Chapter Twenty-Four

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Eddie gasped in disbelief. No, it can't be. He jumped onto the riverbed and dug his hands into the soil. It was parched. It was as if not a droplet of liquid had permeated it in ages.

He shook his head. "Non, non, non..."

Jon and Stella leaped into the riverbed and reached him.

"Jon, you can detect bodies of water right?" he asked. "Search for it."

Jon waved an arm. He shook his head. "No water."

"No water? Not a drop?"

Jon shook his head.

"Not here or there or underground or in the air?"

Jon shook his head once more.

"Not even in the stalactites or the walls or anything?"

"There's no water here, Eddie. Unless you count our sweat."

"So there's absolutely no healing water?"

"No. There's no water here at all."

"That means there's no cure."

Jon bit his lip. "There's none."

Eddie's breathing grew shaky. His worst nightmare had come true. The image of his friend, now lover, shattering before him filled his headspace. Her saddened voice filled his ears, asking why he failed to save her. His body trembled from head to toe. Of all the vows to her that he would break, it had to be the most important one.

His head hung low. Teardrops built up in his eyes as he stared at the desiccated ground. He whimpered, "Michelle, Michelle, je suis désolé."

"Michelle?" Stella repeated. "Isn't that your friend—"

"Leave me alone."

Jon took a step closer. "Eddie—"

"Leave me alone."

Jon and Stella took a few steps back before they walked out of his field of vision. Eddie returned his glare to the dry earth beneath him. Michelle will die. Michelle will die. I have failed her. The thoughts echoed in his mind. How could he tell her? How could he tell anyone? The scene he feared flashed before him: their weeps interweaving as her glassy eyes gazed into his for the last time; his arms cradling her fragile body as cracks formed and spread through her; him picking up fragments of what was once his companion. All of that because he decided to give a "special" Valentine's Day gift. If he could turn back time, he would replace the ring with a rose or a box of chocolates.

A heavy sigh escaped him. Every single emotion, from regret and despair to anguish and outrage, threatened to burst free. His breath shuddered. His jaw clenched. His chest grew heavy. His hands curled into fists. He had been sangfroid and restrained all his life; for once he would love to unleash the tempest stirring inside him. The air around him heated as he struggled to contain himself. He could explode at any moment. He would explode. He wanted to.

The cure is not far.

"THERE IS NO CURE!" he vociferated, screaming towards the heavens. Tears flowed from his eyes. "Head to an underground river, they said! Its waters will heal anything, they said! Nobody has made it out alive, they said! I know why they all died! I know why! Its healing waters were a lie! THEY RISKED EVERYTHING TO FIND NOTHING! NOTHING!"

He screamed and shouted as he poured out his heart. Curses streamed from the mouth that had never sworn. The ground shook as his fists pounded it with all his might. His piercing cries resonated so strongly, they shook the stalactites that hung above his head. He almost feared for his lungs with all the bawling and gasping, but in the end, he did not care. He did not care. He was hopeless. Furious. Grief-stricken. Emotional. He let loose everything that he had buried beneath his skin. While his madness grilled the atmosphere, his sorrow drizzled and dampened the soil.

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