Ferryman (16 page)

Eventually sun-rays blasted through the window, causing the dust that swirled around in the air to shimmer gold in the light. Tristan was the first to stir. He did not want to face today. He thought about what he had promised Dylan, and unease churned in his stomach. His mind battled with what was possible, what was right, and what he wanted. None of them could coexist together.

Dylan, on the other hand, was surprisingly calm. She had spent much of the night thinking about what might be coming today and had reached the conclusion that there was little she could do but take the final steps and see where they led her. Tristan would be with her. That was enough. She could take everything and anything else so long as he stood by her. And he would. He had promised.

“
R
eady for the final bit of the journey?” Tristan asked, forcing humour into his voice. They were standing outside the cottage, preparing to go.

“Yeah,” Dylan replied, smiling tightly. “Where do we go?”

“This way.” Tristan began to walk around the cottage, away from the lake. Dylan took one last look at the water. Today it seemed calm and peaceful, the surface gently rippling, causing sparkles where the sun tickled the tiny wave-crests. She remembered the horrors that lurked beneath and shuddered, racing after Tristan as if she could leave the bad memories behind. He had paused on the other side of the cottage, waiting for her. He stood casually, staring into the distance with one hand up at his forehead, shading the glare from the sun.

“See that?” Dylan looked in the direction that Tristan was gazing. The landscape was flat and bare. A small stream trickled its way towards the horizon, snaking lazily away from them. On the left side of the stream, a path wound parallel to the water and, besides a few bushes, there was nothing else to see. Dylan raised one eyebrow, puzzled. “Er, nope.”

Her tone made him turn to face her. He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Look harder.”

“Tristan, there’s nothing there. What am I supposed to be looking for?”

He sighed at her, but Dylan could tell he was enjoying feeling superior. He moved behind her and leaned over her shoulder. His breath tickled her neck, setting her skin on fire.

“Look at the horizon.” He pointed straight in front of her. “Can you see that shimmer?”

Dylan squinted. The horizon was very far away. She could kind of make out a bit of a glow where the land met the blue sky, but it could easily be a trick of the light, or just the fact that she was trying to see something.

“Not really,” she answered honestly.

“Well, that’s where we’re heading. It’s a join between the wasteland and… beyond.”

“Oh,” she said. “And then what happens?”

He shrugged. “I told you, I’ve never been. This has always been as far as I’ve gone.”

“I know, but what have you seen? I mean, is it like stairway to heaven or something?”

He looked at her incredulously. When he spoke he was clearly holding back laughter.

“You think an enormous escalator descends from the sky?”

“Well I don’t know,” she huffed, embarrassed and covering it with anger.

“Sorry,” he added, smiling sheepishly. “They just disappear. That’s it. They take a step, and disappear.”

Dylan wrinkled her nose. She could tell that he was speaking the truth, but it wasn’t very helpful.

“Come on, we’ve got to get started,” Tristan gave her a little push in the back to get her moving. She looked at the horizon again, straining her eyes at the so-called shimmer. Could she see it? It was hard to tell. It was, however, giving her a headache so she gave up and settled for gazing moodily at the path in front of them. It looked far. Not up hill, at least, but far.

“As it’s the last day,” she started hopefully.

“I am not giving you a piggy-back,” Tristan answered quickly, not even letting her finish the sentence. He overtook her slouching pace, striding off ahead. Grumbling, Dylan stomped after him.

“You know, I almost drowned yesterday,” she continued, sure that he wouldn’t relent and carry her, but miserable at the thought of marching all the way across the plain. And the drowning had taken a lot out of her. Her legs were stiff, and her chest ached. Her throat was raw from vomiting up the water and the constant coughing to clear her lungs.

He looked back at her, a strange expression on his face, but then turned and kept on walking.

“Okay, so I probably wouldn’t have died, given that I’m already dead, but it was very traumatic.”

This time he did stop, but didn’t turn. Dylan caught him in three strides but held back. Something about his posture made her wary.

“Yes you would have,” it was a whisper but it carried far enough to reach her ears.

“What?” she asked sharply. He looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and turned to face her.

“You would have died.”

