Ask me no questions...

Chapter 8: Nightfall

Dashiell

I wake up with my face on a tile floor. My head feels like a bomb went off inside it. And my mouth feels like it's full of sand. I'm so thirsty. And my every bone feels like it's been hollowed out. Painful. But weirdly light.
I groan and try to move but that sends more pain through my limbs. I can smell salt, and blood, and there's so much noise. Just pounding. Crashing.
Waves. Ship.
I'm on the ship.
I'm on the ship. They attacked. It's blurry. Hazy. Everything is so hazy. I want to die. I'm cold. I'm really cold. Why am I so cold? And why is everything pounding? Why can I hear the waves? Blood is sharp and metallic smelling all over my face and I can sweat rolling down my back.
What happened? They attacked us.
"Skyler," I breath, trying to push myself up. My eyes open but they're sandy, and I can see bloody stained tile. I'm lying in my own vomit. And I can barely move something is wrong with me. Something happened. "Skyler."
"I'm right here."
With great pain I roll over. She's sitting across from me. We're in a tiny state room. And she's covered in blood. One leg she has wrapped up in a splint. Her eyes are clearly red rimmed from crying. She's taken off her sweater and jacket, cut it up to make the splint for her leg. Her t-shirt is stained and torn.
I breath, raggedly, trying to lick my lips. My throat is raw, my mouth is so dry. Why is she sitting there like that? Looking at me as though I'm dead? Her face is stained with tears like she's been crying for me, and she looks at me with grief. That terrible, heartbroken side of love.
"What is it?" I breath, trying to touch my chest. I'm in pain everywhere. Am I hurt? Dying? I must have gotten hurt and I don't see it?
"Something happened," she whispers, her voice shaking.
"What?" I ask. I touch my chest. It is bloody. But the blood is running down from my neck. From my neck. I lay a hand carefully on the raw wound. "No," I whisper. Oh god no. Please. Not this.
"I couldn't leave you out there," she whispers.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I say, crawling over on the floor. I'm so. So weak.
She nods, tears running down her face, "I didn't want lose you. I couldn't do it." Her hand is on a stake. She knows that if I'm not in my right mind after the turning, she needs to stake me. In all logic she should have done it when I was turning and immobile. But she waited to see if I could pull through it.
"I'm okay. I promise. It's me. Your name is Skyler Mccan. We met on the seventh of December. Your favorite flower is the violet. You sleep with your arm under your head. Your favorite flavor of ice cream is that awful lemon, we got at Pike's market. And you want to own seven dogs. You put your mascara on your right eye, then your left. And put that green, Kelp cream on your face before bed. And I promised you I would marry you under a meteor shower, in a national park. Our baby is due in the first week of march. And I love you, more than anything. This is me," I whisper, moving over to lay my hand on hers. My own bloodied hand. Hers are bloody too. I touch her skin and it instantly burns me. I jerk back, wincing in pain.
"It is you," she says, softly, reaching up to take her cross necklace off. Of course. I lost mine in the fight. Which is how I got turned.
"It's me," I say, staring up at her, "Don't. There could be more—others—,"
She takes it off and puts it on the floor. Then she reaches out. Her hand is shaking.
I take it in mine, pressing it to my face. Not my lips, not now. I can't see her face as she tries not to pull away.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, still holding her hand.
"You're going to be sick. You need to eat," she says, quietly.
"I'm okay," I say, I can't stand the idea right now. And I have no real clue where we are. Painfully, I pull myself up against the wall to sit beside her. She looks at me, eyes filled with tears.
"I love you," I say, pressing my face into her hair, "Even if we only get this." she smells like, rosemary, and violets. And soft, sweet scents, like warm taffy, and candy. And I can still hear everything. But close to her I can even hear the air swishing in and out of her lungs.
"I don't know how to get us out. There are more on all the floors. I barricaded us in. But. I can't put weight on this leg. And I don't know what is out there for you to eat," she says, softly. She means blood.
"I'll get us out," I say. I don't know how much longer we can keep me. I mean do we keep vampires yeah we can do that but they know who I am. I'm wanted. And I was known to be on this ship. That's a pain and a half. It'll be damn obvious I've turned if I just disappear. And the first place to look is my parent's house. "I don't know how far I can I run, or how long I can make it like this. But I'll get you out of here, you and the baby."
"I don't think the baby's okay. After we got separated they got me pretty good, half my ribs are broken, it's not gonna be okay," she says, her voice cracking.
"No," I say, carefully putting a hand on her now firm belly. We're not far like seventeen weeks but her once lean belly is chubby and firm. We didn't realize she was pregnant when we set off, but we've since figured it out. We were going to turn around and go home as soon as we hit port.
I lower my breathing, trying to isolate the sounds. I can hear the steady swish of Skyler's heart. Then beneath my fingers, I feel what I was already hearing. A slow, methodic, but very firm beat of the baby's heart. I feel tears gather in my eyes as I listen to my child's reassuring heartbeat. "No, I can hear its heart."
"You can?" She asks, her hand tightening on mine.
