18 DAYS

Chapter 15: The Rules.

DAY 11

On the evening of the eleventh day, Cato finally wakes up. Desorientated and groggy, it's clear that his fever is not going anywhere but up.

But this time,Clove is laying down next to him. So no panic, just the metallic cage of illness pressing on his temples menacing to crush his skull.

"Ouch."

Cato props himself up on his elbow, his body wanting nothing more than to just lie back down and disappear in the puddle of sweat sticking his clothes and his hair to his fever hot skin. He is so close to delirium, Cato feels like he'd take a dozen Tracker-jacker bites in exhange for this hell. His muscles weak to the point that his now brittle bones feel like popping out of their joint, making his powerlesness overwhelming.

"Hey. Marvel's dead. The little black girl too. Since the two canons fired at the same time I'm guessing they took each other out. They announced it a few hours after you passed out. But no one died today."

"Today?"

Through the fog, Cato manage to focus his eyes long enough on her to see a soft reassuring smile. He isn't sure if this is reality or simply a figment of his imagination. Nonetheless, it feels nice.

"Yes. You've slept more than 48hours, Cato. It's night now."

The boy from Two turns around to peer at the outside, but she's right it's pitch black. Becoming childish from his pain, Cato pouts. He was sick of the dark. If people were each born to live in different seasons, he had been made to live in the sunlight. For his skin to tan into hazel and his bright yellow hair to almost touch white. Feeling the weather heat up his soul from the outside in.

"Did you stay here this whole time?"

Clove shrugs, avoiding his glare. Instead, she grabs her bottle again and brings it to him. It's barely emptier than when Cato drank from it the day before. She obvioulsy hadn't drunk or eaten in days. Even through the mist he can see the dark bags under her eyes and how emanciated her cheeks are.

"Tilt up." She brings the bottle to his lips. That's when he realizes they are not dry, meaning all Clove'd been doing while he was slowly rotting away is make sure he was hydrated enough without caring for herself.

"No." He puts his hand on the bottle, and slam it to the floor. The water spills out everywhere.

"Cato ! What the fuck !" She lunges to get it back, but by the time she finds on the damp floor, it's completely empty. "We needed that!"

"No I needed that." He grabs her face and brings it to his. Her anger is fake, it's sadness that is drowing her expression. "You gotta stop. I know what we said last night, but this is bullshit. We can't continue this way."

Then Cato lift his pant leg. The swelling is so much worth than two days ago. The redness has climbed from his ankle to go all the way up to his knee. And the two holes left by the water snake are now discharging some type of greenish pus, filling the whole cave with a smell of putrifying skin.

Clove let's go a sob just as a shiver of fear is being born at the root of Cato's spine. It's bad. Really bad. For this first time in his life, his body is loosing the fight.

"It's not getting better."

With these words, Cato laboriously takes off his shirt and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his forehead with it. It had started to drip into his eyes, making it difficult to do what he had in mind. His pant leg still up on his thighn, he starts to make a tourniquet with the fabric. Just under his knee, right above where the infection ends. Tightening the made up bandage is so painful it almost takes him out. Fever radiating by every pore, the operation make him loose consciousness on and off. The will of his mind only thing keeping him alive long enough to finish.