𝐓𝐢𝐤𝐓𝐨𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 || #𝟏

Chapter 28

And in that moment, it was silent. He was silent. I was silent. I wanted nothing more but to break the silence.

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Eva Trend P.O.V

I didn't press any further. I didn't know why. Maybe it's because I didn't want to know the truth, or I was scared of what I'd owe him. Either way, he doesn't bring up this subject and we go back to pretending to sleep. It was an uncomfortable and restless sleep. The rain was noisy in my ears it did not cease until early morning. When I do finally drift off, the birds signal the start of a new day. I wake up in the morning with someone's arms around me. My head feels stuffy and I'm beyond tired.

Wait.

Who is this person?

I look barely over my shoulder and see Mychael's arms wrapped around me.

"GAHHHHH!" I shriek.

I untangle him from my body and sit with my heart thudding loudly in my chest. Idiot. Stupid idiot. How was I so dumb? HE was the one who had slept with his arms around me. He was the only one with me in this cramped buggy. Last night's events come rushing back to me and I unconsciously scoot away from him.

I try to stay quiet but my stomach was on a full-fledged protest so I have no choice but to wake him up.

"Mychael." I nudge him softly.

He doesn't wake up.

"MYCHAEL!" I shriek at the top of my lungs.

If there were any nearby wolves nearby, we'd be dead in an instant.

"Mychael I broke my arm!" I say to him again.

This seems to do the trick and he wakes up almost instantly.

"Are you okay? Do we need any bandaids, I've got a spare box in my pockets-"

"I didn't break my arm." I sigh. "Why are you so hard to wake up unless I tell you I've hurt myself?"

He shrugs and rubs his head absentmindedly.

"Anyways, do we walk back to camp or stay here?" I look down and twist my fingers.

"We should probably head back or we'd be eaten by wolves or starved to death."

"How are we gonna get the buggy to move?" I groan, unzipping the tarp and venturing out into the watery sunshine. "It's the heaviest thing in the world."

We stretch our sore limbs and share a chocolate bar we find in the guide's secret driver box. Typical.

"It's not heavy for me." He says.

Soon he's trying to push the buggy by force which obviously doesn't work.

"Or we could send a distress signal?" I laugh at him, "we could just place three fires evenly spaced out."

"Yeah, great idea." he huffs sarcastically, "Let's just spend hours finding wet sticks that probably won't catch fire."

"You got a better idea?" I glare, "Besides, wet wood makes smoke. It's the smoke we need, not the fire."

"How do you even know about this stuff." He collapses onto the floor, giving in and drained of energy.

I shrug. Mychael trails around gathering wood while I try to rub sticks together.

"You know the buggy's equipped with matches right?" Mychael pulls out a box of them.

"No." I reply shortly as I snatch them off him.

"Thank you!" he squeaks in a high, girly pitch.

"I do not speak like that." I hiss.

"Gee, you're so very welcome." he says in his normal voice, ignoring me.

Two can play at this, so I disregard his last comment. I get to work finding and marking good spots for the signals and ponder over the amount of wood needed. A while later, Mychael lumbers next me. I don't look up as I'm busy moving rocks and any other possible obstacles.

"Put the sticks you got here." I say, gesturing at a flat space of dirt I cleared out.

A very small pile of sticks clatter at my feet, barely covering half of the area I had originally planned. I look up at him furiously.

"Look," I hiss, poking him in the chest, "I get that we're not on good terms right now, but if we're going to get out of this alive, we need to cooperate. Starting will your attitude and and shit ton more sticks."

I don't normally swear, but desperate times call for desperate need. He glares defiantly back at me but this time I am set out to win. My smouldering look wins over and he trudges away and comes back with lots of wood, grumbling angrily.

"Put them here and help me pile them together." I instruct, taking advantage of my temporarily authoritative position.

Mychael gives me a look of pure loathing but does what he is told. Soon enough, we have three sizable piles of sticks ready to burn. When approach the first pile, I hesitate.

"What's up?" Mychael complains, "Just light the damn thing already."

My cheeks redden and suddenly I feel small.

"I'm scared of matches." I confess.

"Matches?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"Yes, matches." I say, embarrassed and annoyed, "Isn't that what I just said?"

"Why?" he asks, truly interested, "You weren't scared of that fire incident on the first day and the guide's bonfires."

"Well, that's different. It's just that something so small could kill and destroy so much is just kind of terrifying, you know?"

Mychael nods his head slowly. I have no idea is he really understands or he's just pretending.

"Fair enough." he says simply, "Hand it over then."

I toss the little box to him and he proceeds to strike a match. As soon as the fire touches the top stick, it stares smoking. It's small and hardly reaches my waist, so Mychael lights another, and then another. After a while, the smoke is a column of grey stretching up over the treetops.

Finally, the signals are set up and we sit down as we finish the third and last one. Waiting. I wonder if anyone saw this. It's been 10 minutes now. Are they coming? My stomach is really starting to eat itself.