There was no one there. The door to the bathroom was closed.
Total mindfuck.
I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a towel around me. It was a bit too small and barely covered my rack but it would have to do. I looked around the tub for her but I was alone in the room. The clothes on the floor looked undisturbed. The window was open only a crack and a hot, sweet-smelling breeze was blowing through in mild bursts. Did I really hear Sarah? Or was I imagining things? I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, trying to get the clarity I had back on that open mesa.
A knock at the door.
I yelped despite myself, my wet hair flinging water droplets around the room.
“It’s Dex,” I heard him mumble from the other side. The handle jiggled.
Heart in my throat, I cautiously opened it. Indeed, Dex was standing outside the door, a first aid kit in his hand. He looked wary of me until his eyes drifted onto my chest and legs, on display courtesy of the bathmat-sized towel.
“Hello there,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
I didn’t give into the embarrassment of him seeing me half-naked.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“I just got here,” he said, still staring at my chest.
I rolled my eyes and reached over, pushing at his forehead until he was looking me in the eyes.
“Did you see just see Sarah leave?”
He shook his head. “Why?”
I closed my eyes, feeling worse. “Nevermind.”
I started to close the door on him but he stuck his hand out and stopped it. “Nuh uh.”
He pushed his way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “You need some attending.”
“Oh yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you,” I sniped.
He sighed as he opened the kit and spread it out on the standalone sink. “Actually I’d like it if you were being the sexy nurse, not me.”
He opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and splashed it on sheets of gauze and held it above my arm, warning me, “This is going to sting, probably.”
“Can’t be worse than your tongue.”
“Ha,” he said and pressed the gauze forcefully into my arm. I flinched. It burned like a motherfucker.
He took the pad and, more gentle this time, pressed it further down my arm, dabbing it on each cut. His brow was furrowed intensely as he worked. It was vaguely charming to see him doting on me.
After he worked his way down, he lightly stroked the tops of my forearms where the crow’s talons had scratched away. The hair on my arms rose in response. Only this time not in fear. His fingers felt nice.
He slowed them and raised his brow at me, eyebrow ring glinting. “Did the crow do this?”
I nodded and turned over my hands, opening the palms.
He held the backs of my hands in his for a few seconds, giving them a warm but barely perceptible squeeze, before he returned to the kit. He ripped open a packet of iodine-soaked pads and pressed them into my palms. That hurt even more than before. My face scrunched up with the sharp bursts of pain.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he said softly. “I don’t think we can be too careful. Crows are dirty fuckers.”
When he was done, he started to wrap my hands like you would a boxer.
“I’m sort of waiting for you to tell me how this happened,” he said as if I had missed my cue or something.
“Well, I don’t really know. I had climbed to this ridge and was just looking at the view when I guess it came at me from behind. Messed up the back of my head and knocked me off balance. I rolled down this slope, and actually was like airborne for a few seconds before I landed on this arm.”
He let out a low whistle, “Perry…”
“Anyway,” I said before he could lecture me, “I didn’t break anything and wasn’t really all that hurt so I got up and then saw this fire pit. I guess someone had a fire there at some point. There were footprints, maybe a paw print too.”
He stopped wrapping, his complete attention on me.
“And there was a shovel and holes in the earth, like someone had been digging for something.”
“Those boys who were attacked by the fox,” he said, thinking out loud.
“That’s what I thought. I didn’t see anything else though, there wasn’t really any evidence but I know there’s something about that place. I had been there before. In my dream.”
He cocked his head. His eyes grew from mahogany to a steely shade of brown, as if the moon passed in front of the sun.
“You had a dream about this?”
“Yeah…it was earlier in the week.”
“You had a dream and you didn’t tell me?” he sounded slightly offended.
I shrugged, carefully, so that my towel didn’t spring open and said, “It was just a dream. How was I supposed to know it would…mean something?”
“Because of what happened last time, you tard. Don’t you see? You dreamt about being in the lighthouse and then you were there. You can’t pass these things off as dreams anymore. Those days are over.”
I started to protest but he cut me off, “What happened in your dream?”
I told him everything and then added, “But maybe it’s not the same place anyway.”
He fell silent. He finished wrapping and then started on my other hand. “Pretty big coincidence to dream about that when you were back in Portland and had no knowledge of the desert, coyotes, and stuff being unearthed, you know.”
I tensed up as he applied the iodine on the other hand.
“Almost done,” he said, gesturing to my palm. “So then when did the crow do this?”
“When I was looking things over. I don’t know how it happened without me seeing it but I think it hit me in my head from the front. I fell down and it just started attacking me, like fucking claws out and everything. I stopped it with my arms but it was still using its beak to like try and peck my eyes out or something. Then I like flung it on the ground somehow and it flew away. Then the snake appeared, from out of nowhere.”
Dex closed his eyes briefly but continued wrapping. “And then…”
“Bird shot it. Just as it was going for me. If he hadn’t followed me, I-”
“I know,” he interjected. He finished wrapping my hand, then looked at me and gave me a terse smile. “I can only imagine.”
I could tell Dex was genuinely worried about me. Even though it caused butterflies at the base of my stomach, I felt like an idiot again for putting myself in that situation.
Dex let go of my hands and put one of his hands under my chin. He took the iodine pad and aimed it at my cheekbone gash.
“You know the drill,” he commanded and turned my face, gently dabbing it against my cheek. I barely felt it. I only noticed the strange look in his eyes as they stared into mine. Though they were tinged with sadness, their intensity made me feel weak in the knees and I was once again very aware that I was a shuffle away from being completely exposed.
I don’t know how long that moment lasted, or even if it was a moment, but eventually he looked away and did a final dab on my cheek. He let out a large puff of air, smelling faintly like sweet tobacco, and stepped back.
“You’re going to have a rusty blotch on your face from the iodine, but I think if you wash it in an hour you should be good to go.”
“Thanks, Dex,” I said softly.
He gave me a quick smile and then opened the door. “I’ll be downstairs.”
And with that he was gone. I was alone again in the bathroom, my wounds cleaned but my mind more infected than ever.