Chapter 33
Day 13—151 Miles to Volkov Station—No Food Remaining
They’d eaten vitamins for breakfast, which wasn’t all that unpleasant. It made her feel full. In a way. If she pretended really, really hard. It didn’t, however, get rid of the cramps in her belly and thighs. And the cramps made walking difficult. She snickered. Well,moredifficult.
At least it’s not storming, she thought for maybe the twelfth or eighteenth or millionth time today. Or yesterday. Whatever. No storm was good.
But wait. Angel stopped, swaying like a sheet of paper in the wind. If it wasn’t storming, why was she bent forward like this? The extra effort she’d had to put in for the last hour or so was really chafing her.
Her eyelashes crunched as she blinked up.
Were those mountains ahead, biting the sky like a big set of teeth? Had Ford mentioned mountains?
She staggered back, managing not to land on her poor bruised ass, though maybe she should just let go and do it. Just sit.
It would be so nice. On a soft, springy sofa. Or maybe one of those memory foam beds, molding to every aching bone. Oooohhh, a hammock.
She set off again, picturing a cloud-light bed, right beyond this rise.
Even as she daydreamed, experience had taught her to keep her eyes glued to the ground. Damn thing may look as smooth as a skating rink, but every little ripple was an obstacle, just waiting for her to happen.
Or something. That wasn’t the expression, was it?
The ground rose and rose, the angle like torture, but also entertaining in a way. Variety. Variation. One of those words. Spice of life.
Spices. Her mouth watered painfully. Crap. She’d cut food words out of her thoughts a couple days ago. Damn this one for sliding in sideways. Now she’d have to cut out sayings, too, which limited her options of things to think about. Ford thought it was hilarious when she—
She raised her head, wiped her goggles, and stared at the empty space ahead.
Oh great. Now where the hell was Ford?
* * *
“Ihave a real good friend…lives in the hospital…I’ll buy him anything…to keep him alive.” Coop whispered the marching cadence under his breath as he skied. It was grim and grisly and perfectly appropriate. “Don’t…have no…legs…”
He stopped, shook his head, pulled his ski mask up, ran his glove over his face to clear away the clinging crystals, and turned to find that he was alone.
“Angel!”
Nothing. Silence.
Frustrated, he pulled his hat and ski mask off and called again, listening hard for her response.
“Yeah!”
Relief washed through him so intensely he had to work hard to stay standing. He scanned the horizon until he saw her, way down below.
Which was odd.
There hadn’t been mountains on their route, had there? His brain was on the fritz, foggy from lack of food. Maybe oxygen, too, judging from the climb he’d just done. He peered down at Angel’s slowly approaching figure. Christ, how had he not noticed the change in elevation?
He turned and stared at where a series of heavily striated hills chewed darkly at the sky, each peak a sharp tooth sawing into the gray above it.
I know this place.
That didn’t make sense, since he’d never trekked out here, but…
Wait. He turned, doing his best to find the sun, invisible behind a fresh blanket of clouds.
