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He’s so thin now I hadn’t even noticed, seeing him every second of every day, but here, while he’s asleep and flushed and delirious, I can see how lean he is I brush the damp hair back from his forehead

"I’ll be back," I murmur "Hold on"

He calls out for Sarah as I make my way back toward the ship, and it breaks my heart I’d sit with hio look for his hosts and descend into the wreck, ignoring the voice behindme to return

In the darkness, the ship is aI’ve still only found the one entry point, so every ti precious ti over the same ruined pathways I try every possible turn, and each attempt ends in a crushed floor or a dead-end rooency fire station a few hours into that first night, with a fire blanket, an ax, an extinguisher--and a handful of chelow sticks I’ve discovered that they shine steadily for about an hour and a half before they start to fade, and so I’ve been using them as timers An hour and a half, and then wherever I am, I turn back To check on him

Three hours in and back, and then I can make sure he’s not dead

I’ve lost track of howdiht of the glow sticks instead I know this particular corridor, the pattern of its destruction, by heart now I don’t need light here

To the right is the laundry roo off into dory moments to realize what it is What hope is there that, even if I can find the sick bay, there’ll be anything remotely usable?

The darkness spins, exhaustion briefly threatening to steal rab on to the wall I can’t afford to think hopelessly

I wait until the dizziness passes andthe next trip I make back to camp When I open my eyes I realize I’ve ht, last tiht ahead, into new territory

Exposed steel spars and wiring make it impossible to move without deliberation, and debris strewn about threatens to drag me down at every step I saw the Icarus diso She was round once, when she was little more than a steel fraineers But then she was new and clean, bare with unrealized potential and pronition

I try to visualize the ship I played in Did I know then what the rooms would be used for? I don’t re was? Was I ever sick?

No But Anna was For the first tiible I want to throw up Instead, a tiny flicker oflike hope

I reht Anna to the sick bay And not the astringent scent of ht, airy, clean-scented soap The laundry