Each word was spoken slowly and clearly, and each stabbed straight into Dylan’s brain.

“I could have died, again?” she asked, confused. Surely dead was dead?

He nodded.

“But how? Where would I have gone? I don’t…” Dylan tailed off.

“You can die here. Your soul, I mean. When you’re alive it’s protected by your body. When you die, you lose that. You’re vulnerable.”

“And if your soul dies?”

“You’re gone,” he said simply.

Dylan stared off into space, aghast at how close she had come to oblivion. She had taken her body’s death without too much complaining because, well, she’d still been here. To know that she might have disappeared, have lost the chance to meet the people she was counting on seeing again, shocked her into silence.

“Come on. I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to stop, we need to move. There are no more safe houses, Dylan.”

Hearing him speak her name jolted her out of her trance.

“Right,” she muttered. Without looking at him, she marched forward. Although her limbs ached and she felt exhausted, she did not want to be caught out here in the dark. Tristan watched her walk away. Her head was held high and she walked swiftly, but there was a limp to her gait, and she rubbed her throat absent-mindedly. He knew she must be suffering after yesterday’s trauma.

“Hold on,” he called, jogging over to her. She paused and turned, waiting for him. He didn’t stop when he reached her, but took another step so that he was just in front of her. He smiled, then turned his back to her.

“Jump up.”

“What?”

He turned and rolled his eyes at her. “Jump. Up.”

“Oh.” Dylan’s face lit up with relief. She grabbed hold of his shoulders and jumped, circling his waist with her legs and wrapping her arms around his neck. He hooked his arms under her knees and began to trudge forward.

“Thank you!” she breathed into his ear.

“It’s only because you’re so pitiful,” he joked.

He took long, powerful strides that gently jostled Dylan with every footfall. Very quickly, she became stiff and uncomfortable on his back. Her arms were pained holding on to his shoulders and his arms under her knees were bruising her. Still, it was much better than walking. She tried to relax her muscles, and concentrated on revelling in being so close to Tristan. His shoulders were broad and strong, and he handled the burden of her extra weight as if she were made of feathers. Her face was tucked into the crook of his neck, and she inhaled deeply, savouring the musky smell of him. His sandy hair bobbed as he walked and tickled her cheek. She fought an urge to run her fingers through it.

“When we get there,” he said, startling her, “you’ll have to get down and walk yourself.”

Her grip tightened compulsively. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I am,” he answered at once, “but you have to take the steps yourself. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Can’t you go first?” she asked hesitantly.

“No. You can’t go through to the next world following someone else; you’ve got to take the step yourself. It’s a thing,” he added, as if that explained it.

“But you’ll be right behind me?” she asked, nervous.

“I promise. I said I would.”

“Tristan,” she squeaked, her voice suddenly excited. “I can see it!”

About half a mile in front of them, the air seemed to change. The ground beyond it looked exactly the same as that before, but strangely distorted, as if there were a transparent screen in front of it. The point on the ground where the screen met the earth did indeed seem to shimmer slightly. Dylan felt her stomach tighten as she stared at it. They were there.

“Put me down,” she whispered.

“What?”

“I want to walk.”

Tristan let go of her legs and she slithered down his back to the ground. Pins and needles stung her feet and lower legs, and she stretched out her arms. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to face the end of her journey. Without looking at him, she began to walk forward.

Her heart was racing, thudding wildly in her chest. She felt adrenaline course through her veins. Although her arms and legs had been aching, they now felt as if they did not belong to her, and she was not entirely in control of them. Taking deep, even breaths, she tried to concentrate on not hyperventilating. The ground seemed to fly beneath her feet. It was little more than a hundred metres away now. As they got closer, it became easier to see the join between the two worlds. The world beyond the point was just slightly out of focus, like she was looking at it through someone else’s glasses. It was beginning to make her slightly dizzy so she tried to look straight at the floor, occasionally glancing up to the shimmering line across the path.

Tristan watched her with careful eyes. Although she did not look at or speak to him, he had the feeling that she was very aware of his movements. He deliberately kept one step behind her. When she got to within five metres of the line, she halted. She stared at it, breathing evenly. Her face was drawn, her mouth tight. He could read her stress in every muscle in her body.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She turned towards him and her eyes were wild. He had thought she was in control but inside she was clearly petrified.

