Amber carefully laid Justus on the patch of moss taking over the floor before tumbling down beside him, drained of everything. The ruins were the safest place to hide. No one came here anymore. Why should they? A bombed out village was only good for ghosts. Two more were soon to join the ranks in this place.
She watched her beloved. The slow rise and fall of his chest showed he was still alive, but she knew he might as well be dead. How long had it been since the fever took him? Two days? Three? No help. No money. No idea who to trust. Just what was left of an old church and a bed of moss. Soon there would be no Justus. Amber just lay where she fell and watched her best friend as the moments left of his life ticked away on some clock somewhere.
He didn't belong here. She had always said that. He always looked like a prince to her. She never really could understand why he took a liking to her. Here he was tall and sandy blond with the most gorgeous ocean blues eyes ever. He could have ever girl on his arm. But no. He chose her. For every dance. For every small gathering. For every moment of life. She feebly tried to brush the strands of amber brown hair out of her face, but failed miserably. She was nearly as gone as he was. At least they'd be going together.
Tears blurred her vision. They'd been through so much together. Ups and downs. But this was a fall they'd never get up from. Exhausted tears gave way to dreamless sleep as Amber sank deeper into despair.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. It took a while to remember where she was and why. Justus slowly came into focus. He didn't look any better in the fading light.The setting sun set fire to the golden highlights hiding in his hair. Amber slowly sat up, feeling better from her rest. Now was time to evaluate the situation.
The stained glass windows above her head were falling apart. Their remains colored the floor and turned the pulpit into the end of a rainbow.
Amber laughed to herself. A church? They were hiding in a church? This had to be the punch line to the joke of life. Hiding in a church in this God-forsaken land!
She crawled over to Justus to check on him. She could feel the heat caused by his illness radiating from him like a campfire. His forehead burned his feverish thoughts on her hand. No change. Good that he wasn't worse. Bad, because he wasn't better.
Amber knew it was best not to go far with night being so close at hand. She explored the room they were in. A few tattered robes were flung about the floor. Crushed, rotting pews lined what was once a lush carpet leading from the door to the alter. A small silver chalice hid amongst the molding papers hiding in the shelving compartments of the pulpit. Amber brought the better of the robes and the chalice back to their "campsite". She pulled over some smaller portions of the pews to create a small structure to throw the robes over to help create a type of lean-to. At least now they had better shelter from the elements. By the time she had finished, the sun was just slipping behind the hills surrounding the valley. Amber couldn't do anything till morning.
She hit herself for not making some sort of fire. When she brushed Justus' face with her fingers, she had second thoughts. He was burning up. Amber grit her teeth. She hoped the cool of the evening would be enough to cool him. She would have to search for better supplies to help them survive. She gently lifted her beloved's head before laying him to rest in her lap. She watched his face for any sign that he might stir. No such luck. His feverish heat flooded her freezing form. She ran her fingers through his hair, letting them get lost in his long tresses. She felt the tears threaten to spill. She closed her eyes tight to stop the waterworks. She would not break.