Page 20 of Unrest
“One mile,” Short Matt said after ten minutes passed.
“Two miles,” he said after twenty-two minutes tramping through the dirt.
“What the hell, man?” Tater said. “You got a FitBit or some shit?”
“Yeah.” He held up his wrist to show a black band, and everyone laughed. “Doc recommended it when I gained a few pounds last year.” He patted his belly, which didn’t have much fat on it these days.
By mile three I was actually starting to feel hot, except for my nose and cheeks which were numb with cold. And by mile four my legs were starting to turn to jelly. Remy began to slow next to me. She kept her head down.
“You okay?” I whispered.
It took her a few seconds to answer, and then it was through shivering, panting breaths. “I don’t . . . want . . . to stop.” I grasped her arm to stop her and tore the socks from my hand. Her face burned my hand. I gritted my teeth against a curse.
“Guys,” I called out. “One sec.” Everyone stopped and turned to surround us as I dug out the ibuprofen and opened a bottle of Gatorade.
She took the meds with a shaking hand and looked up with bags under her eyes. “I’m sorry, guys.”
“Her fever is back,” I explained.
“I can keep going,” she said weakly. And I knew she would try, but it would not end up well. Tater peered at her. His eyes went to Officer Sean, the only guy without a huge duffle. He’d been carrying the camping stove and lantern, along with his small tent in a backpack.
“Can you carry my pack?” Tater asked.
“Of course,” Sean said without hesitation.
Remy watched with confusion as all of the guys began re-distributing weight, and then her eyes got big when Tater approached her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“You’ll ride on my back.”
Her eyes shot to me and I nodded.
“No way, Jacob, I’ll break your back.”
He rolled his eyes. “This is no time to be girly. Give your pack to Amber.”
She didn’t move, so I reached out and took the strap, pulling it off her. I pushed my arms through so that I carried it on my chest. Ugh. I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. I let out a deep, shuddering breath.You can do this.
“Please, guys.” Her pleas were pitiful, and I knew she was embarrassed.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Just ‘till your fever breaks and you feel good enough to walk again.”
She swallowed and blinked back tears. Tater backed up to her and raised her hands to his shoulders. After a few seconds of hesitation, she jumped. He caught her under the thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist, linking her ankles in front. Her arms went around his shoulders and crossed in front of his chest. She looked stiff.
“Just relax,” Tater said, adjusting her. “You feel better than my pack, trust me.” All the guys chuckled.
We started forward again. Eventually Remy relaxed a little and lay her head down on her upper arm, near Tater’s ear. Her eyes fluttered every now and then, and her cheeks were flushed from the fever.
I kept my head down to watch for rocks. Matt led the way with his compass. The guys seemed to naturally take on a formation, one in front, then two, three, and then Rylen, me, and Tater in the rear. We left footprints in the reddish brown dirt, which were blown away in swirls of occasional wind, unearthing cracks in the soil. Small cacti and brittle plants shivered when gusts hit them. The layered mountains in the distance taunted us by never getting nearer.
After a while Tater whispered, “Psst.”
When I looked over he was hunched slightly forward and Remy was dead asleep, looking like she was going to slide off him. Oh, my heart.
“Rem.” I squeezed her arm and she jumped, eyes bleary. It only took a second for her to cry out and wrap her arms back around him, hoisting herself up. Tater stood straighter, and with a nod, he kept marching.
Just when I seriously wanted to beg the guys to stop, Texas Harry, smack in the middle, let out a beautiful string of melodic words that flooded me with childhood memories; he was calling out a military cadence. The sound lit a candle inside of me that grew, warm and bright.
