The sun beats down on me as I make my way up the trail, sweat pouring down my back and getting into my eyes. It's been some time since I've gotten water from the river and hauled it back to camp. I honestly forgot how difficult it is. Lifting the sizeable buckets filled with water is one challenge, but carrying them back to camp? That's another problem entirely. Certain parts of the trail are steep and rocky, and it takes a certain amount of strength, balance, and endurance to make it all the way back to camp.
This typically isn't a job that falls to me. Sometimes it doesn't fall to anyone. But the rains have been few and far between, and to keep everything running, we have to go down to the river and bring water back to camp. Usually once in the morning is enough, but the heatwave we've been experiencing might force us to go down twice a day, maybe more. Everyone needs to stay hydrated in this heat, and making sure everyone stays safe is my responsibility.
Still, though, it's usually Matt who hauls the water. He's done it so many times by now that he makes it look easy, but after today, I certainly have a new respect for his task. He also prefers the solitude the hike down to the river and back offers him. Today, unfortunately, he's indisposed, and someone had to make the hike. Someone had to get water back to camp and keep everyone hydrated. I volunteered. Most everyone else already has their tasks, and I wouldn't want to take them away from that.
It's midmorning by the time I return to camp. As soon as he's available, I need to find Matt and thank him for always doing this. As I approach, a voice calls out my name, announcing my return to the entire camp. I stop for only a moment, adjusting the shoulder yoke. It's worn down to fit Matt's shoulders perfectly, but it digs into mine. Once the yoke is slightly more bearable, I finish my hike, slowly making it to the fire pits. Seems a bit oxymoronic to hand out water near the fire pits. But everyone knows where they are, and if someone is loud enough, you can hear them from anywhere in the camp.
Most of the Renegades are already gathered by the time I set the water buckets down. Once they are safely on the ground, I shrug the yoke off of my shoulders, wiping the sweat from my forehead and pushing my hair back. I take a look around, checking off a mental list, seeing if anyone is missing. If they are, I have to go find them and make sure they get some water. Only four are unaccounted for: Gemma, Savannah, Matt, and Israel. Without a single hesitation, I begin to form a battle plan.
Matt is probably with Savannah, and she usually keeps her own supply of water. If she needs more, I trust her to come get it. I'll still check on her, but that'll be the last thing on my to-do list. I haven't a clue where Israel could be, but I know who does, and she's not far from me. A quick chat with her will be the first thing checked off of my list, but that's only out of convenience. My biggest concern right now is Gemma. She goes off into her own little world sometimes. If there isn't anyone with her, Gemma could find herself in some serious trouble.
Still, though, I'm going to ask about Israel first. A quick glance and I find Annalise struggling to carry a good-sized pot while a rambunctious toddler runs circles around her. Well, I might as well see if I can help her until Israel makes his way back. I really should be looking for Gemma, but I can help Annalise right now. If something happens to Gemma in the meantime, that'll be on me. I make my way over to her, smiling when I hear Rosalie's excited giggles.
"Need some help with that?" I ask. Both Annalise's and Rosalie's eyes land on me, the latter squealing.
"Uncle Atlas!" she screams, running over and hugging my legs. That only lasts a second before she steps away, scrunching up her little nose. "You wet. And stinky." Annalise and I both laugh as Rosalie runs back to her mother, tapping a rhythm against the pot.
"I agree. You know, after making that hike, you probably deserve to stick your head in the bucket to cool off," Annalise tells me, and I shake my head.
"Nah, I'm not getting all my sweat into everyone's water. That's not fair to them," I respond, and Annalise rolls her eyes.
"You know what's not fair? The fact that you're here, sweaty and exhausted, and you don't have any water yet. There's a reason we let Matt get his water first. Sometimes we even let him fill his canteen, drink it gone, and fill it again. So why haven't you filled yours?" Annalise wonders, and I shrug.
