grass, dropping Woodman’s hand and gently lifting his cousin’s head from the bunker coat onto his lap. Woodman had lost his helmet at some point, and as Cain looked down more closely, he realized that Woodman’s mask was partially melted onto the left side of his face.
Cain gasped at the terrible sight of melted skin, fear rolling inside him, gathering, growing stronger and bigger with every passing moment. “St-stop talkin’, okay? I . . . I need you to save your strength. They’re gonna bring you some oxygen. Scott’s got the ambulance comin’ and—”
“She loves . . . you,” Woodman said softly, his green eyes searching desperately for Cain’s blue.
She. Ginger. Because in Josiah’s entire life, there had only ever been one she.
Cain’s eyes burned with tears as he tenderly stroked Josiah’s hair off the right side of his face. “No. No, she don’t. She loves you. Stop talkin’ crazy. Just hold on. They’re gonna . . . you’re gonna be just . . .”
A paramedic slid to the ground beside them and opened his field kit. He tried to put a new mask on Woodman, but Woodman groaned, “No,” and tilted his head away.
“Josiah,” sobbed Cain. “Please.” Then, “Where’s the fuckin’ ambulance at?”
The paramedic pressed his stethoscope to Woodman’s neck. He winced at whatever he heard there and slowly pulled the instrument from his ears.
“Cain . . . be . . . good . . . t’her.”
Cain caressed the skin by the burned part of Woodman’s face tenderly, but his cousin didn’t even flinch. There was no physical reaction. No pain.
“Care . . . for her.” His lungs were barely moving up and down now, and every word sounded thinner. “Love . . . her.” His voice was thready and weak, each breath wheezing and ragged. “Promise.”
Tears ran down Cain’s face in streams as the wail of an ambulance got closer. The paramedic was on one knee beside Cain, motionless, and when Cain looked up at him, the other man blinked back tears before mouthing, “I’m sorry.”
“Aw, fuck.” Cain sobbed softly, using the back of his hand to wipe his tears away.
“I don’t need to promise,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to Woodman’s forehead, his tears plopping onto his cousin’s face. He knew Woodman couldn’t see them, didn’t feel them. “You . . . you’re gonna be fine, Woodman.”
Woodman’s green eyes searched the darkness for a face he couldn’t see. A strangled sound crawled up from his throat, and black soot mixed with blood streamed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Pl-l-lease,” he murmured through the wetness.
“No!” Cain cried, clutching his cousin closer, leaning down to press his forehead to Woodman’s and willing every ounce of strength in his body into his cousin’s. Stay with me. Stay with me. Oh God, stay with me. “No! I ain’t promisin’ nothin’! Don’t you fuckin’ leave me, Josiah! You’re goin’ home to Ginger. You’re gonna be—”
“P-promise,” said Woodman, his voice less than a whisper, his lungs failing as his deep green eyes swam with tears.
“Yes!” he wailed, pressing his cheek to Woodman’s, their tears mixing where their skin touched. “I fuckin’ promise! Josiah, I promise.” He sobbed, clenching his eyes shut, his voice breaking. “I promise.”
And then, as if given permission to finally let go, whatever breath was left in Josiah Asher Woodman’s lungs escaped in a peaceful sigh, and he lay, limp and lost, in his cousin’s arms, sightless staring up at the sky.
Cain lurched up to a sitting position, and a gurgled scream rose from the depths of his being as he put his hands on Woodman’s shoulders and shook his cousin. “NO! FUCK, JOSIAH! No! No! Don’t you go. Don’t you leave me alone! No! You hang on. You fuckin’ hang on. Josiah! Josiiiiiiiiah . . . ”
His cousin’s name became a wail, a sobbed lullaby, a lament, and a terrible plea for something—for someone—who was already gone.
***
Woodman’s body was placed in the back of the ambulance, and Cain stood in his bunker coat and pants, blinking in shock as he watched it drive away into the night. He watched until the red headlights were pinpoints in the darkness, until they finally disappeared.
Fred Atkins had called Aunt Sophie and Uncle Howard to meet Woodman at the hospital. He hadn’t told them that their son was dead. That was news, apparently, that they’d receive upon arrival at All Saints. Cain ran a hand through his hair as he fully recognized the nightmare they were about to walk