"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey," Skyelar sings in my ear. Unfortunately, he jumps out of the way before I can take a swing at him. It can't be morning already. I closed my eyes barely five minutes ago. I groan, a sound that is akin to a dying whale.
Everything hurts. Everything.
Sitting up feels like too much effort, but I manage. Mornings are always the worst. I sway in place for a moment, keeping my eyes scrunched closed. Damn, is it hot in here. 'Warm' is not a temperature I'd expect from a cave in Russia, especially not in the middle of spring. Maybe we got lucky, for once in our collective lives. I pry my eyes open, crusty sleep crumbles on my lashes. I blink a couple times and fix my glasses while my vision eases into focus. The fire is a black pile of char on the chipped cave floor, and weak light floods in from outside. Maverick is gone.
I get stiffly to my feet. Every joint protests. Between the lack of pills, a burned back, and sleeping on a cold hard slab, I must confess that this is not my finest morning. I grimace as the dry heaving from last night makes a re-appearance. I smother my mouth with my hand and cover a lurch with a cough.
"Alright there, mate?" Sky cocks his head at me, bright ginger bangs fall across his forehead.
I clear my throat before answering. "Stomach cramp."
He chucks something silvery at me, and I jolt to catch it. The resulting pain is paralyzing. I crush my free hand into a fist, fingernails break skin, but I can't register the stinging over the sharp spasms. It feels a lot like someone is taking a nail gun to my back, right where the burn is. Sky gives me a weird look. I give a little wave, pretending to be fine, and force myself to focus on the thing he tossed me.
It's a protein bar. I can't read the Cyrillic letters on the silver packaging, but like most things the Compound used, I recognize the shape and packaging. The wrapper crinkles like Christmas paper as I rip it off. Saliva floods my mouth as I take a huge bite, not even nausea could keep me from eating this morning. Nothing has tasted so good in the history of food.
It isn't until I'm halfway through cramming the morsel of food into my mouth that I bother to ask where it came from. None of us packed food.
"Miss Tatyanin gave us some of her stolen rations," Sky answers.
"Miss Tatyanin?" I raise an eyebrow and wipe the last crumbs of the bar off my chin. Sky shrugs and plucks his shirt from the cave floor.
A weird sensation, exactly like the one from last night, washes over me. I look around, and—surprise, surprise—find Anushka staring at me. Correction, staring at my back.
"Can I help you?" I raise my voice enough to attract her attention and draw it away from my burn, which I'm sure isn't covered completely by the measly bandages. She purses her lips, and when she meets my gaze I can practically see the wheels turning in her mind.
"Thanks for the food." I wave the empty wrapper at her. She nods curtly but holds her tongue as she exits the cave. As soon as she's out of sight, and I'm sure that Sky isn't looking, I twist to examine my back. My sore muscles protest but being able to stand has helped the back pain from earlier—by pooling it all in my legs, but that's a more familiar, bearable problem. I can only spy slivers of red skin and flesh through the cloth strips, but there are wet spots where the wound has wept openly. Gingerly, I prod the border. Greenish-yellow slime oozes out, soaking the edge of the nearest strip.
"Nasty burn." King startles me. I jerk my hand away. His voice is deep and rumbly. I think this might be the first time I've ever heard him speak.
"It's not bad," I lie, wiping my hand on my pant leg.
"No?" His eyes, a shade lighter than his skin, sweep over me. He looks anything except convinced.
"I've had worse."
King snorts but leaves me be. First Anushka, now King. The numbers are stacking against me. I don't know how many of the others have caught on too, but I'm not going to let them stop me. I stoop to pick up my shirt and sweater, holding my back straight. I follow King out as I slip the tank top over my head.
A cool breeze floats through the trees. I relish in the relief from the sweltering heat and inhale a lungful of rain-fresh air. The piney branches of trees glitter with trapped water droplets, and the ground is slick and damp. Everyone has gathered outside the cave mouth. Everyone except Maverick, that is, and since I didn't see him inside, he must be wandering elsewhere.
"You should put that sweater on," Delilah advises. I stare at her like she's grown two heads.
A sweater? In this weather?
Then, I see her shiver. In fact, everyone except me has rashes of goosebumps that they are trying to rub away. Our breath swirls, opaque, in the air.
"Uh, here." I toss the sweater to Delilah.
She gives me a confused look but pulls the fabric over her head. The sweater fits well, she has a couple inches on me, so the bottom hugs the tops of her hips instead of the bottoms, but she flashes me a grateful smile. Then her gaze flickers to the damp bandages and her smile fades. Damn, I should have kept the sweater to hide this infection.
"Aren't you cold?" Sky asks.
"Not really." On the contrary, I'm burning up. King snorts again.
"You are sure you're all right?" he asks, he makes no pretense of sliding his gaze over the back of my neck.
"Fine."
"How fine?"
"Aw, leave the kid alone, King," Piper pipes up in a surprisingly strong Texan drawl, "you're just mad everyone else can walk without dropping dead."
King sneers at him. Thankfully, Maverick returns to interfere before things can progress to a flat-out fist fight.