"Yes, I can hear it's heartbeat, it's okay," I say, softly.
She puts her hand over mine on her rounding belly. It was last night I was tangled up in the sheets with her, kissing the stretch marks one at a time, curled up in our narrow bunk. Took us long enough to figure out she was pregnant, we kept mistaking morning sickness for sea sickness. Then about six weeks ago she started showing and yes we figured it out. Now I'm listening to my baby's heartbeat. Tears run down my cheeks as I shift to cradle her in my arms.
"I'm going to get you both somewhere safe," I say, rubbing her belly. The baby's heartbeat is fine, it's fine. Steady and sure.
"I'm so glad you're here," Skyler whispers, finally relaxing in my arms as I cradle her against me, just listening to the sounds of their hearts beating, nearly in rhythm.
"I did say I was going to be there for you, forever. Looks a bit different than we thought," I say, "And forever might not be a very long time."
"I don't know how to get out of here," she says.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"It's dusk, you woke up as soon as the sun went down. You've been having seizures—turning, really—all day," she says.
"Okay," I breath, "I need to get you out of here. We need to get to the control deck, we can radio for help. And we need to move now."
"They're going to move at night," she says.
"So am I," I say, trying to keep the anger from my voice, "I'm gonna be equally useless come day. I'm still a slayer. I can get us up there. Even if they're at full strength. And I'm not tangling with the sun." It's not like Freddy, or any of our Dhampire associates who will just get The Godfather of all sun burns. Oh no. I will be killed by sunlight. Clothing and the like can cover it up but that's not at all practical in a full fight.
"Okay," she says, "That might not work."
"I know."
"I was going to ask you to turn me too," she says, "So at least if it doesn't work we can die together in the morning."
"No, no, never," I say, my hand still on her belly.
"No, not now if the baby is okay—that might hurt it," she says.
"I have no idea what it would do to it. No, the two of you, will get off this ship alive, I swear it," I say.
"You need to eat," she says, "You're gonna be sick. If you're doing this you need to eat something."
"I'm not taking human blood," I know where she's going with this.
"Dash, I'm bleeding everywhere just drink it."
"No. End of discussion. There will be some animal—meat in the kitchen. I don't care. I am not doing that," I say, pressing my face into her hair. She smells so beautiful. It's intoxicating almost. So lovely and sweet. I wonder if all humans smell this nice or just her. Or what I am like now.
"You're such an idiot."
"Yeah well. You're stuck with me," I say, rubbing her arm, "You need to eat."
"I couldn't exactly search the room."
"Here," I get up and very painfully climb to my feet. The sink still works. In the bunk I find the former owner's backpack. Several bags of chips and a bag of water. I return with all that.
"Take some," she says.
"Baby, blood loss, I'm technically undead and therefore can't die unless I'm put in sunlight or staked, other excuses," I wave a hand at her.
"Yeah, but—,"
"I'm not going to feral," I say, checking the bathroom. A few cleaning wipes. I return with those and sit down on the floor next to her.
"I'm just worried about you," she says, studying me.
"Do I look different?" I ask, rubbing my mouth. I'm pretty disgusting from my blood and vomit.
"You're pale. Your eyes look different somehow, like a bit bigger pupil. And your teeth—,"
"Shit," I mutter, sticking a finger in my mouth. Sure enough, my two incisors are slick and pointed. The others feel sharper as well.
"It's fine," she says, touching my arm.
"If they catch me, don't—don't tell the baby I was like this, all right?" I mutter.
"Okay," she says, voice shaking a little.
"Because you and the baby, are going home. And you're gonna be safe. You've met my family you can stay there forever," I say, rubbing her good leg. She doesn't have much family. Got killed by monsters, that's how she joined the Hunt. So she's got us.
"Your family is cool."
"My family is disorganized," I mutter, checking her leg, "You think if I got you better supports, you could put weight on this?"
"Maybe, but that's all I had plus my stake," she says.
I walk over to the bunk bed, gesturing to it.
"Dashiell you cannot rip that apart with your bare hands."
"Watch me," I say, tugging on the metal rungs. Slowly, but surely, it bends. I get one bar off, then another. I'm panting from the effort. But damn if super-strength isn't useful. I smile, pleased with myself, then immediately remember my teeth or rather fangs. That's what they're called now. Fangs.
"Stop it," Skyler smiles too, "Show off."
"Come here, this may hurt," I say, taking off my flannel shirt. I'm wearing a wife beater underneath. I don't have proper UV clothes so I am gonna have to stay out of the sun anyway tomorrow. If I live to see dawn.
"It's okay, just do it," she winces, helping move her leg.
"Here, if I can get brace this firm enough, and strap it in, then you might be able to just drag it, hopefully I clear the way, you walk," I say.
"We're on the third level down. We have to go up three floors, to get to the control deck," she says.
"Then looks like we're going up three floors," I say, reaching out to hold her hand, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, Dashiell, I trust you," she says, curling my hand against her stomach. The baby is moving. I smile, listening to their hearts beat. That's how I want to die. I don't care if the sun comes out if I can lie there listening to their hearts beat, knowing they'll be all right.