Page 77 of Here for a Good Time
Despite now having two free hands, being on my side on the slippery floor makes it trickier for me to undo the rope around my feet, although I attribute a large part of that to the fact that it’s tied in the kind of knot that would impress even the most veteran of sailors.
While I’m fumbling to untie the knot, my throat begins itching and closing up. I try to cough, but it’s like all of the oxygen is being suctioned out of the room. It’s only then that I look up and see the thin black fog that’s rolling in. Still no flames, but smoke means they can’t be far behind.
“Faster!” Zwe shouts.
I gulp, a new rush of adrenaline coursing through all ten of my mangled fingers. I undo one knot, and then another, then another—but it doesn’t seem to end. Now, in addition to the air getting harder to breathe, the whole room is getting hotter. I feel like I’m in a sauna room that’s made of metal and has been cranked up to the max.
Wiping sweat off of my forehead, I look at the jumble of rope still binding my legs together. The knots have to endsomewhere.
“Fuck! This! Fucking!” I gasp for oxygen with each word. “Stupid! Place!”
On the last word, the rope falls to my feet, and I flail about to kick it fully off. I know I have to get up, but I feel like a crumpled piece of paper.
“Run!” Zwe shouts. “Poe, go! Run!”
“You dummy,” I pant. Rolling myself over and onto my palms and knees, I crawl toward Zwe, wheezing with each movement. “I make a big, grand speech, and you think—” I gulp in some desperate oxygen. “—I’m going to just leave you here?”
“Don’t be stupid!”
“Youdon’t be stupid!” I retort, still crawling. I glare at him through my blurry, still-speckled vision, then remember I shouldn’t be getting angry because I need to save my energy, then get evenangrierat him for making me angry in the first place. “Shut. Up. Just shut the hell up.”
When I reach him, I begin working on the rope around his feet while he continues to work on his hands.
We go at it in tandem, each focused on our own tasks while the wind swirls leaves and bits of foliage in dramatic movements around us.
After several long moments, Zwe exclaims, “Got it!” He wriggles his shoulders a bit, and then his hands are working on top of, next to, underneath mine as we try to free his feet.
“Maybe you can crawl,” I suggest. I don’t want to bring it to his attention, but I’m certain he can see how trembly my fingers are. So trembly that I don’t think they could even hold a cup, let alone untie a series of complex knots.
He doesn’t respond immediately. And when he does, it’s not with words.
I’m attempting to pull out a particular loop when both of Zwe’s hands close around mine. “What?” I snap. I’m about to scold him for stopping when he gives me a soft smile, and my stomach twists. “No,” I say.
“Go,” he says.
“No!” I repeat.
“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
If I had the energy, I swear I would reach up and slap him. “It’s obvious that the smoke has gotten to your brain,” I say. “We’ll get that checked out when we make it to the hospital.”
I go to push his hands away, but he firms his grip. “You’re not—”
“No,you’renot.”
Aware of the timer, my mind starts scrambling. I wonder if I can pick up this chair like mothers who suddenly find the strength to lift a tractor off of their child, but it’s one of those large traditional Chinese antique rosewood chairs that require several people to move in the best of circumstances.
I straighten myself from my prior hunched position, and although we’re not quite at eye level, with him bent over, Icanlean into his face. Which I do. Despite our proximity, the rain and wind have picked up so much that I still have to yell. I turn my back on the storm outside and lean in closer. “You are out of your fucking mind if you think I’m leaving you!”
“And you’re out ofyourfucking mind if you think I’m going to take you down with me!” Zwe shouts back. “What is the point ofbothof us dying here?”
“Thepoint—” While he’s distracted, I forcefully shove his stupid wide palms away and resume working. “Is that I don’t want to go home without you! I’m not going to! You really think you love me more than I love you, don’t you?”
“I do!” he shouts through tears.
“Well, that’s fucking arrogant of you!” Why won’t this damn knot untie? Why, dear God, why? “You are the most infuriating person—”
Warm, rough skin presses into each of my cheeks, and Zwe liftsmy face, places his forehead against mine. I can smell the sweat and saltiness coating his face.
