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66% Island Of The Dead / Chapter 66: NIGHT THOUGHTS

Bab 66: NIGHT THOUGHTS

'HEY, YOU OKAY?' Even though Sam's voice was soft, Jin still jumped, her head twisting around sharply. In the moonlight, he could see the silvery gleam of tears on her cheeks, but he had already been aware of how upset she was; it was her crying that had woken him.

He was surprised the sound had penetrated his unconscious mind. He had been so tired when he had finally crashed out on a reed sleeping mat that he had thought it would take an earthquake at the very least to drag him out of his slumber. He guessed he had been more subconsciously alert than he had realized – must be a survival thing, he thought, something he had developed without knowing it over the past couple of days. He raised his hands slowly to show his intentions were harmless. When Jin didn't reply, he murmured, 'It's just … I heard you crying. Thought I'd come see if I could do anything.'

Jin sniffed, hitched in a breath. In a small cracked voice, she said, 'Sorry I woke you.'

'Hey, no problem,' said Sam. 'My back was kind of aching anyway. That mat's not exactly big on the spinal support.'

This wasn't true, but Sam didn't want to make her feel any worse than she already did. When she remained silent, he glanced beyond her at the night sky. Unlike in the cities he was used to, the stars out here were incredibly bright, and the sky too was a deep, rich velvety blue, undiluted by the sodium glare from street lamps and neon signs.

'Beautiful night,' he said.

Jin made no comment.

'Hey, you want a soda or something? I'm kinda thirsty. And Mowen said we could help ourselves.'

For a moment he was sure Jin would refuse, and then she gave a small tight nod. Sam re-entered the house and made his way through to the kitchen, the polished wooden floor pleasantly cool on the soles of his bare feet. Mowen's house was spacious and surprisingly homely. There were brightly colored rugs on the floor and tribal art framed on the walls. The trader – Sam was convinced that some of that trade involved drugs and guns, as well as various other ill-gotten gains – obviously made a good living out of what he did. His house was one of the biggest in the village, and one of a minority that even had electricity. Although Sam wouldn't exactly have trusted Mowen, the guy had proved a congenial enough host. No doubt motivated by the hefty financial recompense Ryder White had promised him, he had given all five of them a place to sleep, and had even cooked them a meal – a rice and sausage concoction that reminded Sam of the jambalaya his mom made for him whenever he went home.

Entering the kitchen, he didn't bother turning on the light. Although everyone else was upstairs, he didn't want to risk waking them. He grabbed a couple of Cokes from the fridge and padded back through the house to the room where he had been sleeping. He crossed the room and slipped through the screen door onto the front porch. Jin was still sitting out on the wooden steps, a frail hunched shape in the darkness.

'Here you go,' Sam said, holding the can out to her.

She took it. 'Thanks.'

Sam indicated a space next to her on the steps. 'Mind if I sit down?'

She shrugged, and he sat, popping open his can with a hiss. He gulped at the fizzy soda for a moment, relishing the sweetness, the way it made him feel instantly more alive.

'That's good,' he said, glancing at Jin, who was drinking from her own can in tiny sips.

Behind them, moths the size of hummingbirds batted their plump dusty bodies against the softly buzzing porch light.


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