In the Panther's Wake

Chapter 33

Markus collapses to the ground panting and heaving. I squat beside him and put the back of my hand on his forehead. It's moist and hot; even in the cold desert night. I inspect his leg, pressing gently on the swelling. He groans and I pull my hand away. It's gotten worse. I can even make out the dark blotches of bruising, clear in the evening darkness against his drained, white skin.

That's what worries me though, the fever in his mind is what's killing him, not the pain. I inspect his face as he lies on his back, eyes closed. I search for sores and blisters; like the ones the soldier had—the one my father was looking after. The skin is dry, scratched and torn around the eyes from sand and wind, but there are no signs of the sickness on his face, other than the paleness. Not yet anyway.

I try to think back, counting how many days it's been since we were there, with our father at the train yard. I count at least five days, though it's hard to say—we've barely slept, and each day just passes into the next, one horror after the other. I'm sure it can't be the juice, otherwise I'd be suffering too. The sickness, I don't know enough about it—what signs to look for. My father said the soldier had been ill for about a week. Markus is close, maybe the sores are coming soon. I choke back tears, kneeling there at my brother's side.

**

He opens his eyes and squints at me. "I'm sorry, little brother—for everything." Tears dribble down to his ears as he watches the sky, coughing and struggling for air.

"Stop saying that, Markus. It's not over yet."

He looks at me and shakes his head gently, "It is, Bandi. Look at where we are, I can barely move. We have nothing—no water, no food. When the sun comes out it'll kill us, if we make it through the night."

I stare at him, feeling my own eyes filling up, but I shake my head, refusing to listen.

"Do you think you have it, the sickness?" I ask.

He just continues to stare at the stars, ignoring me. "I wonder if we still get to go up there, when we die."

He goes silent, and I watch the sparkling dots with him, alight so far away. Maybe soon we'll be there, with our father and our mother. At least finally we'll be together again.

Markus rolls onto one side.

"What is it?" I whisper.

He starts to shake, crying achy tears, his sobs drifting far in the silence. "It's all my fault. All of this. Everything that happened is because of me..."

He cries and cries.

I put my hand on his arm, "Of course it's not, don't say that."

"You don't even know! I dragged you all this way, and you don't even know!"

"What are you talking about? You didn't drag me anywhere. We made it this far together. We're still alive because of each other."

Markus finally turns and looks at me strangely. The blue in his eyes is invisible. They're black and empty. Unease rises through me as I wait for his next words.

"If it wasn't for me, we'd all be alive..." His voice trails off as he turns away, unable to look at me any longer.

"That's not true! You saved me from the fall, you dragged me up when the soldier knocked me down—you came back for me, again and again. We escaped savage dogs, lions, caves of fire. We've been captured and escaped, passed through hordes of soldiers time and time again. We only made it this far because we're together. Markus, you saved me, over and over again!"