Woman Overboard

Chapter 16 : Waking (2)

Edward

September 1st, 1820

(2:15 AM)

Edward woke to the sound of Afiba's angry, raspy voice in his ear.

Apparently, he and Oni were the last to hear the call. Everyone else was already picking themselves up off the forest floor or helping themselves to a stale item from the provisions boat.

Afiba was mad again, and no one seemed to have the energy to refute her. Abigail busied herself with Oni who had begun throwing up the moment he tried to stand. Jaiye was standing by himself with a tin mug of what Sam and Pedro were trying to pass as coffee but looked like dirty water. Even Aless stayed quiet, picking through a bowl of mushy for edible bits.

"Alright, alright," Edward muttered as Afiba stomped away. He groaned into sitting position, feeling his bones creak to life under his sunburned skin. He planted his feet on the ground to stand up but immediately drew them back.

His feet were damaged beyond repair at this point. Three of his toenails had vacated their positions and two more were getting ready to break free. He had big black blisters on nearly all his toes and one long one on the balls of each of his feet. His heels were coated in blood and his ankles crackled in protest when he tried to move them.

Edward suspected the others were in similar types of pain, but everyone knew better than to gripe about it. Perhaps they had gotten their rest last night, but that small victory on their part had only meant that Afiba woke up even more ruthless.

Edward wondered what time it was. The moon still hung high in the night's velvety blue backdrop. They couldn't have been asleep for more than five hours. He supposed this was a generous allotment by Afiba's standards.

He braced himself and stood up. His feet screamed in anguish, but he ignored them. Skirting around the perimeter of the clearing, Edward pulled himself toward the food boat. As much as his feet hurt, his stomach felt even worse.

When at last he reached the repurposed lifeboat, Pedro had already poured him a mug of polluted water. "Sorry, early birds got the good stuff," he explained, looking with dissatisfaction into the depths of the diluted coffee.

"I don't care," Edward muttered. "Just need to get some food in me."

"Sure thing, my friend," Samuel agreed. He wore an unfathomably cheerful grin and a thick coat of mud on his face. Edward thought he might get some later so the burns wouldn't sting so badly. "What'll it be: mush or slush?"

Edward let out a dry chuckle. "I'll take the mush."

The mush turned out to be what Aless was so thoroughly inspecting before. Essentially, it was a cold oatmeal variety made with powdered oats and old water. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to bring anything that could possibly become contaminated in the sunlight, nor anything rich enough to slow them down, which left them with the mush and a stranger, harder substance consolidated into bars the size of dollar bills. Edward hardly tasted his breakfast enough to hate it, though. He still felt fey with sleep.

But he was sentient enough to know that he couldn't go on like this much longer. He needed to be patched up. After taking a couple bites of his mush, Edward took his bowl over to where Parris was already busy with an array of injured men.

"Ahoy," Edward said, nodding to the surgeon.

Parris just nodded, neglecting to look up from the cut he was cleaning. "Good morning to you, sir."

"When you get a second, I would like to see if there's anything to be done for my feet." When Parris didn't answer, Edward continued, "They're blistered, you see. It's so bad that the blisters are blistering."

The surgeon glanced at him, his eyes weary. "Everyone's are, Edward," he said as though this was obvious. Edward blinked at him. Parris sighed and told him, "I'm sorry, but I will not have time before we're set to depart. If I were you, I would tear a sleeve from my shirt and use it as a bandage. Further than that, I cannot help you."

Edward felt a little stung by Parris's apathy, but thanked him anyway. He left to force the rest of the mush down his throat in peace.

Soon, he felt a presence behind him. He didn't feel like moving, so Edward let them sit down next to him. Even then, he kept his eyes trained on his mush. The moment they leaned toward him, Edward realized who it was. Even after hours upon hours of trudging through the woods, Aless still had her own distinct scent.

When he looked at her, he saw that she actually was clean. He pushed back a tinge of annoyance at himself for not allowing time to bathe. She looked wonderfully pristine. It was nice to see someone raw and pink from scrubbing their skin rather than because of a torturous sunburn.

Edward remained groggy enough that he voiced his thoughts. "You smell good," he said.

Aless smiled, sending a tingle of warmth through Edward's nerves. She hadn't smiled at him since their fight. It had only been days ago, but it felt like decades to him. "Why, thank you," she replied. "I'm sorry, but I can't, in good conscience, return the compliment."

Edward chuckled. "I take no offense." And he didn't. He was just glad to have Aless talking to him.

But then she frowned at him. "Are you alright?" Aless asked. "You look a bit out of it."

"Just tired," He muttered.

Aless brushed her knuckles over the side of his face, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. "You're warm," she noted. "I think you may be running a fever--"

"Why are you talking to me?" Edward interrupted. He regretted it the moment the impulsive remark crossed his lips. Who cared why she was talking to him? At least she was, even if she had some ulterior motive.

She drew her hand away. "I . . . I just don't want to die with you angry at me. I thought we should make peace before it's too late."

Edward stared at her for a moment. "Aless, no one's dying," he assured her. "We're going to be okay."

Aless shook her head. "If the governor wants us dead so badly as he does, I can't imagine that there will not be a militia at my parent's estate, especially since The King James saw us docking here."

"But . . . we can take them, right?" Edward said. "We'll fight them. We'll win."

"Look," Aless sighed. "All I am saying is that we don't know. We don't know who will come out alive and unaltered, okay? So I want to make peace with you now while we can both still say with unaddled minds that we forgive each other."

Edward sighed. "Well, then," he said, "I wish my forgiveness was enough to make you love me, but I suppose that isn't how it works."

Aless gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid not." She reached out a hand. "But I forgive you."

Edward took her hand. "I forgive you too."