“Here.” Anna passed me a box of golden french fries.
My mouth watered so much I almost drooled.
“That’s super rude, by the way!” a voice yelled behind the flower curtain. “I can smell that deliciousness all the way from my bed.”
“Sorry!” Jack yelled. “Can’t share. Don’t know what drugs you’re on.”
“I’m allowed whatever I want,” another patient yelled. “Go on, share!”
“Ah, damn, but would you look at that!” Jack shouted. “All gone. Our shipwreck survivor just inhaled every bite.”
Cracking a smile, shocked once again that I could do such a thing, I did exactly what he said.
I shoved the french fries so fast into my mouth, I choked.
“Easy,” Anna admonished. “There’s plenty more. We bought two of everything in case you hadn’t eaten in a while.”
Neri never looked away as I finished the fries in a few massive mouthfuls and raised the burger to my mouth.
I bit into it.
She grinned as I groaned.
Whatever the sauce was, it was divine.
How long had it been since I’d eaten?
A day? Two? Three?
We’d nibbled on bananas and rice balls on the long journey from Indonesia, but that was barely enough to sustain us. A full month since I’d left Turkey, first by plane, then by boat, leaving behind everything I ever knew for a reason I wasn’t told until we were at sea and unable to turn back.
No one spoke as we focused on eating.
I lost myself to chewing and swallowing, slowly feeling more and more alive with every bite.
It might’ve been a month since I’d left my home, but we’d been on the run for almost a year. A year of looking over our shoulders, hiding in earthquake-cracked villages, and relying on the kindness of strangers.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I finished my meal, and Anna passed me another burger without a word.
Her caring attentiveness reminded me of my own mother.
My mother who was now a meal herself for every creature under the sea.
My appetite fled.
I felt sick.
With trembling hands, I pushed away the unwrapped burger and shook my head. “I...I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Jack muttered, wiping his hands with a napkin. “You’ve endured something not many people have. It will take time to move past it.” Taking two soft drinks from the cardboard holder, he kept one and passed one to me.
I nodded my thanks and raised it to my lips.
I shuddered as icy sweetness hit my tongue, suffocating me, all over again, with memories of my mother’s addiction to sugary tea.
I sucked on the paper straw, my mind sinking deeper into sadness.
I couldn’t stop it.
Couldn’t swim back to the surface where these people were so incredibly kind.
Whatever lightness Neri had granted blinked out, and I sighed heavily. I cursed the crushing pressure of a sob just waiting to crawl up my throat.
I wanted them to go.
To leave so I could break in peace.
Jack sensed my unravelling composure and clasped my shoulder. “Look, you’re being kept here overnight to monitor your concussion. You’ll be warm and dry and can get some rest.” He arched his chin at the duffel he’d tossed onto the bed. “I brought you a few clothes. They might be a little big, but they’ll do for now. When you’re discharged in the morning, get the hospital to call me.” Letting me go, he pulled out a card from his wallet. A crinkled, corner-curled card with the same whale tail that hung off Neri’s necklace. His name was stamped in blue along with a phone number and an address.
“Here. Keep this safe.” He pressed it into my greasy hand. “Once you’re feeling a bit better, we’ll talk and figure out where to go from here. Sound good?”
I fisted the card.
My eyes burned hotter.
“Is there anyone in Port Douglas we can call?” he asked. “Were you travelling to family already here?”
I choked on grief, barely managing to shake my head.
Jack was perceptive and merely nodded. “Enough questions for now. We’ve filled in all your paperwork as best we can, so you don’t need to do that tonight, but there is one thing they need to know.”
I raised my heavy head, sorrow swirling thickly. That damn whirlpool was back, sucking me down, down, down. “What?” I asked stiffly. “What do you need to know?”
“Your name,” Neri said quietly.
Her voice cut through my despair, ripping my gaze to hers.
I tripped over my badly stuttering heart. “My name?”
Didn’t I tell her?
I thought I told her.
“You said it means lion...in your language.”
Her parents shared a look I didn’t like. A look with raised eyebrows and suspicious curiosity. I ought to care what they thought.
But I was exhausted and lost and the only thing keeping me from being swept out to sea on a wave of tears was her.
“Aslan,” I whispered.
“Aslan?” She licked her lips, drawing all my attention.
My broken heart gave another strange kick.
“My name is Aslan Avci, and I owe you, Nerida, for every breath that I take. From this moment, until my last moment.”
Her cheeks pinked.
Her father wrote my name on the form.
Her mother gathered up the packages from our meal.
And then...in a vortex of darkness and misery, they gave me words of comfort and goodbyes before gathering up their daughter.
They left me on that bed.
All while Neri never took her eyes off me as they dragged her away.
I felt her eyes on me long after she’d gone.
I felt her watching as I tipped to my side, drew up my knees, and lost myself to grief.
Chapter Five
*
Aslan
*
(Moon in Chinese : Yuèliàng)
“ASLAN AVCI? CAN YOU WAKE UP FOR me?”
I ripped awake, snapping upright, searching the darkness for guns and bastards.
My heart thundered for sounds of shots and screams.
Someone touched my shoulder.
I reacted the way I’d been taught.
I struck without question.
I hit before they could hit me.
An umph sounded with a pained exhale before a click and a wash of light.
I cringed away from the brightness, my head pounding and my battered body stiff from surviving.
“You’re safe. No harm will come to you. Are you awake and aware, or do I need to get reinforcements?”
Rubbing my eyes, the terror of being hunted faded. Memories of the storm overshadowed memories of home, and I slouched. Raising my head, I blinked at the pretty young nurse with dusky-olive skin and brown-black hair watching me.
She rubbed at the side of her neck, letting me know where my strike had landed.
I hung my head and dug my fingers into my throbbing head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay.”
I clenched my jaw.
That damn word again.
“You weren’t really supposed to sleep. You’re on concussion watch, but all hands were needed for an emergency. We’re a small hospital with typical staff shortages, so I apologise that no one has been around to check on you.” Dropping her arm, she consulted the forms that Jack Taylor had filled in on my behalf.