Rebecca Boeshaar
The Ferrymen
I didn't want him to wake up and see me. Nobody likes to find someone lurking in their room while they’ve been asleep, even a friend. He would think I was a spook, which I guess I am. Corbin had been sensitive and understanding from the beginning. It took him no time to feel comfortable around me. Of course, things would be different now.
He’d been welcoming to me—well, not terrified by me. For months, we shared long talks and played board games. We even spent one night inventing a new game, a hybrid of the card game, War, and the board game, Life. It ended up pretty confusing, and all three times we played it, it turned into each of us inventing new rules to foil the other. We’d never declared a winner.
He looked peaceful in his bed. His arm, flung across his face, shielded his eyes from any light that threatened to wake him. I clasped my hands together in front of me to brace myself.
“Corbin?” I don’t always speak when I work, but I’d have to explain this to him. “Corbin.”
He stirred.
His body didn’t move.
“Wake up,” I prodded halfheartedly.
“Helene,” he rasped, “What time is it?