"Matt's in a slightly different position than I. He mostly only has to look after himself. I have to look after everyone, and that means making sure everyone gets water before I do," I answer, watching as she tries to readjust the pot. "Here, let me help you with that. At least until your husband gets back so he can do it." Annalise laughs and starts to tell me she can handle it. She stops when Rosalie runs into her legs, nearly making her drop the pot.
"Are you sure you're not too tired? I mean, Matt only makes it look easy because he does it every day," Annalise worries, but I wave the comment off. She gently transfers the pot to me before grabbing Rosalie and playfully holding her hostage. Rosalie squeals in excitement as her mother tickles her, her ringlets bouncing with each giggle. She finally breaks free and runs over to me, once again using the pot as a drum.
"Hey, Rosalie, where's your daddy?" I ask, and Rosalie's eyebrows furrow in thought, one little hand burying itself in her curls.
"I forgot my bottle. He go get it," Rosalie answers. She looks past me and squeals, taking off for something unknown. I manage to look over my shoulder and see Israel walking up to us, Rosalie already riding on his shoulders. I readjust the pot as Israel comes to stand next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. He quickly pulls back when he realizes how sweaty I am.
"Well, I guess that's another reason Matt volunteers to get the water," Israel mentions, and I nod. It does make sense. I ask if he got what he needed, and he gestures to where both his and Rosalie's canteens are tied around his waist. He looks at me carrying his wife's cooking pot and sighs, taking his daughter off of his shoulders and handing her to Annalise. He then takes the pot from me, telling me he'll carry it the rest of the way. "Now. You should go get some water, King Atlas."
"Don't call me that. Besides, I've got something more important to do," I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow. "I've got to go find Gemma. You have any idea where she is?"
"Last time I saw her, she was in the fields. You might check there," Israel suggests. That's a good idea. She's usually either hanging around her supply tent, helping Savannah, or in the fields. It's when she isn't in one of those three places that it becomes an issue. I pat Israel on the shoulder, leaving him to get water for himself and his family. I'll get water as soon as Gemma, Savannah, and Matt are taken care of. Or, at least, until they've promised that they will go get some when they're done with whatever job is holding them up.
I make my way to the fields, having to stop about halfway through when I start feeling dizzy. I put my hands on my knees and breathe deeply, trying to keep the feeling at bay. Maybe Annalise and Israel were right. Maybe I should have gotten water. But I'm already almost to the fields. It would take less time to check for Gemma than to turn back. Once the dizzy feeling passes, I try to swallow down my spit to relieve my increasingly dry throat. Once Gemma, Savannah, and Matt are taken care of, getting water will absolutely be my priority.
As I approach the fields, I hear humming. That's a surefire sign that Gemma is here. The humming is coming from the corn, and I sigh. It's midsummer, which means the corn is at least knee-high. For most, that wouldn't do much to hide them. But Gemma, who has to stay so low to the ground, can go missing easily between the stalks. I follow the sound, looking between rows for a familiar face. Eventually, I spot the head of auburn hair I'm looking for. She's feeling along the dirt, getting her face so close to the ground her nose is practically touching the dirt when she finds what she's looking for.
"Gemma," I say, and she jumps, a clump of dirt flying in the air. She holds tightly onto the weed she just pulled, looking around wildly. Her gaze lands on me, and she squints. She brings her hand up, measuring me with her fingers. When that isn't enough, I start to laugh. "It's Atlas."
"Oh, hey! Whatcha doing out here?" she asks.
"I might ask you the same thing," I wonder, and she shrugs.
"I went through the rest of the fields yesterday. Came out here as soon as I woke up so I could finish weeding the corn," she responds, feeling along the dirt again for weeds. "So, now you answer me. Why are you out here?"
"Looking for you. I got the water up here a little bit ago and I wanted to make sure you got some," I answer, and she nods, wiping her forehead, leaving a streak of dirt behind.
"'Preciate that. I'm probably at a good stopping point. Hey, if I ask around, do you think I can get some help carting some water to the fields? Everything's looking a little dry," she tells me, and I nod. If she can't get someone to help her, I can ask around. I doubt it'll take much work; everyone loves Gemma. Only new Renegades are a little wary of her, and that's only until they realize that she can mostly take care of herself.
"Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll rain soon."
"One can only hope. You know, Rosalie's convinced that we should go talk to the gryphons and see if we can help them. She thinks they're mad about something and that's why it hasn't rained," she tells me, and I laugh.
"She told you that?" I ask, and Gemma nods, a smile on her face. "She attributes too much power to them. They're incredibly powerful, yes, and a great ally, but they don't control the weather."
"Try telling a two-year-old that," she reminds me, and I sigh. We'll just have to hope for the rain to come and break this damn heatwave.
"Well, let me know what happens with getting water to the fields. I can help you out if worse comes to worst. Speaking of, is there anything I can for sure help you with?" I ask, and Gemma thinks for a moment.
"Well..." she starts, drifting off. She bites her knuckle as she thinks, apparently not caring that her hands are covered in dirt. Either she's not sure she needs help, or she doesn't want to admit it. My money is on the latter. "It's about time to get the late crops planted. You know, beans, tomatoes, pumpkins, carrots, the likes. I've been going through the seeds from last year and making sure they haven't, you know, rotted or anything. The pumpkin and bean seeds are all fine. But you know, carrot and tomato seeds are small, and..."
"And you can't see them well enough to tell if they're still viable," I finish, and she nods. "I'll go through them later. For now, you get over to the firepits and get some water. Are you going to be able to get over there?" She glares at me, and I smile, throwing my hands up in defeat.
"I may barely be able to see, but I know this place like the back of my hand. It's called muscle memory. There isn't a single spot in camp that I can't get to," Gemma responds, and I nod. She gets up and brushes the dirt off her pants. She carefully makes her way out of the field, gingerly tapping the dirt with her foot before she takes a step. She may have the layout of camp memorized, but the fields are everchanging, and she's got to be more careful out here. She can step on grass all she wants, but the crops are a different story. "Hey, by the way, why did you get the water today? Doesn't Matt usually do that?"
"Matt's having a bad day," I tell her, and she looks up from the ground, her face filled with concern.
"Is he with Savannah?" she asks, and I nod. "Maybe I'll check in with her when I've gotten some water. Was it the dream, or...?"
"I don't know. All I know is that he's having a bad day. Nobody really wanted to make that hike, and I don't blame them. But someone had to get water. None of my Renegades are going to die of thirst on my watch. So I grabbed the yoke and water buckets and went down there," I answer, and she finally gets herself out of the field and comes up beside me. She places her hand on my forearm, a little too short to comfortably reach my shoulder. Not surprising. The top of her head just barely reaches my shoulder. She's apparently not bothered by the fact that I'm still covered in sweat.
"You're a good leader, Atlas. No matter what anyone else might say," she says, and I look down at her, eyebrow raised.
"Oh? And who says I'm not a good leader?"
"You know who. The same people who don't want us out here in the first place," she answers, and I nod. I know full well who she's talking about. The same people that nearly ended my life and took the person I loved. The same people who consistently steal Israel away from us. The same people who would love to get their hands on me and destroy our entire way of life.
The Vultures.
"Hey, I'mma go fill up my canteen. You should probably do the same thing," Gemma suggests, and I nod. I hadn't realized how zoned out I was thinking about the past.
"I have to go check on Savannah and Matt first, and then I promise I'll get some water. Then I'll go sort through your seeds," I promise. Gemma tries to convince me to go with her, but I insist that I have to check in on Savannah and Matt. She gives in and heads towards the firepits, her steps completely sure now that she's out of the fields. From here, it's not too far to Savannah's tent. It's getting closer to midday, the sun almost straight above me, the heat rising with it. Still, though, I start the walk, ignoring the ache building in my head. I can ask Savannah about it.
