Page 76 of The Sixth Spring

The grove this time was sticky with drying muck that reeked of rotten fruit and copper. Every step the mud and stink clung to him.

Above, the moon had returned, starting to wax larger in the sky. It allowed Will to get through the barren trees without being scraped up one side and down the other.

When he came out the other side of the grove, he paused at the edge of the trees to take stock.

The rental gate had been extended, no longer just blocking the road entrance, but encompassing the site, running along the ditch all the way down.

It now separated the grove from the road, and subsequently, the tree where they always met.

Will looked both ways in the dark, then crept out toward it. There were security lights down at the entrance to Mercale Street and around the trailer, but thankfully not down this far.

Will kneeled beside the fence for a whole minute listening. He looked both ways, waiting to see if there was anyone patrolling inside the gate.

But it was just crickets and the gentle lapping of water.

Okay. Okay. He could do this. He had to.

Will reached up and grabbed the chain-link and, quietly, started climbing.

In bare feet, the metal dug into his skin. He grit his teeth and bore it, climbing the six feet up and slowly maneuvering himself over the other side. When he got both legs over the top, he dropped down the other side, landing with a wet splat in the muck.

He froze in his crouch, but the night stayed silent. He let out a breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Then he walked up the now-dry bank and up onto the now-dry road.

Will had a feeling before he got there that the tree would be gone. In the dark he could see at a distance where it should be, and there was no tree shape.

His heart dropped when he got closer and found the stump. It had been cut almost to the ground. When they brought in new machines, Will was certain not even the stump would remain.

The tree had been their shelter for just a few days, but it still felt like a loss. Like another thing he’d cared for, taken from him.

Will lifted his eyes to look at the lake, trying to bolster his heart for what he was going to see.

But it was worse. The lake was now half the size it had been. It no longer reached the road or the ditch, but was a small bowl of dark water ten feet off.

Will hesitated, then stepped off the road and toward the water. Was Itori okay? Was he…?

He couldn’t even think it.

At the edge of the water, Will stopped. He searched the surface for red eyes.

The water was still.

Instead of calling his name, Will started humming. He did it softly, crouching down to the water so his voice would carry. As he did, he pressed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that Itori wasn’t already lost to him. That they had a little more time.

Something moved in the water. His eyes snapped open to see bubbles on the surface of the water. A head breached the water’s surface a few seconds later.

“Itori!” Will hissed, almost falling into the water to meet him. Itori moved slowly, sagging into Will’s embrace.

Will wasn’t strong enough to support Itori’s weight outside of the water, and collapsed onto his knees. He didn’t let go.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Will mumbled. Itori was diminished, somehow. The man was still just as tall and wide as before, but he felt lesser. Weak in Will’s arms.

Itori breathed, and it was ragged.

“We have to get you out of here,” Will said. “They’re–they’re bringing more machines. I put sugar in the tanks, and even that–even that–”

He was on the verge of crying. After everything, after all of this, Itori was still wasting away. He looked worse than the first night they’d met.