We spend the rest of the night in utter blackness.
And thankfully, after Finan is situated flat on his back, his arms over his stomach, my hand against his beating heart, we drift off. When I open my eyes again, it’s to the patter of light rain on the metal roof. Finan shivers against my legs. The shack’s walls greedily absorbed yesterday’s heat, and the interior air is musty and close, tinged with the natural chill from the exposed dirt floor. My skin aches with goose bumps and my exposed feet are numb with either cold or from sitting for so long—hard to tell. And I really, really need to pee.
With my hands unbound, I can push myself into standing. Maybe I could kick a hole in one of the walls. Texada Island is not uninhabited. I could run, find someone to help us, bring them back here
