Chapter 4

Evening came. The desert wind picked up, carrying a dry rustling sound, and the temperature finally dropped a little, but my fever climbed higher.

Sam did everything he could. In the end, all he managed to get down my throat was a few mouthfuls of water that tasted of grit and salt.

My thoughts were starting to blur at the edges. A violent, twisting pain tore through my lower back.

"That's it. We have to move. We need to get to the county hospital right now!"

Sam kicked the supply tent flap open and shouted at Amanda, who was outside directing the team as they packed up gear.

"Ethan's starting to talk out of his head! Mandy, give me the keys to the Land Cruiser. I'm driving him out of here myself!"

The survey team had two SUVs. One had been totaled in yesterday's collapse. The only vehicle still running was the Land Cruiser, the best one they had.

Amanda was helping Stellan into the passenger seat.

Stellan had a damp cloth draped over his face and a blanket pulled around his shoulders, moaning softly with that look he always wore, like the world owed him a gentleness it had never given him.

When he heard Sam, Amanda's hands paused. Then she turned around, her face set.

"I'm not giving you the keys. I'm taking Stellan to the hospital myself."

"His skin blistered in the sun. He's severely on edge. The therapist at the hospital is already booked. If we don't get there today, Stellan could be left with serious psychological trauma. His career can't take that hit."

Sam looked like he was about to explode.

"Stellan has a sunburn. Ethan is dying. Look at his leg. It's completely black. The back seats are wide open. Just put Ethan in the back and drop him at the hospital on the way. Is that so impossible?"

Amanda glanced at me, pale, motionless on the stretcher, and something shifted in her eyes. Distaste, and something careful.

"Stellan is traumatized. Seeing Ethan triggers his anxiety attacks. He can't breathe when Ethan's nearby."

"The supply truck comes in tomorrow morning. Ethan can ride out in that. The cargo bed is big enough for him to lie flat."

Tomorrow morning.

That was more than twelve hours away.

In my condition, dehydrated, with a leg that was already dying, lying in this supply tent for twelve more hours with no medical equipment.

By the time the truck showed up, I would probably be a stiff.

Amanda turned back to the door and reached for the handle.

"Mandy."

I was flat on the stretcher. I dug up everything I had left and rasped her full name.

Her hand froze on the handle. She turned and looked at me, surprised, off-balance.

In three years, I had always called her by her nickname, the soft way. This was the first time I'd said her name in full, without a single degree of warmth in it.

"You're not giving me the keys." I looked at her. My eyes were as cold as the desert at three in the morning. "That's your answer?"

Something in Amanda's expression cracked. She covered it quickly, pulling herself up, throwing the words back at me with a sharp, almost panicked edge.

"Ethan, what is your problem? I'm making the best call for the whole team and for Stellan's health. If you're so capable, walk yourself out. Don't just lie there glaring at me."

"Fine."

I let out a short, humorless laugh and closed my eyes.

"Sam. Stop asking her. Help me up."

And then, from somewhere far out along the horizon, there came a deep, heavy rumble.

A large truck was moving along the dirt road beside the camp, its high beams cutting bright lines through the dark.

It was a mining truck from a nearby site. It ran a nightly haul into town.

"Sam. Flag it down."

I pointed at the truck. With my left hand braced against the edge of the stretcher, gritting through the grinding agony of broken bone against bone, I forced myself upright.

Sam's eyes were wet. He ran straight to the roadside and started waving his red wind jacket over his head with both arms.

The truck let out a long pneumatic hiss and slowed to a stop. A weathered, middle-aged driver leaned out.

"What's going on? You need help?"

"Please, my colleague has a broken leg, severe dehydration. We need to get to the county hospital. Can you take us?" Sam was crying as he shouted it.

"Get in. I'll get you there fast. She's rough on the road but she moves." The driver didn't hesitate. He reached over and swung the passenger door open.

Between Sam and the driver, they got me up and into the passenger seat.

As I climbed in, I turned and looked back at Amanda one last time.

She was staring at me. Both hands still gripping the keys to the SUV. Her face was frozen, stunned, unable to process what she was seeing.

She couldn't seem to understand it. The man who had always bent to whatever she wanted, without question, without complaint, he was leaving. And he wasn't stopping.

"Ethan! Are you insane? That truck is going to shake you apart. Your leg can't handle that."

She was shouting from below, sharp and rising.

I didn't answer. I reached up and pulled the door shut, cutting her voice off, sealing it out there in the wind and the grit and the dark.

"Drive."

I looked out at the long, black road ahead of me.

"Let's go."

The truck pulled away from the camp and didn't look back.