“Can't.” Arron was already on his feet, rummaging through the open cupboards around the dining area. “I've got to do something.”
Lynn didn't say anything. Exhaustion bit hard into her bones. She fumbled in her pocket for one of the bean pods and looked at it without interest. She heard something ripping in the background. She ran a thumbnail around the pod's seam and split it open. The beans inside were kidney-shaped and dark, rich green.
I'm the one who likes real grown-in-the-dirt food, she reminded herself.
Trying not to grimace, she popped one in her mouth and chewed. It tasted thick, dry, and green. Better than nothing,right? She finished the other four beans in the pod. By the fourth one, it didn't taste so bad.
“What's for dinner?” Arron sat on her seeing side. He had a wad of black-and-brown cloth in his hands. He set it down. Some of it was rags, but underneath them was a loose, brown tunic that he must have found in one of the cupboards.
“Beans and more beans.” Lynn emptied her pockets, spilling pods onto the cushion.
“Better than nothing, right?” Arron made a come-here gesture. She turned her face toward him. She felt him swabbing gently at her face with the rough, dry cloth.
“I sure hope so.”
They fell silent. Lynn wanted to say something. There was so much they needed to talk about. He'd saved them, several times now. She needed to say something about that. Then, they had to plan. They had to figure out what to do when the ovrth came back, and what to do if they didn't, or if Res got sick overnight, or …
But there was nothing to plan with. They had no idea where anybody was, or what was going on around them, or up above them. They knew nothing, nothing at all.
Lynn's hands started to shake. Nothing …
“Lynn? What's wrong?”
My hands are shaking, that's what's wrong. I'm half-blind and rotting and I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!
Tears ran down her face. Deep, sick sobs dragged themselves out of her chest. Her hands shook, her chin shook, her whole torso shook with fear, exhaustion, and ignorance.
“Lynn? Lynn, come on, stop. It'll be okay.” Awkward arms embraced her. “The ovrth won't let us down, and Resaime's not that bad off … Lynn …” The pitch of his voice raised toward panic. “Come on, Lynn. We will be okay. We are okay … Don't do this to me, Lynn. I need … Please, stop …”
Lynn gasped for breath between the sobs. She held up both trembling hands. “I'll be … I'll be okay.” One deep breath. Another. A long, ragged breath. The trembling eased, and she was able to gulp down some of the tears.
“I'm sorry.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing tears and mucus across her face. Arron pressed a cloth into her hand and she held it against her cheeks. “I'm sorry.”
“ ’Sokay,” said Arron softly. “It's been an unbelievable day.”
“Yeah, that it has.” She crumpled the damp cloth in her hands. “Look, get me covered up, will you? Before Resaime comes down to find out what that god-awful noise was and sees me like this.”
Without another word, Arron picked up the rest of his cloths. He wiped down her face and pressed a new pad against her eye socket, binding it in place with long strips wrapped around her whole head. “There, that'll help.”
“Thanks. Have a bean.” She held out a pod to him.
“Thanks. The Getesaph call these chkith. They make great soup.” He split the pod open and, without any hesitation at all, popped the beans into his mouth.
They sat there on the divan, munching beans, putting the pods in a neat pile, and saying nothing. Lynn's memory flooded with all the meals they'd shared in college, all of them over endless conversations that had seemed so important at the time. Now, when it was truly important, when it was life and death, she didn't want to say anything at all.
The room grew steadily darker. Arron looked into the thickening twilight. “I didn't find anything to light a fire with,” he said. “We might as well get some sleep.” He stood up and gathered the discarded pods in a double handful. Then he walked to the stove and shoved them into the firebox.
Lynn picked up the tunic in both hands. It was damp. Black-and-grey mold speckled its surface. It smelled. She bit her lip and pulled it over her head. She couldn't travel in rags. The suit was going to fad off by tomorrow, and her shirt wasn't far behind.
Then, despite her protesting joints, she teetered over to the spiral stairway. “Res! Are you good?”
“Yes!”
She pounded the wad softly with her fist. “I'm taking your word on that!”
“Thank you!”
Lynn turned and settled back down on her divan. The moldy smell hung thick in the air. In the deepening shadows, she saw Arron right a curved sofa and toss its half-shredded cushion back in place.