DUSKLIGHT ODYSSEY

Chapter 12

Ion's arms gradually went limp as Naim held him close. Hearing the soft sounds of sleep escaping from his lips, she gently laid him back onto the pew. Naim was transfixed as she watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically for a time. He looks so peaceful.

Naim still felt the warmth of their embrace lingering in her chest, a certain comforting heat that she had never felt before—a swirling sort of sensation that rose from her heart to her head—a feeling that was not altogether unpleasant, but strange all the same.

"Bad feelings are like poison. The longer you keep them in, the sicker they'll make you." Her grandfather's words echoed through her mind. She was glad she had convinced Ion to let out some of his. There was power in a listening ear, and hardly anything matched the potency of a hug. Even times of tears can turn to a fond memory, depending on who's beside you. Naim remembered the sweet lullabies her mother would sing to her when she was sad, and the sturdy strength and security she felt in her grandfather's arms. She smiled.

Vio beside her, Naim went to take him in her arms before she quickly jerked away. It burned. Vio was hot, overheating, more than ever before. She attempted to touch him again, but flinched in pain.

I need to cool him down! she thought. To carry him as hot as he was would surely scar her. What would happen if he stayed this hot for too long? Would he die? Naim recoiled at the thought.

Ion's pack was on the ground. Naim dropped to her knees and rummaged through it. Where is the waterskin? She was surprised at the amount of junk she had to sift through to find it—a hundred pieces of scrap and useless effects, the purpose for which she couldn't fathom, except perhaps some misplaced sense of sentimentality—but finally she took hold of the flask. She pulled it from the pack and shook it—it was light, and the sound of sloshing water was faint. She groaned in frustration, but caught herself midway through. I can't wake Ion! He needs to rest!

The water in that skin was their life blood, and was in constant need of renewal. To waste what was left would likely mean death—but would it be a waste? It's not enough, anyway. She needed far more to cool him down.

Off to the side of the apse in the church wherein they lodged, there was a tightly shut door of dark wood that led to the sacristy. Naim eyed the door. Perhaps in there, she supposed, there might be something that could help. She was hesitant to leave Vio behind, but she had no choice.

Naim rose and crossed the room toward the door. The knob turned. It opened with a toe-curling squeal. It was dark inside. Far too dark. Time was short, she needed to see. I need Ion's lighter, she thought. She ran back beside where he was lying and gently lifted the lighter from his pocket.

Click... Click... Click...

Come on!

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

It wasn't working.

Click, click, click, click—

A tender flame emerged from the lighter's barrel. Yes!

Naim entered the small room. By the light of the flickering flame, she could scarcely see the dancing shadows of various religious artifacts. A sconced candle was on the wall, which she lit before pocketing the lighter. She rummaged through what must have been a dozen cabinets, none of which held anything of use.

Naim, shaking with anxious energy, dropped to her knees in despair. What do I do? She couldn't help but curl herself into a ball on the cold wooden floor. Vio's going to die. It's over—it's all over!

There, eyes level to the ground, she saw a hole in the wall. A brick was missing—and the candle's light emanating from the opposite wall seemed to pass through the opening. On her hands and knees, Naim crawled toward it. She peered inside. A room? Or a passage of some kind, hidden behind the brick wall. Naim tugged and pulled at the bricks above it, but they didn't budge a hair. She kicked and prodded, to no effect.

Ion's cross, she thought. She ran to the chapel and took hold of Ion's steel rod. In her haste, she fumbled it, and it dropped to the ground with a resounding clatter. She winced at the noise, and turned to see Ion, fully expecting that he'd have awoken. But there he laid, still fast asleep. She took hold of the cross again and ran back to the sacristy, shutting the door behind her in hopes of dampening the sound she'd make.

Naim heaved the heavy cross as a pick and hit it against the wall. Clang! The bricks moved, but hardly. She hit it again, and again. Clang! Clang! The wall was collapsing. With a few more hits, the bricks were loose enough to pry. Naim used the cross as a lever, and several bricks finally fell to the floor. There was now an opening just large enough for her to crawl through. Arms weak, she dropped the cross and held again the lighter. Click, click, click. In the waning light of the tender flame, she squeezed through the newly formed passage. Fine wooden flooring turned to rough stone. A pitch-dark staircase leading to what must have been a basement came into view. There was no time for hesitation. Naim quickly descended the steep stairs till they opened up to a large room.

Naim stepped down, and felt icy liquid fill her shoes. The entire basement was flooded with a foul-smelling water. Tears of gratitude filled Naim's eyes. Thank you! Thank you, thank you! She didn't know to whom her little prayer was directed, but words of thanks filled her mind all the same.

Naim turned and ran back up the stairs—shoes sloshing and slopping all the way. She returned to Vio's side, and prodded his shell once again. He was unbearably hot. She squeezed her eyes shut. Just do it.

In one swift motion, before she could hesitate, she took Vio in her arms. The pain was blaring. Awful searing lit her arms aflame. It was all she could do to not scream. Her soul cried out in panic: Drop it! Drop it now! Naim grit her teeth and moved as fast as her feet could carry her. Halfway between the pew and the sacristy, she had the overwhelming urge to let him go, but she knew that if she did, she would never be able to convince herself to pick him up again.

The candle still lit the sacristy, but the passage beyond it was far too dark. Naim balanced Vio in her left arm as she fumbled through her pocket to take hold of the lighter with the right.

Hurry, hurry, hurry!

Click, click, click.

Naim moaned in agony from pain and frustration. She took to the staircase, clutching Vio in both arms, grasping the lighter in her fingers. Again and again, she pulled the trigger in vain as she slowly descended the stairs in pitch darkness. Nothing could hold back her screams of pain now.

"MAKE IT STOP, GOD, MAKE IT STOP!"

Click, click, click. The lighter was useless.

In her haste, Naim misstepped. She felt air where there should have been stone, and then felt herself fall forward. Panicked, she clutched Vio even tighter. Down she fell, hitting every remaining stair with sickening thuds, until she finally splashed into the shallow water at the bottom. Face down in the pool, Naim raised her head to gasp for air, coughing up the salty, rancid-tasting water. Vio still in her arms, and still burning just as hot—though miraculously unharmed from the fall—Naim tried to drop him into the cold water... but he was stuck to her skin. Naim let out a pained, fearful cry as she attempted to peel her arms away from the egg's shell. As she did, she felt her skin peel off, too. Finally, Vio dropped into the water with a splash, separated from Naim. As Vio hit the water, Naim could hear the violent sound of sizzling for what felt like minutes.

As Naim soaked her burned arms in the cool water, she wept bitter, choked, sniveling sobs. Her hands, her forearms, and even her chest where Vio had made contact with it stung, especially at the cold water's touch. Though perhaps the ordeal had only lasted a minute and a half as she carried Vio to the basement, Naim's entire world was filled with pain. Even now, there was little relief. She shook, she cried, she wailed.

"Why?!" was the only word that escaped her lips. Why?