The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 73: Finn

I dream of the wild lands.

I dream about the towering green forests that used to span continents, the restless, untamed deserts with their shifting dunes, and the ocean; so clear and bright and blue that it looked like a reflection of the sky. I dream about air as crisp and fresh as glacial ice, about billowing, gusting winds, about rain so pure you can drink it, straight from the clouds. I dream of a planet without humans, and its fierce beauty.

I dream of the kraken, and what it means. To me. To the world. And to the future.

And then I wake up.

I'm in the Med Cabin, lying on a cot covered in scratchy white sheets. As far as I can tell, the only other person in the room besides me is Ronan Lockwood, who's slouched half-asleep next to my bed in a chair that looks like it was stolen from the Mess Hall. His chin is propped up by his hand and he's staring dully out the window, his black eyes blank reflections of the night sky outside. Hours must have passed if it's finally dark outside. He appears lost in thought; caught up in something a thousand miles away.

"Hey, asshole," I say hoarsely.

Ronan jerks around to face me so quickly that he nearly tumbles off his chair. A thousand different emotions swarm across his face before he shunts them to the side, until only in his voice can I hear the feelings he's suppressing: "Oh, God. You're alive!"

I blink my eyes at him, just to make sure that this isn't some crazy hallucination. Ronan, sitting by my sick bed in the Med Cabin? This is almost more shocking than finding a kraken in the lake. I was expecting Ronan to be back at the cabin, relishing in the fact that he finally has the entire room to himself— not here, worrying about me. It's concerning.

"I didn't take you for a nurse," I tell him.

Ronan gives me an incredulous look. Then, he starts cracking up.

And, a bit incredulous myself, I find myself laughing, too.

"Finn, you are such a piece of shit. I sit here for five hours, not sure when you're going to wake up, or if you're going to wake up at all, and the first thing you do when you wake up is make a fucking wisecrack. Jesus Christ. I should have known better...."

Ronan shakes his head slowly. Now that the hysterical laughter has faded away, he's shrinking back into the pale, scared boy he was before. The brief burst of humor fades away into seriousness as we both contemplate the full weight of the situation.

"What time is it?" I ask, after a long pause.

"Almost three in the morning."

"It must have been bad if you sat here for five hours."

"Oh, it was bad. I've never seen Sybil so upset before—" The mention of the Director's first name makes me wince involuntarily, and before I know it, Ronan is launching into one of his tirades. "Shit, Finn, are you kidding me? You just took down a gun-wielding counselor and a kraken, and you're still afraid of the Director's real name? Dear God, get your shit together."

"She's scary," I say defensively.

"So is watching one of your friends almost die in front of you!" I realize that Ronan's voice is trembling slightly. His hands are, too, until he folds them together so tightly I can see his knuckles crackle with white. "The blood was the worst part. There was so much of it. We thought you'd been shot."

"Owen didn't shoot me."

"I know that now, you fucking moron. When you staggered out of the water and collapsed on the beach, we had to make some assumptions. We didn't figure out that it was the kraken's blood until the later. You barely had a scratch on you—"