Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
New plan: must eat Ordus.
17
Cindi
My skin is only getting paler. Dryer. My body weaker. The pounding in my head is worse. I can barely keep my eyes open. The only thing I’m capable of is sleeping.
I shouldn’t have spent so long in the sun yesterday. Sweating and burning has made it worse.
Ordus keeps trying to bait a reaction out of me, probably thinking it’ll keep me alive. All I can muster is a faint mumble before turning over, clutching my stomach, and letting my eyes drift shut.
There’s only one thing I’ve asked for: to be taken back to the mainland.
The two coconuts I’ve had since being here have only worked to prolong the inevitable.
Ordus’ selfishness will kill me, and I think he’s starting to realize that. In the short moments of consciousness, I can feel his frantic energy as he moves around the cave, trying to get me to eat or drink things that will only make me worse. I’m cradled in his limbs more often than not and have woken up to gentle poking and prodding more times than I can count.
I jar awake when cool water engulfs my body. I whimper from the shock, curling up against Ordus’ warm, hard torso. Peeling my heavy lids open, all I can make out is the glowing algae and Vasz watching me from his corner.
“Shh, Cindi. I have you,” he whispers, lowering us into the pool.
My head is plunged beneath the water’s surface. Oxygen slams back into my lungs before I can panic. The giant air bubble is the last thing I see before I succumb to sleep again, drifting in and out of consciousness, waking only when a gust of wind slams into my face. I sputter a cough, shivering against a warm body as I force my eyes to open against the weight of exhaustion. I can’t feel my fingers and toes.
How long was I out for?
Water crashes against my face. I gasp, swallowing saltwater and whimpering, squeezing my eyes shut against the harsh moonlight.
A roaring sounds in my ear.
Is that my pulse?
I force my eyes open again.
Not my pulse. A beach. It looks familiar, but I can’t pinpoint from where. I can barely think beyond the stabbing pain in my head.
I blink, and the sea shifts to sand.
Blink, and it’s dirt.
Another, and palm leaves hang overhead.
Once more, and suddenly, there’s a beeping sound.
I groan, twisting my head to the side. Someone says something, but I can’t make out their words. The world turns, and a ringing noise starts in my ears from trying to make sense of my surroundings in the darkness.
Tile floors. A dismantled battery generator on the coffee table. Laundry on the couch. Dishes on the kitchen bench. A screwdriver and a bottle of glue beside an upside-down chair. Pliers above the microwave, next to a container full of different pills. A rug with one corner burned. The unplugged speakers around the TV.
Ordus brought me back.
I’m so happy, I could cry.
Adrenaline surges through my veins, filling me with energy I haven’t had in however long. I point to the fridge, mouth refusing to work.
The world spins and sways as he rushes over to it. I wriggle in his grip, wordlessly ordering him to set me down. He keeps saying things I can’t make sense of, but eventually, he relents, keeping me upright with tentacles wrapped around my body. I fumble for the fridge door. It takes three tries to get it open, and I don’t think it was me who did it.
The blast of cold air pushes me closer to consciousness. The only reason I don’t surge for the big bottle of
Pocari Sweat is because Ordus changes my movements to a gentle reach by manipulating my body.
I grip the cap with my trembling hands, struggling to get it open. When Ordus takes it from me, I whimper, desperate to do anything for even a drop.
As soon as he hands it to me, I bring it to my lips and greedily gulp the sweet beverage without regard to the cramps piercing my stomach. Liquid streams from the corners of my lips down to my collarbones, mixing in with the saltwater trickling from my matted hair.
I don’t stop until I’m sputtering on the floor, coughing up a storm that rattles my bones. The bottle clatters across the kitchen as I heave for breath. Dark spots swim in my vision, fatigue sinking into my marrow.
More.
That can’t possibly be enough to replenish me.
I scramble through the fridge for another bottle of anything with electrolytes. I only manage two more gulps before I’m hacking it up on the tile like Vasz does when he chases the waves.
I’m distantly aware of the hand caressing my back. For a second, it belongs to Tommy, not the ten-foot monster who had me trapped on an island in the middle of nowhere. But the instant the thought takes hold, that purr starts up, deep in Ordus’ chest, that has my body relaxing for reasons I can’t begin to explain.
This time, when I move, I’m not buzzing with frantic energy. I grab the leftover nasi goreng and sate ayam and spoon the rice and chicken combo into my mouth with my pruning fingers. My stomach growls at the fifth mouthful, and I lurch to the side, feeling everything I’ve consumed rush up my chest.
Fuck, maybe I should have gone easy.
I pant as I keel onto my side to lean against the kitchen cupboard. My eyes drift shut in my concentration to keep the contents of my stomach on the inside of my body. Carbs, protein, and electrolytes. Surely, that’s what doctors recommend. It’s the best I’ve got, since I doubt Ordus will be escorting me to a hospital to get IV’d anytime soon.
When I finally have the energy to reopen my eyes, morning light streams through the slits of boards on the other side of my bedroom window.
My brows furrow. How did I get in here?
How long was I asleep?
I groan as I push myself up on the mattress. The pounding in my head isn’t as bad, but it’s still there, a constant irritant that makes the light stab into my eyes like I’m being lobotomized.
The room is the same haphazard mess I left it in; a suitcase ready to go next to my emergency “fuck-off” bag. The newest addition to my place is the sprawling tentacles between me and my escape, plus a shark-dog rolling around my rug with a coconut husk in his mouth.
I won’t delude myself into thinking I’ll be able to outrun him. I couldn’t at full capacity, and I sure as shit can’t when the grim reaper is picking his nails, waiting for me to kick the bucket.
Now, I somehow need to convince a literal monster staying here is a good idea.
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