Page 71 of Last Light

“Twisted it.”

His face is pale, and he’s dripping with sweat. He’s not moving well at all.

I smother my frantic exclamations of concern since I know they’ll upset him even more. I manage to wait until he reaches me. “Here.” I wrap my arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”

“I don’t need to lean on you. I said I’m fine.”

He’s not fine, and both of us know it. His ankle must be hurting like hell if his pale face and strained expression are any indication. And he does actually put some of his weight on me as we hobble to the Jeep.

He starts for the driver’s side, but I steer him away. “I’ve got it. It’s your right foot that’s hurt, so how are you planning to drive?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to answer.

He sits down, panting hoarsely and wiping his face with his shirt.

Then he slams his hands down on the surface of the vehicle in front of him. “Fuck!”

I don’t blame him for his outburst. He’s got to be in pain, and he hates to feel helpless.

Travis with a sprained ankle is the last thing we need.

I go to the back to our first aid supplies and find a bandage and antiseptic salve for his forehead and a compression wrap we took from the drugstore.

“Here.” I crouch down beside the passenger seat so I can reach his ankle. “Let me wrap it at least. That might help keep it from swelling a little.”

He grumbles but lets me take off his shoe and sock and then wrap up his ankle.

It already looks terrible. It’s going to swell up like crazy.

“I wish we had ice,” I say. One of those stupid, futile comments that everyone says now and then.

Remembering when things were better. Easier.

“It’ll be fine.” He’s not angry now. But he’s slumped, and that makes me feel even worse.

I clean up the blood on his forehead and bandage the cut. It’s not very deep. Just bleeding a lot.

“Let me get you some ibuprofen. At least that might help with the pain.”

I grab one of our bottles and dump out a few pills. I hand them to Travis with a bottle of water. Then I spill out a couple more pills for me and take the water from him to swallow them myself.

“Still got cramps?” he asks, his eyes on my face.

“Yeah. Not as bad though. All this drama distracted me.”

He gives a soft snort, so I feel better.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Travis says as I close the cargo compartment and move to the driver’s seat. “We should be lookin’ for some place to camp for the night.”

“I guess we won’t be lucky enough to find a cabin again tonight.”

“Doubt it. We’re in the middle of nowhere here. Better that way though. At least the middle of nowhere is safer.”

“I know.”

I’m praying as I start off.

I haven’t prayed in ages. Years. But for some reason I pray now.

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