He was not quite correct. There were emotions running crazily through her body that she had never experienced before.

The tension of the moment had brought several things to the forefront of her mind, sharpened her focus on the things that really mattered. She did not know what was on the other side of that line and, even though he had promised to follow her, there was something that she had to say.

Although the idea terrified her, and she knew by saying it she was making herself more emotionally vulnerable than she had ever been in her life, she was determined. The past few days had taught her a lot about herself; she was not the same girl who had dithered over packing her teddy bear. She was stronger, braver. She’d faced danger; confronted her fears, and Tristan had played a massive part in that. He had protected her, comforted her, guided her, and opened her eyes to feelings she hadn’t known existed. It was important to tell him how she felt, even though it made her stomach flutter and her cheeks burn. Just do it, she told herself.

“I love you.”

Her eyes never left his face, trying to read his reaction. The words seemed to hang in the air between them. Dylan’s every nerve was tingling and alert, her hormones thudding through her veins. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but she hadn’t known how to broach the subject and she needed to say it. She continued to look at Tristan, waiting for a smile or a frown, for his eyes to shine or freeze, but his face was impassive. Her pulse, instead of racing, was beating in a disjointed pattern that made her fear that it might stop. As the silence lengthened, she began to shake, her body preparing for rejection.

He didn’t feel the same way. Of course he didn’t. She was just a child. She had read what she’d wanted to into his words and his touch. Her eyes began to sting as tears fought their way to the surface. She gritted her teeth, determined to keep control. Her fingers curled into fists and squeezed tightly, the nails digging into her palms painfully. It wasn’t enough. The pain in her chest was agony, like burning knives piercing her right in the centre. It rode over every other sensation and made it hard to breath.

Tristan stared back at her, battling with himself. He loved her too; he knew it in every fibre of his being. What he did not know was whether he should tell her so. Seconds passed and still he couldn’t decide. He saw her eyes widen, and heard her breathing become ragged, and knew that she was taking the worst possible meaning from his silence. She believed he did not love her. He closed his eyes, trying to get some perspective. If she thought he didn’t love her, perhaps she wouldn’t hurt so much at the end. Perhaps it would be easier. It was right to say nothing. His mind made up, he opened his eyes and stared into a sea of sparkling green.

No. Her pain, hurt, rejection… it could not be her final memory of him. He had to give her this one truth, whatever it cost them both. Frightened that his voice would shake, he opened his mouth.

“I love you too, Dylan.”

She gazed at him for a moment, frozen in time. Her heart beat triumphantly as she processed his words. He loved her. She exhaled in a half-laugh, and broke into a grin, her eyes dancing. The pain in her chest melted away, replaced by a soft glow that crept up her throat and shone out of her smile. Taking a cautious step forward, she moved to him. She could feel his breath on her face; it, too, was coming in gasps. His eyes burned blue, penetrating into her very core and making her tremble slightly. She leaned up to him, close enough to see each freckle that patterned his nose and cheeks, then stopped.

“Wait,” she said, drawing back. “Kiss me on the other side.”

But Tristan’s hand was suddenly wrapped around hers, his grip vice-like. “No,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Now.”

With one hand he pulled her in closer to his body, with the other he cupped the back of her neck, sliding his fingers into her hair. Chills erupted over Dylan’s skin and her half-hearted protest died in her throat. His thumb stroked up and down the nape of her neck and she watched unblinking as his face dropped lower until his forehead rested against hers. He was close enough for their breath to intermingle, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. He closed the final distance between them, dropping his grip on her hand and her neck and folding his arms around her back, pulling her nearer still. Tilting her head back a fraction, Dylan closed her eyes and waited.

Tristan hesitated. Freed from the depth of her forest green eyes, doubts crept back into his mind. This was wrong. This was not allowed. Every feeling he had for her was wrong, though. He shouldn’t be able to feel this way; it wasn’t supposed to be possible. But he did. And this was going to be his only chance to experience the wonder that humans lived for, killed for. Letting his eyes slide closed, he pressed his lips against Dylan’s.