supports my head, and fingers are brushing the hair from my sweaty forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Bowen says.
I look up at him. “No. It’s my fault for being stupid. I shouldn’t have used the glass—”
“Fo,” Bowen snaps, silencing me. “I’m not sorry the coagulant hurt your hand. You totally deserved it. But I’m sorry about what I said. About being stuck with you.”
Sunshine spreads through my body. I sit up and beam at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really. Aside from you being my potential—and most likely, terribly painful—death, you’re not that bad.” He smiles and I feel like I could float away. Without asking, he takes my injured hand and wraps it with stretchy tape.
“No showering for twenty-four hours,” he warns.
My eyes grow round and I lean toward him. “Is there a shower here?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “It was a joke.” A hot breeze stirs the air, and Bowen shuts his eyes. “Maybe we should sleep up here tonight. It’s a lot cooler than downstairs. And with the cover of darkness … I’ll grab our stuff.”
He stands. I watch him go, then make my way to the west windows in time to see the sun disappear behind distant mountains. Shadows creep into the world, filling every corner and hollow. And one shadow on the street below moves. I crouch down for a better look.
The shadow crouches, too, and for a moment I wonder if it has seen me. But then it picks something up from the ground. Something pale and limp. The bottom half of my pants.
Chapter 18
I wake to the sound of a motor, and my eyes flutter open in confusion. The motor is right above me. Vibrations shatter the still morning. I lift my head in search of its source.
“No! Don’t move!” Bowen whispers, pressing on my shoulder. “Look.” He nods toward my cuffed and restrained ankles. Slowly I lift my head again and peer down the length of my body.
Above my stomach hovers a tiny bird, inspecting the crimson stain on my shirt. Its wings drone like a motor and I am filled with awe. This fragile hummingbird is the first living, wild animal I have seen since waking up in this dead world. Its bright-green chest and red-capped head are startlingly out of place.
“Where’d it come from?” I whisper, unable to take my eyes from it.
“The wall. There are hundreds of hummingbirds living inside of it. Every once in a while one gets out. It thinks your blood is a flower. It’s probably on the verge of starving to death.”
The hummingbird, realizing my shirt isn’t a flower, darts away, sweeping through an empty window and leaving the morning disturbingly silent.
Bowen points the remote at me, and my ankles release. I stretch my legs and think about going back to sleep.
After a moment, I hear another sound, reminiscent of the sound of a distant hoe scraping dirt. I open my eyes and look at Bowen—the source of the sound. A gleaming knife glides along his jaw line, scraping a thin lather of white foam and dark stubble from his skin. The scent of pine floats on the air. I stare, entranced, as he scrapes all the cream off, and when he is done, his smooth face looks thirteen again. Almost.
“Here.” Bowen holds a water bottle out to me. I sit up, open it, and take a long drink. He smirks. “That’s for you shirt, Fotard. You need to wash the blood out of it.”
I open my mouth to ask him why, but before the words leave my tongue, he says, “Blood draws beasts—the smell.”
“Oh.” Horrified, I pull off my shirt. Bowen’s smirk disappears, and his freshly shaved cheeks turn a shade pinker. He turns his back as if he’s never seen me with just the binding that wraps my chest, as if the sight of me will make him go blind. “Bowen, I’ve still got the rags binding my … never mind.” I turn the other way, hoping the back of my neck isn’t as hot as it feels, and put my shirt on the ground. Pouring water on the blood, I start rubbing the fabric against itself. I pour more water and rub more, but the blood doesn’t come out.
“I need soap or bleach,” I say over my shoulder.
“I don’t have any. Just give it a good rinse for now.” Bowen’s feet scrape on the ground, and he gasps. I turn and look up at him, every muscle in my body tensed for something bad. His eyes are