“We’re going to keep going northeast until we find somewhere to stay,” the man beside me said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Okay,” I agreed, even though I had no idea what direction northeast was or why we would be going there. Reaching down, I wrung some water out of my sleep pants before sighing. “Maybe we can steal someone’s horse.”
His low chuckle was the last thing I expected, and I rolled my head to the side to see him. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked… I didn’t know what he looked like. “You know how to ride a horse?” he asked, like he knew as well as I did that I damn well didn’t. “Do you want to steal people’s laundry from a clothesline too?”
I groaned, even though it hurt, then laughed just a little bit. “I didn’t realize how stupid it was going to sound until after I said it. I used to watch a lot of Westerns with my grandpa.”
His snicker made me peek at him.
Lifting my hand, I put my cool palm on my forehead. “I was thinking… why didn’t we take one of their cars?”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Sarcasm dripped from the son of a bitch’s voice.
I blinked, turning my head slowly in his direction.
“They were new cars. The last thing we need is to risk getting tracked. I wasn’t willing to chance it.”
Ohhhh. That made sense.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell he glanced at me.
A strong breeze blew through, and I shivered again, tucking my arms between my legs even though I’d already learned that wouldn’t really keep me warm. “Since I’m on a roll with the dumb questions, I was wondering if maybe there was some kind of call or noise or something you could make to get The Primordial or The Centurion’s attention.”
His laugh was louder than the rain. “What do you think we are? Orcas?”
I snorted again, instantly regretting it. “I figured it was a long shot, but I had to ask,” I told him with a little laugh.
Alexander snickered. “No, there’s no ‘call.’”
A few drops of rain fell through the branches, hitting my arms, and I shivered again.
A nudge had me peeking over at him again. He’d spread his legs a little. His head tipped to the side. Toward him?
Was he gesturing me to…？
I raised my eyebrows.
“I can hear your teeth chattering,” he grumbled. “Are you going to come over here or are you planning on getting pneumonia again?”
“I had pneumonia?”
“I can’t tell if you’re trying me or being genuine.”
I smiled, not needing him to tell me twice to get on him.
I sniffled as I turned, ready to crawl onto his lap when his arm slipped around my lower back and he scooped me up and onto him. He’d raised his knees a little as he lowered my butt onto one thigh and hip, my own legs still curled up so that one side was tucked against his stomach. On my back, I felt him reach to the side and lift the backpack over my head before handing it to me.
I peeked up at him and he lifted his chin.
Was he tired?
My fingers were shaky as I undid the zipper and opened it. Inside there was a small first aid kit, three cans of tuna, two things of canned chicken, one can of pears, a box of crackers, and a Snickers. I looked at him again, and I smiled.
He didn’t smile back, but he did tip his head toward the bag, telling me to keep going.
He didn’t need to tell me twice.
I took out a can of tuna, peeled back the lid, and handed it to him. He took it, and I grabbed another one and did the same, balancing it on my knee, before I opened the box of crackers—which was halfway full—and shook some out onto my leg. I handed him one before taking my own.
Then, we ate. Tuna and crackers. I’d been so stressed out the whole day, I hadn’t let myself feel hungry, until now, and it hit me with a vengeance.
I sighed with fucking pure contentment as I scraped the bottom of the can for the juices just as he set his can aside and tucked his arm low around my back, giving it some support.
“Crack open that Snickers,” he murmured, his voice gruff, almost tired.
I wasn’t the only one still healing. I couldn’t forget that.
I tried to whistle, but it made my throat hurt too much so it sounded like a choke instead. I grabbed that Snickers bar, tore part of the wrapper off, and held it out.
But he didn’t take it.
Alex—Alexander—leaned forward, took a bite, then gestured for me to take one too. Over his. And I did.
Then I held it up for him and watched as he took another bite.
I wanted to talk to him, to ask him more questions, but my throat was so raw, I stayed quiet instead.
And we sat there, with the wind howling, both of us still wet, rain falling around us, covered in dirt and mud, in the middle of nowhere.
We finished that Snickers bar.
When the hail started to fall, when I was half asleep from exhaustion, Alex raised his other arm and wrapped that one around me too.
I wanted to crawl into a hole, close my eyes, and sleep for a year.
We’d been following the same creek for the last two days, but it had felt a hell of a lot longer than that.
That first night, the unrelenting rain kept us under the tree. I woke up with my head half on Alexander’s chest and shoulder and crawled off him enough so I could curl into a ball, setting my head on his thigh, hoping an ant didn’t crawl into my mouth. When he shook me awake with the tiniest bit of light creeping through the trees, we drank more water, and then I climbed onto his back. My whole damn body was so stiff, it took everything in me not to flinch. Then we took off again, fast but not so fast that my brain jiggled.
He was a machine. If he was tired, I didn’t see it, as those long legs pumped us forward and onward, effortless, unwavering, and incredible. I remembered seeing a show about how some athletes did these intense 100-mile races through the mountains over the course of sixty hours. I had no idea how far we had gone, the two of us, but none of them were carrying a Gracie-sized backpack and running off almost no food.
I didn’t just owe him a little; I owed him big time, I’d decided.
And he wasn’t the only one who repaid their debts.
More rain sidelined us, and we had to hide under one tree after another when lightning got close. We stopped and took water breaks—and I peed—when it was necessary, which wasn’t often enough, but we weren’t drinking a ton of water either. That second night, with me back on his lap, he used his fingernail to open two cans of chicken that we ate with more crackers. I was pretty sure we both looked longingly at the backpack, hoping a bar of Snickers magically appeared.
On that third night, we shared the last can of tuna, ate the best pears I’d ever had, and shook cracker crumbs into our mouths. Fortunately, it didn’t rain, and it wasn’t too windy or cold, and I fell asleep with my side pressed up against him. Early in the morning, he patted my thigh to wake me up. Then we left again.
We probably said thirty words to each other every day. My throat hurt so bad, I didn’t want to talk, but more than anything, I didn’t want to irritate him. Not when I was at his mercy, and I could tell that even though it seemed like his strength and stamina were back, there was still something off about him.