We reach the door to Centavo’s apartment. Neca swings it open, deposits me on my feet, and disappears toward the kitchen.
I focus on the couch where I last saw Olin. He’s still lying there as if he hasn’t moved the entire time I’ve been gone. Maybe he hasn’t. As long as he moves now, as long as it’s not too late…
I kneel beside him and rest my ear on his chest.
I feel it rise. His heart beats. “Olin, it’s me, Calli.” I snatch the tiny leather pouch from my pocket. “I’ve got your medicine. It’s going to make you better.” It has to make you better.
I slip my hand behind his head and lift him up to ensure every drop runs down his throat. I remove the cork, place my nose over the opening and sniff. The odor adds to my dizziness. I steady myself using the couch.
Worried I’m going to pass out, I focus on Olin’s mouth. I push down his chin and slowly pour half the green liquid. I wait for his involuntary muscles to take over. After he swallows, I pour the other half. “Listen to my voice, and find your way back to me.”
Finished in the kitchen, Neca takes a knee beside me. “Anything?”
I shake my head. “I know you can do this, Olintl. I’m right here. Just open your eyes.” I rest my forehead on his chest. I need you, you little brat. You can’t leave me.
“Maybe it takes a few minutes.” Neca wraps his arm around me. “I’ve got something to treat your foot.”
I don’t answer. Gently, he tugs off the dirty bandage and brushes something on the cut. It burns, but I feel it secondhand.
I’ve never been one to ask for much. Not from people. Certainly not from gods. And yet, lost in prayer, I’m asking for this. Give me back my brother.
Suddenly, Olin jerks to life. Bolting upright, he tosses me backwards.
“Olin, it’s me. You’re safe.” I want to feel relief. I’ve done it. My Olintl is back. But the expression on my little brother’s face frightens me more than his lack of consciousness. He looks me straight in the eyes and shakes his head. “We’re not safe. Not while he’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” Neca asks.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re together.” I sit up and wrap my arms around Olin’s shoulders. “We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
Olin stands, lifting me with him. He feels strong, healthy, like nothing ever happened.
“It’s too late, he’s here,” Olin says. Before I can ask who, three loud raps nearly break down the door. As if reading my thoughts, Olin responds, “The general.”
END of Episode Two
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