Page 97 of The Hero Within
"Ladies first," Lincoln muttered, holding his cupped hands out for her.
"Just remember, angel. Your cure's at the top," Johnny muttered.
Right. She could do this.
"Motherfucker,"Eden groaned quietly.
Not the first curse word that had come from her in the past few minutes. When Eden swore, he knew she was reaching the end of her endurance. Johnny climbed up behind her, his body curving around hers. "Need a break?"
Reaching around her, he grabbed the rungs and clenched.
Eden let go, her weight pressing against his chest. He breathed out, feeling the slow burn in his biceps. It had to be hurting her. Not once had she complained when they crossed the Great Divide. She'd gritted her teeth on the way up the escarpment, but didn't whine. No, when Eden was struggling, she tended to get quiet, turning that significant focus inward until her body was merely a machine pumping blood through its systems.
"I can't do this," she moaned, resting her forehead against the wall.
"Well, you're almost three-quarters of the way up, so it's closer to the top than it is to the bottom. Come on. One rung at a time."
Eden gritted her teeth and set her hands back on the bars. Water splashed over them, which didn't help, as she took another step.
"When's your birthday?" he asked her, letting her track ahead again.
She looked down. "What?"
"Figured now's as good a time as any to get to know each other." Johnny hauled himself after her, straining under the weight of the wet pack. It was made of oiled canvas, so at least everything within would be dry, but he swore it was getting heavier.
"June tenth," she called back down. "What about you?"
"The eighteenth of September."
"Are you telling me this so I can bake you a cake?"
Johnny looked up in surprise and copped a faceful of water. Swearing under his breath, he wiped it away. "Not a big fan of cake."
She laughed as she hauled herself up. "Cake in particular, or my cake?"
"Dare I eat your cake? Isn't it supposed to be my birthday? I thought they were meant to be pleasurable days," he teased. Not that anyone had ever offered to make him a cake anytime recently. He could vaguely recall his mother doing so once, but that had been years ago. Hell, the most he ever treated himself to was a swig of whiskey.
"Fine," she called back down. "I'll get Maggie to make the cake, just so you don't choke on it. I'm in charge of the present. And I'll warn you: I've got ideas."
"Sexy ideas?"
"Maybe."
Pleasure radiated through him. He'd been trying to distract her—and maybe that was all this was—but she was speaking in terms of the future as if she imagined he'd be in it.
Despite the brief salvo, she fell quiet again.
They climbed for another few minutes, and he could sense her slowing down. She paused again, resting her head on the bars and trying to take the tension off her arms.
"Nearly there," he called. It had been a long day, and the strain was starting to show in her. Stars glittered in the sky above them. They weren't as bright as those you saw in the Wastelands, probably due to the proximity of the city.
Pushing up behind her again, he looked up. "Five more rungs, Eden."
A head appeared, outlined by the velvet dark sky.
Arik.
"Need a hand?" he called, over the roar of the water.
