Page 82 of Delirium

Camp’s eyes flashed with a challenge, and I knew I’d poked the bear. Before he could take another step toward me, Nash was already pulling him back to the tent. “No time to prove your masculinity. Tent first.”

It took no time at all to dismantle the camp, and then we were off, boots squishing into the mud with every step. Nash took the lead, checking his compass every now and then, but I had doubts as to how much a compass would help when we had no map. If it made him feel better, more power to him.

Hours passed, and we didn’t stop. If we got hungry, I’d reach into my pocket for a protein bar. Our progress was definitely less than it had been the day before, all of us feeling the weight of everything. I needed to do my best to ignore the trembling in my legs, finding myself oddly grateful for the rain soaking me even through my thin poncho. If I was lucky, maybe it would keep the fever at bay for another day. Either that, or it’d make it ten times worse. We were going to hope for option A, because I didn’t like the way my vision was beginning to tunnel, or the way leaves seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces when I brushed against them.

It was funny how all the things that made the rainforest beautiful turned into a soundtrack for a nightmare so quickly. The frogs were no longer singing a song, but a death march. The howling echoing in the trees was a warning, telling us to turn back before it was too late.

I turned back every so often to make sure James was still following. Camp was slower than normal, but still moving. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay. Maybe we really were stronger together.

Back in my undergrad, I’d taken an art class. Just one. I’d never been very good with my hands, but art was a credit I couldn’t get around.

I didn’t retain much from the class, with the exception of one lesson—Kintsugi, a Japanese art where they repair broken pottery by gluing them back together with lacquer and then painting it gold. Instead of broken seams everywhere, you have gold veins threading through your bowl. The chips weren’t mistakes anymore, but something beautiful.

More than once I’d thought that this must be what our hearts looked like, too, once they’d been broken once or twice. The cracks between our heartbreaks weren’t holes we needed to hide, but bits of gold shining through. Our scars were our stories. Our flaws were our treasures, meant to be valued and held close.

All those things we thought scared people off actually drew them in closer. Hadn’t that happened with all of us so far? We clung to our secrets, what we thought were our flaws, only to be accepted by the others when we revealed our true selves.

Nash turned around from the lead, checking on Camp with a smile. Even without me in the mix, these men had built friendships, relationships that made them feel seen for who they really were.

Maybe Nashwasright. Even if everything on this trip had gone wrong so far, it had been worth it to bring us all together, like we were meant to be like this all along.

The universe just had a poor sense of humor to go along with it.

As if the universe could hear my thoughts, Camp stopped ahead of me. I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely. Maybe he just needed a break. “Camp?”

His only response was to fall to his knees in the mud, his face hitting the ground a second later.

Fuck. “Camp!”

I sprinted the distance between us, falling to my knees beside him. Pressing my wrist to his forehead, he was absolutely burning up. Still breathing, but his heartbeat was slow—dangerously slow. “Nash!”

I didn’t need to scream for him, because he was already there, meeting my gaze with wide eyes. “It’s going to be okay, do you hear me? Don’t lose yourself now. We’ve come this far.”

I thought he was talking to Camp, then I realized he was talking to me. “Help him. Please.” The tears were already slipping out from beneath my lashes, not that anyone could tell with the rain pouring down around us.

Firm hands pulled me up, out of the mud. James held me against him. “We’re going to get him help. I promise.”

I tried to cling to their words, but I couldn’t stop looking at Camp’s limp body, Nash still kneeling next to him taking his pulse. “I can carry him, but we’re going to have to leave some gear behind.”

I thought about my bag, filled with useless objects when it came down to it. A journal filled with impressions of real life that could never come close. A sweater I didn’t care about. My toothbrush. “Carry him. I’ll leave my bag and carry the gear bag.”

None of it mattered without him. Without all of them. It was just stuff.

Nash nodded, dropped his bags, and slung Camp over his shoulders. His strength was impressive, unwavering even when I knew how bad he was hurting.

Hopefully, he was right and we weren’t far off from a village. I couldn’t let my thoughts drift further than that, barreling down a path where nothing good happened.

I dropped my bag, swapping it for Nash’s bag of gear James took my hand.

The rain poured, and on we walked, stopping every so often to check on Camp. He didn’t wake up, but he didn’t get any worse, either. I swiped water from my eyes, hoping it would fix the blurry images in front of me, but nothing helped. I was sick, too. And we were quickly running out of time.

James clung to my hand, squeezing it every so often, a reminder that brought me back to them. People who loved me.

I just needed to remember I wasn’t alone. This was just another crack in my heart, another flaw to be filled in with gold when we were all together again.

Another work of art.Hopefully we’d still all be around to appreciate it.

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