Rise and Fall [[BEING MOVED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT]]

Chapter Eighteen

Eighteen

"Pardon." 

It's all I can say.  

"Pardon...?" Haden questions, and his tone suggests that I've finally lost my mind. It's funny. He doesn't know the half of it. 

"Yeah. Pardon. Him. Right there." I point to the bed. To the boy. Dark haired, and heaped into the sheets. Chest slowly rising and falling as his eyes struggle to follow the darkened shapes beneath his lids. 

"Pardon him...?" Haden is still confused. 

"It's his name," I explain, stepping closer to the bed. "His name's Pardon." I take a deep breath. "He's my brother's best friend." 

"Keyne?" 

My body stiffens, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Haden can't see. Can't see the pain the name causes me. I won't let him. I won't be branded a weakling who's lost his brother. Even though it's all my fault. 

"Yeah." My voice is gruff. 

"Can I help you?" An older woman has wandered into the cabin. Her steps are heavy, and her back is bent with the stress that I can only assume comes with this place. These cabins. The people who dwell there. 

"Yes. This is the one I showed you earlier. The one I thought was his brother." 

She looks at him. "But can I help you? I'm very busy, Haden. There are a lot of wounded people here." 

I grimace, but neither of them take any notice. 

"Yes, uhm, do you happen to know if he came with another boy? About his age?" 

The woman sighs. "Describe him to me," she says, waving her hands in a 'hurry up' motion. "There are a lot of little boys like this one here." 

"Alek?" Haden prompts. 

"Hmm? Oh. Uhm, he's about this tall," I motion to a point halfway down my bicep, "with darker hair than mine, straight, and pretty short, and blue eyes." I search her eyes for a glimmer of recognition, and my hope is dashed almost immediately. 

"No, I'm sorry, I don't know of a specific boy. Like I said, there are a lot here, and some are disfigured beyond recognition. What's his name? I'll see what I can do." 

"Keyne," I say dully.  

She nods. "I'll see." 

"Thank you," I say, and watch her hang a new IV on Pardon's stand.  

"Do you two know this boy?" she asks when we don't leave. 

"He does," Haden says. "Would you mind if we wait until he wakes?" 

"Not at all. He'll come to soon. I can wait to hook up this IV for maybe fifteen minutes. Any longer, and the pain of his burns will be unbearable. Be quick. I'll be back." 

With that, she leaves, and we're left here alone. We stand in glazed silence until suddenly, Haden clears his throat. 

My eyes snap into focus, and bore holes into the slowly waking boy. I see him wince, and watch him blink blearily. A confused expression crosses his young features, and his voice reaches me groggily from the bed. 

"Alek?" 

"Pardon."  

My voice comes out in a rush as I realize that I'm holding my breath. I want to ask him a million questions, but I don't know where to start. 

"Where's Keyne?" 

Two words, and all my questions flee the premises of my mind in a wide arc. I sag considerably. 

"I don't know." 

Pardon sags a bit too, but not as much, and not as defeated. Keyne's his best friend. Not his brother. And it's not his fault he's gone. 

We're silent a minute, then Pardon winces again. He moves his arms stiffly, and the sight depresses me. "What happened?" I ask, gesturing to the decrepit limbs. 

Pardon's face falls, and blue waves lap at the corners of his eyelids. 

"I got trapped in my house while my mom was at the pond. I had to push up against the door with my arms to try and get it open. It didn't open." 

"How'd you get out?" 

"Broke the front window." 

I picture it. Pardon's house torn to shreds by flying glass, and burned to ashes by the parading victors. Holding their accomplishment over Fall like the smoke that could be seen for miles. I can only imagine the panic of Tallya, his mother, when she returned from whatever she had been doing at the pond to find her home vanquished of every living soul. Then again, she probably counted herself among the dead. I decide not to ask. 

"Did you see Keyne at all that day?" I feel it's a better question. I don't want to tap the frigid ocean in his eyes. 

Pardon shakes his head. "Sorry. Everyone was running around, and there were all these guys in black everywhere. I think your house burned first out of all of ours, though. I mean, after the House. Was he in there?" 

I shake my head back. "No. He wasn't." I offer no more details, even as waves of interest crash from his eyes. He's gotten something from the bitterness of my tone, but he's halted there. Afraid to know the truth. 

I don't care. I'm remembering. I was sleeping when Summer struck. I had always been one for mental rest throughout the day, and that day had been no different. I had been sleeping, and awoke when the smell of fire reached my nostrils, and the air began to choke. I remember rushing to the window. Stalling as I watched the world ignite. I saw the fire jump. Twist. Leap. Laugh with manic glee at the screams of fear and pain from the ones who could not escape. 

But somehow I did. 

And so did Pardon Kaine. 

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask, gesturing to his arms once again. 

He shrugs. His face seems pinched with pain, and I immediately regret bringing it up. His burns must be killing him.  

"I don't know," he says, and the waves lap as I watch his eyes. It's hitting him. I can see it. The life of pain that lies ahead. Provided he's able to live it. 

"I have to hook it up now." 

The nurse is back, and Pardon leans dejectedly back against the propped up pillows. Offering a charred arm to the needle. He cries out as the needle re-enters his body, and the waves finally crash against the shore of his cheeks. 

It's my cue. 

I slip away.