As I get closer to Savannah's tent, I hear the sounds of the animals in the paddock. I think for a moment, wondering if they have enough water. I shrug the thought off. Gemma will make sure they're taken care of. If she doesn't do it, she'll find someone who will. I continue my walk to Savannah, getting to her tent just as my muscles start to protest. We all know which tent is hers without any thought. In the summer, she uses a tarp to shade the tent and keep it cool. In the winter, she uses the same tarp to insulate it and keep it warm. I lift the flap and walk inside, the cool interior feeling like absolute salvation. Savannah is sitting on the floor, grinding something, the mortar between her feet, both hands on the pestle. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
"What's up, Atlas?" she asks, and I put a finger up. That walk took more out of me than it really should have. I feel out of breath and even a little dizzy. That's twice now in only a few hours. That's new. She puts her grinding away and walks over to me, looking me up and down. She sighs, shaking her head, and points to a cot. "Go. Sit down."
"I'm... I'm fine, I swear..." I try to tell her, but she doesn't listen to me. She grabs my arm and leads me to the cot on the far right side, practically pushing me onto it.
"I know you got the water today since Matt is right there," she says, gesturing to the far left cot where Matt is lying, passed out and sweating up a storm. He'll be uncomfortable when he wakes up. Cold sweats are the worst. I know that much from experience. "Have you gotten any water?"
"I wanted to make sure everyone got some first. That's why..." I pause, taking a deep breath. "That's why I'm here. To make sure you and Matt got some."
"Atlas, you know I have my own stash of water in here. I was just making some more medicine for Matt, and then I would have filled up both our canteens, plus refilled my stash if I needed. You did not need to come check on us," she says, feeling my forehead. She grabs my forearm in one hand and uses the other to hold two fingers against my wrist, counting under her breath and tapping her foot. "Just as I thought."
"What's the prognosis, Doctor?" I ask, and she glares at me. She doesn't like being called Doctor just as much as I don't like being called King. Everyone knows that about both of us.
"Your skin is clammy and your pulse is fast but weak. Any headache or dizziness?" she asks, and I nod. "Heat exhaustion, maybe a little dehydration. There's a reason everyone lets Matt get water first after he makes that hike. It was dangerous for you to be walking around in this heat without getting water."
"It's my job as the leader to make sure every Renegade is taken care of," I tell her, and she laughs wryly. She takes my canteen from me and goes to her water jug, taking a deep breath. She takes the lid off of the canteen and slowly lifts the jug. She doesn't get very far before it crashes to the floor, a good amount of water splashing and seeping into the ground.
"Damn it!" she curses. "We have seriously got to get a new doctor around here. One that actually has hands that work!" She holds her hands up in front of her, trying to choke back tears. She's a better doctor than she realizes, bad hands be damned. I only wish she could see that. I ask if I can help, and she waves me off. She holds the canteen steadily between her feet and uses both hands to grab the jug, carefully pouring water into it. Once the jug is safely on the floor, she brings the canteen back to me, and I take a long drink.
"Now how the hell do you keep the water cold?" I ask, and she shrugs.
"I swiped that jug when I left the City. It's heavily insulated to keep cold water cold and hot water hot," she explains. "Now, no more making that hike to the river and going about your business without getting water. Not in this heat."
"Savannah, you know that it's my job to-"
"It's also your job to take care of yourself. How do you expect to take care of anyone when you're laid up in here with heat exhaustion?" Savannah chastises me, and I glance toward the entrance.
"I'm not staying long," I answer, and she snorts.
"You're going to stay as long as you need to. Once I'm sure that your body temperature has come back down, you can go. For now, you're going to stay in here where it's cool and keep drinking that water. That's an order."
"Aren't I the one that's supposed to give the orders?"
"Not now, you're not. My medical tent, my rules," she tells me, and I sigh, giving in. She's right. It wouldn't do to leave now and be brought right back because I passed out from the heat. "I really wish you'd stop doing this. I get that you're the leader and you think you need to take care of everyone. But you need to take care of yourself, too. I hate to see you punish yourself."
"I'm not!" I argue, and she gives me a look.
"You are, and I wish you'd stop. It wasn't your fault. You did everything you could, and I think she'd be more than pleased with you." I look down at the ground, unable to respond. I'm not sure about that. I'm not sure she'd be pleased with me. I broke my promise. The one thing she asked of me, and I failed. All I can do now is try and be the leader she'd want me to be and take care of the people she gave her life for.
