My wrist gets worse overnight. When I touch it, pus seeps through the cracking scab. The skin around the bite is bright red and shiny and hot to the touch. All of me feels warm, flush with fever, my expiration date stamped on my forearm and throbbing with every heartbeat.

When I show Riley, she looks at her own bite, clean and scabbing over, and I can't meet her eyes. I'd heard that the Turn happens faster for some people, but I sort of thought that we'd Turn within seconds of each other, with time for nothing but last words.

"I won't leave you behind, you know."

I glance up at Riley, pretend there aren't tears in her eyes, blink away the tears in mine.

"If you Turn first, I mean. I won't leave." Her voice is dangerously close to breaking.

"Riley, you are such a sap."

I force a smile and she wrinkles her nose and shoves at me (with her good hand. Neither of us wants to remind the other of what's coming), and I push myself upright and offer her a hand to help her up (my good hand, naturally).

"Such a gentleman." She says, and grabs my hand, pulling herself up and into my arms.

Then we're hugging, and it's so surreal to be able to touch her like this without worrying. Without wondering if I'm taking advantage, revealing too much, without wondering if she knows. I tighten my arms around her shoulders and bury my tears in her neck, and we stand there for a long time, speechless.

Riley laughs, pushing me away to arms length. "Not the most romantic first date."

I laugh back (a little watery, maybe, but it'll have to do). "I was thinking more long walks on the beach and less infected."

She's looking at me, right in the eyes, and gnawing on her lip (I don't know if she picked up the habit from me or vice-versa, but it's ingrained blood-deep in us both), and I have to look away. Her eyes are too intense, sometimes.

I can feel heat in my cheeks, and I know it's not the infection.

"Ellie."

I glance up. She sounds like she's planning something. That tone of voice is never a good sign.

"Will you go on a date with me?" There's this light in her eyes, a mischievous slant to her mouth.

I flap at my face, feigning a swoon. "Oh, Riley, a date, golly-"

She smacks me on the shoulder, laughing.

"Is that a yes?"

And I nod, and she grabs me by the hand.

"Come on."

Then we're off. I spend a lot of my time being dragged around by Riley.

There are worse people to be dragged around by.

When we get to the food court, Riley sits me down at a rusty table, the paint chipped and peeling, and presses my hand to the tabletop.

"Stay here."

"Riley, what are we doing?"

"Stay here." She says, and then she runs off, with a glance and a 'stay' hand gesture waved in my direction. I hear her whistling long after I lose sight of her. I guess we don't have to worry about attracting anything with the noise, anymore.

I wait at the old table maybe ten minutes, and then restlessness gets the better of me.

I don't have much time left. I don't want to spend it just sitting around.

The thought is jarring and intrusive and I shake it off, wandering around the food court to distract myself (I'm too sweaty, and even the walk leaves me winded, but I don't think about why). The stalls are old and beat-up, but if I close my eyes, I can picture it full of people, bustling with life and activity. It's better then thinking about the Other Thing.

Imagining's not as fun without Riley narrating.

When she's still not back ten minutes later, I fish around inside the stalls, find some old cans of peaches and granola bars at a place that used to sell sandwiches.

"Hello, I'd like to buy these."

I put the food on the counter, trying to pretend someone's there to ring up the purchase, but it's hard without Riley there, and I just wind up feeling stupid.

"Whatever." I scoop the food off the counter and dash back to the table when I hear whistling in the distance.

"Hey." Riley comes back with a plastic bag in one hand and a tiny smile on her face.

"Hey." I put the food on the table. "I found lunch."

"I thought I told you to stay here."

"Here is relative. You could have meant the whole mall for all I know."

I'm rewarded by a laugh, and when I look up to meet Riley's eyes she shakes her head.

"Close your eyes."

I make a face, but I close my eyes, because when Riley gets an idea she tends to latch on (That's what got us into this mess in the first place).

I hear rustling, a curse.

"Are you sure you don't need my eyes open? You sound like you could use some help."

"I'm fine."

There's a muted click, and I smell smoke.

"Are you burning something?"

I hear Riley sit down across from me, the ancient table creaking in protest.

"Open your eyes."

Riley's set the table, damp paper plates and plastic cutlery and a candle guttering between us (It's an eye-ball shaped Halloween candle, but it's the thought that counts).

The food I found is split evenly, unwrapped granola bars and slimy peaches sitting in the centre of each plate (I'm nauseous rather then hungry, and the realization makes anxiety gnaw at my stomach where hunger should be).

She sits down across from me, smiling, and picks up her knife and fork, slicing off a piece of granola bar.

"Lovely restaurant." I say. "How far in advance did you have to make reservations?"

Riley laughs, and goddamn, talking is so easy with her, and I missed this. This whole mall thing was worth it, I missedher so much.

We eat shitty food and talk about everything but the future (well, I talk about space, but we don't talk about our future), until the candle burns itself out, and then Riley leans across the table to kiss me.

She tastes like peaches and sweat and dust, and I kiss her back, and it's so novel and so nice, just to be able to touch her. When we get up I hold her hand, sticking close, because now that I can touch her I'm going to keep out separation to a minimum.

We wander without looking for anything.

We find something, though- a store room with a door that locks, and sleeping bags inside, and I know that this is where we'll spend our last days.

Riley sits me down on a sleeping bag and rubs circles into my back and tells me how warm I feel, and can she get me any water, and am I okay, and I shut her up with a kiss and tell her that I don't want to spend my last day talking about my fever.

Instead I curl into her side and run my fingers through her hair, wrap my arm around her shoulder, and she gets it.

Somehow, another day has slipped by, and panic spikes through me when I look at the ticking time bomb on my wrist. I think about the sunset last night, about how I'll probably never see another.

I fall asleep on Riley's shoulder, letting her gentle hands rub the tension out of by back and the fever out of my blood.