Page 39 of The Otherworld

So I wait. I slide a pillow under his head and lug his wet clothes into the kitchen, draping them over the backs of the chairs to dry. I throw more wood into the stove and put on some water to boil for tea—because there will be no going back to sleep tonight.

The rain and wind bellow outside the window, thunder rolling through the floor. Somehow, I have a sense this storm is far from over.

11

The Lightkeeper’s Daughter

ADAM

I wake up feeling like there’s a knife in my ribs.

I try to open my eyes—useless. My head pounds with a dull, unrelenting ache. I want to sleep for a lifetime. But now stabs of pain are awakening all over my body: my left ankle, my back, my arms, and my legs. Every part of me feels like it’s been crushed.

I drag myself from the comforting void of unconsciousness to find that I’m lying on the floor of a small living room, warm and lamp-lit. Wood paneling on the walls. A soft rug underneath me. My eyes fall shut again as I remember what happened before I collapsed.

A lighthouse. I found a lighthouse on this deserted island after days of searching for civilization. The storm was raging as I banged on the door. No one answered, so I found another door. Bang, bang, bang, my fists pounded against the slippery wood. That’s the last thing I remember.

The lightkeeper must’ve dragged me inside when I collapsed. God bless him. The warmth of the fire feels so good, it takes a moment for me to realize that my clothes are gone. I reach underneath the blankets with one hand and find myself butt-naked.

He must have stripped off my wet clothes. I’ve been shivering in them since the crash—the damp fabric started to feel like it was growing into my skin.

I take a deeper breath, and the knife stabs again—damn. My ribs. I touch the place where blood once seeped through my shirt and find a soft bandage wrapped around my middle, the cool sensation of ointment underneath.

That’s when I hear a noise in the next room. Dishes clinking. Water pouring.

Water.

I’ve been so thirsty for so long, the deprivation is impossible even to describe. I was unable to collect any decent rainwater in the forest, and now that powerful thirst reaches past my pain to force the word out of my mouth.

“Water.”

Even my voice is weak—the knife pushing up against my ribs, threatening me with another stab if I inhale too deeply.

I wait for the kitchen noises to fall silent, then I try again.

“Water.”

Footsteps vibrate through the floor as someone comes rushing into the living room.

It’s a girl, not the weather-worn man I was expecting. A beautiful girl with long, sandy-brown hair and a look of surprised joy on her face. She’s wearing a white nightgown, and she says my name like she’s known me forever.

“Adam! You’re awake!” She rushes over and kneels on the floor beside me. “How do you feel?” She smells like wildflowers, and her suntanned skin glows in the soft lamplight, messy hair crowning her angelic face.

I’ve forgotten her question.

“I need water,” I say, my voice a gravelly rasp.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” She jumps up and runs back to the kitchen.

Thump, thump, thump. Her footsteps vibrate through the floor under my head. I shut my eyes for a moment, and there she is again, gently lifting my head and bringing a ceramic mug to my lips. It’s the sweetest water I’ve ever tasted.

She watches me carefully, her sea-green eyes reflecting the firelight. I don’t know her—at least, I don’t remember her. So how does she know me?

“Is your father the lightkeeper?”

She nods, sitting back on her heels.

“I want to thank him… for helping me.”

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