cucumber, it would probably be him.
“It’s going to be sunrise soon,” Quin said. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes,” said Matheus. He felt as though a coil of rope emerged from the center of his chest, the end attached to a winch turning faster as the day approached. Matheus rubbed his palm over his sternum. The sensation grew to the point of physical pain, only five or ten minutes before sunrise. He inched forward, stretching out his legs and folding his arms behind his head. The ceiling of the van had escaped the purge, although long rips marred the plush fabric. Matheus imagined that not everyone captured by the hunters had his and Quin’s docility.
“Quin?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Why did I go all twitchy when you got hurt?”
“You’re mine,” Quin said as though that explained everything. He mimicked Matheus’ pose, his feet crossed neatly at the ankles beside Matheus’ head.
“So?”
“So, I claimed you.”
“That statement is not disturbing at all,” Matheus said, rolling his eyes.
Quin waved his hand, making the same slashing gesture Matheus had noticed earlier. The movement seemed to be shorthand for
I’m thinking
or
I don’t know
or even
why the hell do you care?
“We’re connected,” he said. “I’ll always be able to find you. I’ll know when you’re hurt, if you need help.”
“So, why could I find you?”
“Apparently it works both ways.”
“Apparently?”
“Well,” said Quin. “I’ve never claimed anyone before.”
“Fantastic,” said Matheus. “It’ll be an exciting adventure for the both of us.”
The numbness that the heralded the day moved through his limbs. Matheus didn’t feel tired; what occurred during the day couldn’t be considered sleep. He thought of switching off his laptop; one by one, his processes shut down. Daybreak threatened, only seconds away. As soon as the sun appeared over the horizon, whatever magic animated Matheus would cease to work and he would die. He tried to push the thought away, but kept circling back, fascinated and repulsed at the same time. Matheus wondered if he would ever get used to being a corpse for twelve hours each day.
“How do you know they won’t kill us while we’re…while we’re asleep?” he asked, his vocabulary failing him yet again. Despite the broad reaches of the English language, the concept of
temporarily dead
hadn’t arisen often enough to merit a new word. At least, not one Matheus had come across.
“That would go against the rules of the hunt,” Quin said. “They’ll keep us safe until sunset tonight. After that, we’re on our own.” He laid his head back, closing his eyes. “Sunrise.”
Matheus didn’t respond. The day had already taken him.
Matheus pretended to be asleep. Or rather, he played dead. He’d been awake for close to twenty minutes, listening to Quin get up and unlatch the doors. The van shook as Quin jumped down, leaving the doors wide open. The fresh air carried the smell of damp earth and musty evergreens. Quin’s footsteps crunched as he circled the van, before reaching inside to slap Matheus on the shin.
“Time to get up, Sunshine,” he said.
Apparently, Matheus had not been as stealthy as he had thought. He opened his eyes, propping himself up onto his elbows.
Quin stood in the clearing outside, scanning the forest. Matheus could see the track the van had taken, an old logging road grown over with grass, only two muddy ruts left behind. Thick ferns covered the ground into the woods. The logging company must have abandoned the site years earlier or never harvested the area. Trees crowded around the clearing. Large canopies of orange and red leaves formed a dome over the tiny clearing, the night sky peeping through. Pine trees, branches poking out of the trunks like a sea urchin’s spines, mingled with the other trees. Matheus eyed the spikes and wondered if running around in a place full of pointy, wooden things was not the best idea ever.
“I hate
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