"We're burning precious daylight, save your squabbles for when people's lives aren't on the line and let's move. Sky, Anushka, you lead." He makes shooing gestures as he steps between King and Piper. Sky splits from the group, followed by Anushka and the rest of us. I fall into step beside Maverick. He rolls his eyes up to the cloudless sky, mulling silently.
"Good walk?"
"I wanted to be alone," he murmurs. "I checked for signs of Dieter. I should send Sky to track him down, but who knows where he ended up after that storm."
"Mm," I grunt in agreement.
After that, I lapse into silence. Walking is hell, especially now that my system has begun cleansing itself completely of the Savella. I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and disguising my pain from Maverick's sensitive telepathy. Between my efforts and the distraction of keeping everyone else on the move he hasn't caught on, yet. I think. I just have to keep up until we rescue Elle.
We navigate the ever-steepening terrain for a long hour. Thick cloud cover hides the rising sun from view. Even so, it becomes ten times hotter as the morning gives way to afternoon. I'm sweating bullets despite the brisk wind. I run a tired hand through my damp hair and the strands stick right back down on my forehead, I must have a fever, though I'm denying it. Everyone else is shivering while I can't begin to fathom being cold enough to shiver right now.
Out of the blue my vision blurs, and an invisible hand shoves me back.
"Trick?"
My vision clears enough that I can make out Maverick's ballooned head. He looks like someone stretched the skin of his face over a swollen watermelon. The ground under my feet swirls in a vortex of half-melted snow and wet brown mud. I jump out of the way, only to discover that my feet are stuck. I'm sinking, fast.
Quicksand? In the mountains?
The landscape blurs again, worse this time. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to wipe away the dizziness and the nausea that's coming with it. The quicksand gulps my calves. This is bad. I need to concentrate. But I can't. I'm too dizzy, too nauseous, too hot, and— damn, I think my heart is skipping beats. It's not supposed to be going that fast, is it?
"Trick, what the hell, man?"
I open my eyes and the swirling of the ground sends my brain reeling. I don't think this is quicksand. I think I'm hallucinating. I open my mouth to tell Maverick, instead I vomit.
Maverick grips my upper arm. I suck in a breath, and then it all blinks out, like someone, somewhere, has flipped off a very important switch.
***
"He's burning up."
"Get some snow."
"Did you know?" A pause, a grunt. "Why didn't you tell someone?" Mav's angry. I don't know why.
"He did not want me to." Female, accent too heavy to be Delilah.
A groan. Me, or someone else?
"Trick, you idiot."
A biting cold dowses my back, my muscles lock up in shock. I can't move except to gasp in pain. A chilled hand pats my arm.
"Hang in there."
The switch flips again.
***
It feels like an eternity before the dark melts away, leaving my mind stripped of defenses and white-washed with burning bleach. At least now I'm awake. I'm lying flat on my back, the cold spreads its fingers over me. I peel my eyes open, which is an effort all in itself. What feels like a year's worth of glue-y sleep sticks my eyelids to each other. My heart drops to my toes when I only endless empty black, then a pinprick of light comes into focus, and another, and another. And flickering orange brightens my peripheral. I'm not trapped in limbo, it's night.
I let out a sigh. A faint crackling comes from the fire, and heavy breathing and snoring fills the air. For an instant I think it was all a bad nightmare, and I'm still in the cave. Then I realize the speckles of light above are stars.
With creaky bones and aching muscles all working against me, I sit up. Man, I feel like a corpse. But I'm glad that's all I feel like, it could be worse, considering the last time I remember being conscious.
"You're awake."
The statement comes from my left. I'm too stiff to jump at the disturbance, but I do turn to see who it is. All I can make out is a fuzzy blob against a background of taller fuzzy blobs. Where are my glasses? I squint at the ground beside me, trying to find them.
"On your left... other left."
My fingers finally meet the cool plastic frames, and I slip my glasses on. They're coated in smudges but at least they aren't smashed or lost. Maverick sits a few feet away, leaning on a tree, and in the dim light afforded by the campfire he looks ready to keel over. I've never seen him this ragged in all the time I've known him. I don't have time to speak before pain hits me like a fireball to the chest. Wheezing, I double over, but that hurts too.
I swallow a cry, wishing desperately for something to bite. I can't bite my hand for fear of breaking it, I can't scream for fear of waking everyone else. I'm trapped.
Maverick appears at my side. "Here, Tylenol," he says, holding a handful of pills to my lips. He's careful not to touch me as he feeds me three pills, then slips away back to his place by the tree.
For fifteen agonizing minutes I wait. I assume it's fifteen minutes anyway, since it feels like hours, but when the painkillers finally kick in I'm so relieved I could pass out. I nearly do. Instead, I heave a shaky sigh and look over at Maverick.
"I'm sorry," he says after a long break. His lips are chewed bloody. For a sickening moment I think that something horrible has happened, and we can't rescue Elle, until his gaze flickers to my burned back and he winces.
"It was nothing," I try to assure him.
"Clearly it was something!" he snaps, "I should have known something was wrong."
