Page 80 of Delirium

“You’re not real,” I muttered out loud. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. I’m sick.”

In more ways than one. And what is real, anyway? Such a silly word. If it feels absolute, maybe it is real. And I feel pretty tangible to you, don’t I?

“Go away.” I went to quench the fire, taking one last look at the camp before I did so. It was clear of any physical dangers, so I smothered the flames with large, wet leaves. It was only once the fire was out that I realized the rainclouds had entirely covered the stars and moon, leaving me entirely in the pitch dark.

I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

And yet, the black jaguar licking its paws, sitting on the edges of the tree in front of me was perfectly clear.

The jaguar met my gaze. The eyes staring back at me could’ve been human. “Don’t fight reality, Nash,” it purred. “You might find you like the world better once you’ve lost your mind.”

I’d never run as fast as I did, hoping I was running in the direction of the tent, tumbling inside the nylon. My hands were shaking so bad I fumbled zipping it closed.

A soft hand rested on top of mine. “Let me.”

Scarlett zipped up the tent, pulling me against her, spooning against my back. She stroked my hair away from my face with the gentlest of touches.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, mimicking my words to her. “I promise, Nash. We’re going to be okay, as long as we’re together.”

I’d never been as grateful for rain as when it started tapping against the roof of the tent, because the sounds of the raindrops drowned out the whispers that grew louder by the minute.

Tell me what you truly dream of, for I can see right through you.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

SCARLETT

Helplessness wasn’t a feeling I had very often, and if I had a choice, I’d eradicate it altogether. I just wanted to fix things, to make things better.

I held Nash all night while he trembled and shook in my arms, whispering about jaguars and dreams. When I wasn’t holding Nash, I was pressing my wrist to Camp’s forehead, making sure he wasn’t too feverish, or holding my fingers to his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating. My nature wasn’t pessimistic, but I think even the most optimistic of people would say the situation we found ourselves in didn’t exactly have apositiveoutlook.

Rain tapped on the thin roof of the tent, the only thing keeping us out of the elements. As cozy as it was inside the tent, we eventually weren’t going to have a choice, and would have to move, rain or no rain.

I closed my eyes for a moment, entranced by the sounds around us. I could’ve been anywhere else, listening to the frogs calling good morning to each other, and a lone howler monkey crying out to its mate in a neighboring treetop.

Nash stirred in my arms, and I rubbed his shoulders lightly. “Hey,” I whispered. “You okay?”

I didn’t know why I expected any other response except, “Much better. Must have just been a bad night.”

He sat up, and I rolled my eyes. The big man wouldn’t confess to feeling sick even if he woke up to find his leg fallen off. Not that I was much better. The fever waited patiently at the edges of my consciousness, and every so often I caught a flicker of something out of the corner of my eye, things that couldn’t be real.

It was easy enough to chalk those up to being in such extreme isolation, though. Malaria or no, those things happened.

“Right. We need to get a move on.” I untucked myself from between the various bodies and crouched. “I’m going to put my boots on and wait outside for the rest of you.”

“It’s raining,” James remarked from the far side of the tent.

“Great observation, doctor. I don’t know what we’d do without your shrewd eyes.” Camp rolled back over, tossing the sleeping bag over his head.

“We don’t have time for this today.” I pressed my fingertips into my eyes, my back already hurting from standing awkwardly inside the tent. The telltale prickles of leg cramps were already beginning in my calves, and we couldn’t afford for us all to be sick in the middle of nowhere. We had to make some good progress we all got too sick to move. “There will be no fighting. You will get dressed, and take down the tent. I’ll find some breakfast, and then we’re going to hike—yes, James, in the rain, you won’t melt—and once we’re safe, I don’t care what you do to one another.”

Camp grumbled something from beneath the blankets, but I ignored him. I would just get annoyed, and that would start no one’s day off right.

Boots laced, I stepped outside the tent, the world changed overnight by the rain. Everything seemed slightly fuzzier, a little bit hazy around the edges, less crisp and clear than it’d been the day before. The fog definitely wasn’t helping things.

The cluster of trees in front of me held a bit more shelter than the rest of the small clearing we were in. That would be a good enough place to duck inside. I lifted up the hood of my thin poncho, and sprinted through the rain.

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