my weary eyes for just a moment. I just need to let myself rest enough to gain the energy to escape this heated death trap.

Footsteps close by startle me and I curse, realising I must have dozed off, but that doesn’t matter. The kid, Dario, must have returned, and I’d rather be awake to greet him. I’m groggy, and know I couldn’t have been asleep for long, but I want to make sure the first thing I say to him is genuine.

“Shit, kid, I’m glad you’re back. I’m so—” my words are cut off.

“It’s just me,” a familiar voice calls. Peter steps into the light, his flop of blonde hair hangs over his eyes like usual. He smiles as he walks over to me. “The kid said you might need some water before he ran off. Said it had been a little while, and he was worried. Seemed like a good guy. Shame you scared him off. He was doing a good job looking after you.”

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