"It's my own fault for not telling you to start with. I didn't want to slow anyone down," I reply, pulling my knees up so I can rest my elbows on them. He relaxes in increments until he's leaning on the tree trunk again. It's a poplar, the smooth, white bark reflects the firelight. Similar towering trunks loom all around. There are certainly more trees here than the area around the Compound.
Maverick plucks a twig from the forest floor and twirls it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He's still on edge about the whole thing.
"You couldn't have known," I say.
"But I should have, damn it!" The twig breaks, he curses again, under his breath. "Damn it. It's my job to keep everyone safe, it's my responsibility." He tosses the twig away and glares at the ground.
"You can't keep everyone safe all the time. We're dangerous kids in a dangerous place. Thing's are bound to happen." I'm trying to talk some sense into him, but he doesn't seem to get it. "Look man, mope all you want, but don't pretend you're responsible for a mistake I made."
At that, the hard line of his brow softens, and a new crease appears over his nose. He glances up at me, nibbling on his lip.
"You're my friend," he says in a hushed tone. "Hell, you're my best friend. If I can't manage to watch your back at a time like this..." He trails off and lets out a heavy sigh.
"You can't keep an eye on everyone. You're not Eye Enhanced." I argue. I don't even think Eye Enhanceds are a thing.
He huffs, and I'm about to protest more when the slightest of wry grins lights on his torn lips. "Eye Enhanced. Can you imagine? Me with big buggy telescope eyes." He cups his hands around his eyes. An uncertain laugh works its way out of him, I try to picture it, and laugh a little too. Then he laughs some more, and I laugh some more, and soon we're both smothering childish giggles to keep from waking anyone else.
Punch-drunk from exhaustion, every time we make eye contact the hysterics start all over again. Gasping for breath, swiping at our eyes. It's ages before we calm down. When I can speak without bursting out laughing, I uncover my mouth and take a breath.
"Seriously, Mav, everyone makes mistakes, don't be so hard on yourself."
He ponders that for a moment, staring at the ground, then gives a slow nod. We both glance up at the sky. The clouds have finally cleared off, and thousands of glittering stars wink above us, twinkling like... I'm not really sure how to describe it. They're kind of like my abuela's dangly glass earrings, only a hundred times more captivating. The night wind rustles the budding leaves at the tops of the poplar trees. Out in the darkness beyond the campfire, an owl hoots.
"How long have I been out?" I ask. Maverick hesitates, his pause gives life to a ball of anticipation in my stomach. I look away from the stars and turn to him.
"Two and a half...maybe three days, if it's as late as I think it is," he mutters reluctantly.
"What?!"
Three days?
He holds out his hands.
"We moved, King used a slab of rock to carry you." He points to a craggy outcropping jutting out of the land east of us. "The military camp is right over that cliff. We were going to sneak in tomorrow."
Somehow, that only makes me feel marginally better.
"Three days," I scoff under my breath. We could have been here and gone in three days.
"Dude, you almost died. I'm surprised you're awake now."
I suck in a slow breath, silently forcing the frustration to disperse. He's right, of course, on both counts. People don't normally wake up when they collapse in the middle of nowhere. Which raises a whole other question.
"How...?" I leave the question open. He knows what I mean, perks of having a telepathic friend.
"Sergeant Tatyanin had the medicine." He taps his lower right shoulder, when I check the same spot on my shoulder, I find three teensy puncture wounds from a needle. "Tylenol too, in her pack."
"That's convenient." I rub the marks.
"I thought so, too. Seems blood poisoning is common in the Bloody Brigade. Soldiers get shot, and if the bullet doesn't kill them first, the poisoning does, so they started stocking everyone up with treatments."
"Huh." I throw a cursory glance down my shoulder to see clean bandages taped over the burn. The burn itself no longer hurts. "You know a lot about the Bloody Brigade?"
"I've been talking with the Sergeant."
"Talking?" I raise an eyebrow at him. He turns his hand lazily in a circle in a noncommittal 'so-so' gesture.
"Talking, skimming her thoughts, same difference."
I cough to cover a snort. He smirks, but that fades rapidly.
"Listen, there's something I need to tell you about, after we rescue Elle. There's a lot going on that you should know before anything else happens," he says, his expression dead serious.
"You got all that from talking to the Sergeant?" I ask skeptically.
"The Whitecoats think, too. There's a lot going on."
I narrowly avoid rolling my eyes. A lot is always going on.
"I'm serious." His voice drops to a whisper. "Heavy shit has been happening and we're right in the middle of it."
Someone near the fire shifts in their sleep, halting Maverick's tirade. He purses his lips and sighs through his nose. He seems to juggle something in his mind briefly before settling lower on the tree. He stills with just his shoulders and his head supported by the trunk.
"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, we shouldboth get some sleep now, before the sun rises." He yawns, crosses his arms overhis chest, and closes his eyes. I would argue, but the very mention of sleephas me yawning too. I lay back down on the grassy chunk of earth and turn overon my side. My eyelids slide closed of their own accord. So much for beingwide, wide awake.