King of the Woods, or Trivial Pursuit

Part 11 - Paint

Someone placed a mask over Ray's mouth and sealed it tight. Air — no, pure oxygen —filled his lungs. Ray clutched at the mask with every intention of finishing the whole tank, but someone pressed him down and pulled it away. His ears rang and bright light overwhelmed his vision. He could not tell whether he was in an ambulance or a hospital bed.

"Byron?" Ray said. He was wrong in all respects: Dread Girl embraced him, and they were still next to the Field Unit's parking lot. Saliva flecked her lips. Ray wiped wetness from his own.

"You breathed for me?" Ray said.

"You kiss better when you're awake," Dread Girl said. She looked tired and a little dehydrated. "Do I want to know who Byron is?"

"He's just a friend!" Ray said.

"Don't pass out again," she said. "I'm teasing."

Ray tried to stand, but could not. He looked at the Field Unit. The foul nimbus surrounding it had vanished. It felt no more real than his vision of the cold, black sea.

"You saved my life," Ray said.

"I almost killed you," she said. She wore the same expression as when Ray had told her of the deer, but she did not try to hide it this time. 

"It's my fault," Ray said. "That thing you did, the guided meditation or whatever, totally worked. I have never felt so alive! But we hiked all afternoon in the sun, and I didn't eat or drink anything afterwards. My electrolytes are probably screwed up. You couldn't have known that."

"I should have asked," she said.

"You asked to show me something and I said yes," Ray said. He wobbled halfway to his feet, then sat back down. "I can handle a little yoga, okay?"

"You are too kind," Dread Girl said. "Or too proud."

"I can be both," Ray said, giving her a wan smile.

"I wanted too badly for you to see what I see," she said. "I was selfish."

"Quit saying that you're selfish," Ray said. "What did you want me to see?"

"The cancer," she said, frowning. "The flame. I don't know if you have a word for it."

"Hold up," Ray said. "English isn't your first language?"

"That's right," she said.

"Whoa," Ray said. "That explains a lot, actually. Don't get me wrong, your English sounds perfect. But I don't always get what you're saying."

"It's the same for me," she said.

"Fair point," Ray said. He pulled out his phone. "Why don't you try your first language? I'll see if I can translate it."

"That won't help," she said.

"How do you know if you won't try?" Ray said.

She closed her eyes. The wind picked up for a moment, and Ray smelled Dread Girl's perfume — white fringetree and honeysuckle, even if she insisted that it was just honeysuckle — then a second smell, like someone cooking ammonia-tainted meat over old tires. It was faint and distant, but he coughed nonetheless. A look of concern crossed Dread Girl's face, and the second smell vanished.

"Fine," Ray said. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He put away his phone.

The wind carried a third fragrance. It was botanical, like the first, but Ray couldn't place it. It made him feel anxious. Frustrated. The wind died back down.

"I'm sorry," Ray said. "That was rude. I just really wish I could understand you better"

Another breeze blew by. This time, the scent of Dread Girl's perfume overwhelmed Ray. He shivered, although the breeze felt warm, shifted in his seat, and crossed one leg over the other.