HOTSPOT

9

That night, James' fever reaches a scorching high. His breaths grow shallower, skin soaked in sweat, unresponsive to Noah's touches. Noah doesn't leave his side, barely touching the food Lora and I bring him.

He dies the next morning. I know it the moment Lora approaches me, hands tangled together and trembling, eyes glazed over. My heart thumps dully in my ears as I meet her, dread coiling in my stomach like a nest of snakes.

"He won't let me—he won't let me near him."

"Okay." I can't force myself to speak any louder than a whisper. "I'll... I'll talk to him."

"Thank you."

I hurry down the ramp to the level beneath it. I hesitate outside the tent—the rusted zipper is pulled up, letting the flap hang limp in the muggy, unmoving air. Then I push it aside, slipping inside.

Noah is in much the same spot as yesterday. When I crouch next to him, he lashes out suddenly, giving me a shove that sends me falling back onto my hands.

"Don't touch him!"

"Noah!" I lunge towards him and grab his hands. "Noah, it's me."

He freezes as he recognizes me. Then he falls into my arms, shoulders shaking with sobs. I pull him closer, gently untangling him from the cooling body of his brother. I shift James' silent, unmoving form onto the blankets on the floor to better wrap my arms around Noah.

He makes no move to pull away, even after my legs have started to cramp up, twisted awkwardly against the floor. I don't know how much time passes, but I've resolved to not moving away until he does.

"He didn't even—he didn't even wake up," Noah finally chokes out. "He never even knew that I was with him."

I adjust my position, shifting my legs beneath me and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to press him to my side. Fuck, what do I even say to him? We've all dealt with grieving friends—death is nothing strange in this world. But it never gets easier.

"I... I'm sure he knew, Noah. Somehow."

They're empty words. But they're all I can give. I shift, swallowing, and reach for his arm.

"Why don't we get you some water, okay?"

He jerks away from me like he's been burned, reaching for his brother, hands fumbling and clumsy with desperation. "No, I have to stay here."

"Okay, okay—" I slump back to the floor, reaching for his hands and gently pulling them away. "Okay. We'll stay here. Alright? We'll stay here together."

He slumps back against me, barely able to nod. The exhaustion is clearly catching up with him—up all night watching James, almost nothing to eat or drink, and now all the nonstop crying will have taken its toll. I wrap my arm around him, feeling his sobs slow into silent weeping until his weight finally shifts onto me more heavily, his eyelids drooping. I ease him down onto my lap, cradling his head in my arms. He mumbles a few indecipherable words, curling in on himself. I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling his breathing settle until he finally falls into a restless sleep.

—

With James moved quietly from the tent, I gently slide Noah off onto the floor and pull one of the blankets over his shoulders. He twitches in his sleep, but doesn't wake up, so I let myself out of the tent, pushing a hand through my tangled hair. I feel heavy, like there's a weight pressing on my shoulders that I can't shake.

Maybe I'm just tired.

It's a cloudy afternoon, watery shafts of sunlight breaking through the low-hanging sky. A few people hang around, chatting in small groups or heading down to the storage level. I spot Ama at the same time she sees me.