Chapter Thirteen
Michael
I nearly punched a guard, that first day. Demanded to see Han. Her fever had spiked rapidly. But, two days later, the doctor told me she would be released the next day. That day seemed to drag on. Anticipating our reunion. Would she be excited to see me? Disappointed? I slept sparingly that night. I would fall asleep for roughly thirty minutes, then wake up soaked in sweat. This had been the same for the past nights. Nightmares about the island haunted me. Worries about my friends, still there. The people who had rescued us were indeed the American government. They took us back to the mainland, despite my protests to go back for the others. When I woke for the final time that night, it was finally morning. Light poured in from a window near the ceiling, so we couldn’t escape. Yet again, we were prisoners. I checked the clock beside my bed. I was the only one staying in a room lined with bunks. Ten sets of bunks, so twenty bunks in all. And I was alone. That was another reason for my lack of sleep. Sleeping for five months with the breaths of other people around me, it was weird sleeping alone. It was eight am. The doctor said she would be released at one pm. I tried to sleep to pass time. I failed. They gave me magazines and books and movies. I blew through two movies, three magazines, and read thirty pages of a book. Finally, it was one o’clock. There was a knock on the door, and I perked up. Han, followed by a guard, walked in. She rushed up to me and kissed me. Hard.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she whispers, and hugs me. The guard gives a knowing nod and leaves.
“I have books, movies. Want to watch one?” she nods. I show her the stack I have. We watch movie after movie after movie until two am. Her eyes droop. She leans on me. I wrap my arms around her shoulders. Her lips reach for mine, though she is a good foot shorter than me. Her lips are warm. Smooth. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around her. We lie back on my bunk and fall asleep. When I wake, she is curled against my chest. I slowly get up and change. She blinks open her eyes and clutches the covers. Stretching, Han stands up. She carries a change of clothes into the bathroom and showers. And then it hits me. What I really want. Chapstick. I run a finger over my own chapped lips. Han must’ve gotten chapstick. That was probably one of the only things I had missed on the island. I open the door and glance around. A guard stands sentry outside. He eyes me.
“No leaving the room without permission,” he says through barred teeth.
“Can I have chapstick?” I ask ignoring him.
The guard laughs, and motions to another guard pacing throughout the hall.
“Kid wants chapstick. We can do that, right?” he laughs, and the other guard nods and walks away. He comes back holding a small tube, and hands it to me. Cherry flavor. I close the door and rub it over my lips. As a child, I would always lick the chapstick for no reason. I glance around and do that now. This is the first time I’ve had decently smooth lips in months, I don’t care who sees me. Which is no one. Han comes out moments later. She glances at the chapstick in my hand, the satisfied look on my face, and laughs. Gripping the ladder of the bunk for support, she laughs harder than she has ever laughed before. I join her, sinking to my knees, back to the door. The door opens, and I hear a gravelly voice mutter, “What the hell is going on?” Immediately, I stop laughing and turn to see a mound of muscle. Latino, extremely muscular, buzz-cut black hair, green eyes, arms folded over buff chest. A mountain. I gracefully get to my feet and snap my arm in salute. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Han do the same.
“Michael Edmand,” the gravelly mountain of a man speaks. “Come with me, will you?” It is more like a command rather than a question.
Science Fiction
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