Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,105

have a broken-hearted conscience.

But what kind of life would that be? I protested to her. It was clear that Kreios didn’t really know me. Not if he thought I wanted Michael to live under some irrevocable curse.

Ellie was now at my side, a look of concern on her face. She said nothing. I was glad. I wouldn’t have known how to deal with a conversation then.

Michael stirred in his fever, muttering one word: “Kasdeja…Kasdeja…” He said it over and over.

Finally Ellie said, “I’m sorry, girlie. I think that last run-in with the Bloodstone really did a number on him.”

Yes, it had. It was all that and so much more. Michael had been carrying the load, he had been doing the heavy lifting for all of us. He never sought the limelight, never did what was best for himself, never wanted for anyone else to be too worried about him. He had kept it all to himself.

Meanwhile I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off, bouncing from one crisis to another. But he was steady. I cursed myself out loud. No. I won’t believe it’s too late. Not after all this. Not after all we’ve done, all we’ve endured. We’re almost to the finish line! I couldn’t quit now.

Kreios would know what to do. If anyone would, he would. “Ellie,” I said, “I think he needs water. I’m going to go get him some.”

She nodded. “It’s in the back there. In the cupboard.”

“All right,” I said, getting up and walking to the back. Cupboard, huh? Everything was stainless steel and latched shut against the possibility of turbulence. There was nothing to it but to go through all of them methodically. Top to bottom, left to right. I was glad for a menial task to take my mind off how badly Michael looked, how I was powerless to help him.

The smaller doors hid first aid stuff. Then there were cups, glasses, all of them crystal or sterling silver. There were napkins, plates, and so on.

Across from these my search for bottled water got colder. All that was in these cabinets was what looked like Ellie’s stash of military spec survival gear. I had opened every door on the stupid plane, I thought, until I came to one that was bigger still than all the others. Warmer. I should have started here; this looks like a fridge. And it was.

Once I released the latch and opened the door I stood back bewildered. It was stocked with every imaginable kind of chilled beverage. Plus there was cheese. Lots of it. Exotic stuff like Muenster and Camembert. The bottled water was near the bottom toward the back. I grabbed a couple bottles and made my return journey toward the nose of the plane.

I walked up to Michael and Ellie. “Here you go,” I said, offering her the bottle.

She took it. “Thanks.”

I sat back down next to Michael and tried to get him to take a sip of the cold water. Turning to Ellie, I said, “Dude. What’s with the cheese?”

She laughed. “There’s a lot of it, ain’t there? It’s a weakness. More of a hobby, really.”

“You’re really weird,” I said, and I meant it.

She took it as a joke and laughed, making us both laugh. It was a bittersweet moment. If I couldn’t laugh I knew I would start in with the waterworks; Michael looked like death.

Bishop interrupted us. “Everything okay?” he asked in his thick African accent.

Ellie answered for us. “Yes, Bishop, of course.” She smiled at him and he returned it redoubled, his pure white teeth and pure white crewman’s shirt gleaming against his deep brown skin.

“I’ve just got to make sure you people are well attended to, that’s all.” He smiled and excused himself to the rear of the plane.

When he had gone I said, “I really like that guy.”

“Oh, girlie, Africans are superb. I love them. Did you know there are ten official languages in Zed-A?”

“Ten?” I was flabbergasted.

“Yeah, most of ‘em are tribal; either Zulu or Xhosa or Sutu. Bishop is Zulu. He’s only been with me a little while, maybe four months, but I’ve been really impressed with him.”

I laughed and allowed my gaze to wander to the open door of the flight deck. I had never been allowed to look out the front of an airplane while it was flying. I looked at Michael, then at Ellie. Michael was resting, he had taken a swallow or two of the water and was no longer muttering