"How's Matt?" Savannah laughs when I change the subject. Her laughter dies when she looks over at Matt.
"It's going to be a while before he wakes up. It must have been a horrible dream. He managed to make his way here before he passed out and started convulsing. I'll give him chamomile tea when he wakes up. Hopefully that'll calm him down enough to help end the episode," she tells me, and I look to where the mortar and pestle are lying, forgotten.
"Is that what's going on over there?" I ask, and she nods, telling me she was grinding up the chamomile for the tea. For some time we sit and talk while I sip on water, slowly starting to feel better. Matt stays unconscious the whole time, but that's no surprise. Sometimes his episodes are so bad that he stays unconscious for days on end and Savannah has to force water down his throat to keep him hydrated. She's hoping that if she keeps trying, she'll find a way to end his episodes for good.
Savannah clears me to leave after she refills my canteen with strict orders to keep hydrated and to never do what I did today again. I mock salute her and she ushers me out of the tent, laughing the entire time. I look at the sky once I'm outside, noticing it's officially midday. Annalise will be serving lunch soon. Before I make my way to the firepits, though, I start walking away from camp. I only walk for about ten minutes, but it's enough to put some distance between me and camp.
I look out into the distance, past the point where the canyon begins to form. Past the point where the grass turns to rocks and the river tapers to the north. Somewhere, just beyond the horizon, lays the City. I can just barely see the clouds that cover the sky there. If I walk for another ten minutes, I'd be able to make out the walls that separate the City from the Outside. Somewhere inside those walls is the person I spent years looking for.
"I thought I might find you out here." I turn to see Israel walking up to me, taking a sip out of his canteen. Instinctively I do the same, Savannah's words in my head.
"Where's the girls?" I ask.
"Rosalie is helping Annalise prepare to serve lunch. She can't do much, but she loves passing out plates and utensils," Israel tells me, and I smile.
"Like mother, like daughter."
"Something like that."
"You're a lucky bastard. You know that, right?" I tell him, and he shrugs. "You've got a beautiful wife and an adorable daughter. No other Renegade has that."
"That's not entirely true. I'm not the only married man out here," he responds.
"Fair, but you and Annalise are the only couple with a child."
"For now," he mentions, and I give him a look. "Okay, okay. I know I'm lucky. I'm so damn lucky."
"Yeah, you are," I agree, and he sighs as he comes to stand beside me.
"Knowing that doesn't make the bad thoughts go away," Israel tells me.
"I know," I sigh, and for a moment, we stand in silence. We look out at the horizon together for a moment. I go to tell him to turn back and that I'd join him in a moment. He doesn't like thinking about the City any more than I do. But he speaks first.
"You thinking about going back?" he asks. I have to admit, the question surprises me. Not because I haven't thought about it, but because no one's ever asked me that.
"No," I lie, and he snorts.
"You're a great leader, Atlas, but you're a horrible liar," he responds, and I smile sheepishly. He knows me too well. One of the many reasons he's my best friend and right-hand man. "It's been a while since you've looked for her. I know you haven't stopped thinking about it."
"No, I haven't. I've never stopped thinking about it," I admit, before rubbing my left shoulder. "But you know what happened the last time I went back."
"Yeah, I remember. But it wasn't all bad," Israel says, and I raise my eyebrow. "I mean, we did get Savannah. And because of Savannah, we have Rosalie, and my daughter adores you."
"I've noticed that. But that doesn't make up for the fact that I nearly died. Not to me," I remind him, and he nods.
"Maybe one day she'll come back to us. Stranger things have happened," he says, patting my shoulder and turning back to camp. I wait a few moments, before turning and joining him. I need to put the thought out of my head. If I go back to the City to look for her, this time I may very well end up dead. But maybe that's what has to happen. Going back would mean certain doom, but maybe that's my only shot at redemption.
Maybe death is the price I have to pay for my mistake.