I rush to Nolan’s side, stroking his forehead. It’s gone cold, clammy with sweat that reminds me of morning dew.
His eyes are open, but they’re darting about the room, less in confusion and more as if I’d happened to peek underneath his eyelids while he was having a dream.
“What’s happening to him?” asks a small voice from the doorway. I glance up to find Smalls trembling, eyes wide as he stares at Nolan’s limp form. Benjamin and the Twins watch from behind.
“Smalls, run and get the healer,” says Victor. When Smalls doesn’t move, he shouts, “Now.”
Smalls scurries off, and the other boys too. Christopher and Aaron come back first, carrying wet cloths, which they place on Nolan’s forehead. Benjamin returns next, a satchel of home remedies slung over his shoulder.
I place my fingers underneath Nolan’s jaw, relieved to the point of breathlessness when I find a pulse.
“We heard him fall,” says Charlie, Maddox nodding in confirmation. “We ran into the room and found him…” Her tanned skin has gone pale, her face full of horror.
“Charlie,” I say. “You’ve seen him like this before.” When she doesn’t respond except with her mouth agape, I say, “Please tell me you’ve seen him like this before.”
We both glance down, and my stomach turns over as, before my eyes, the graying vines of Nolan’s illness slither further up his neck, cradling his jawline and creeping out from underneath his beard, stroking his cheeks. His darting eyes are bloodshot, and though he’s breathing, his inhales are labored, his mouth agape.
With each rise of his chest, there’s a scraping sound. Like metal on metal.
“Tell me you’ve seen him like this,” I practically scream.
Charlie turns the color of a ghost. It’s Maddox’s strong and sturdy hands that find me, and I sink backward into his chest, still unable to take my eyes off my husband.
“Smalls should be back with the healer by now,” Victor says, pacing.
The rest of us stay silent, all thinking the same thing.
Victor stops in his tracks, understanding washing over his face. He glances down at Nolan, then back at me, stricken.
Despair threatens to envelop me, lingering on all sides of my vision, on the edges of my very being. No, this can’t be it. This can’t be…
“We could go tonight,” says Victor. “There’s a path up the mountain. It’s dangerous, blocked off by guards, but I know them. I can talk them into letting us up.”
“No.”
Everyone in the room startles at the raspy voice. I look at the bed, only to find that Nolan’s eyes have come into focus. He’s staring at me. “No. Darling, stay. Please, until the end.”
I throw myself on my husband, careful to avoid his still heaving chest.
“I thought I had lost you,” I whisper, my tears soaking his cheeks.
Nolan tries to smile, but the attempt looks more like a grimace.
My heart falls as his words finally settle in.
“No, no, this isn’t the end,” I insist.
“Darling.”
I press my forehead against his, though our skin is separated by the wet cloth, already scorching with fever.
“We need new rags,” I call to Christopher and Aaron.
“It’s quite crowded in here,” says Nolan.
Maddox nods, leading the Lost Boys out of the room, all except for Victor, who stands his ground. “If we tarry, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I appreciate your concern,” says Nolan, “but I’m afraid I don’t have a chance either way, and I wish to drift off in peace.”
