“Every day.”
“Of course you are,” I grumbled beneath my breath, though he must have heard me, because I heard him chuckle. I sent a playful kick at his feet that he skipped over easily. He could probably run circles around me the whole time and still not break a sweat.
“There’s so much to do in this area. I wouldn’t mind coming back sometime.” He sent me a little half smile, then went back to looking around. “Although…I feel lucky to just see this place.”
I took a second to appreciate the vastness, the abundance of rust-colored stones and dirt dotted with specks of green, the scorching sun, and the sky above, blue and endless.
Limitless.
There were small signs of life here and there—a lizard the size of one of my fingers basking on a rock near my feet, a couple of cacti and scraggly bushes—but the landscape was a desolate one. No water as far as I could see, and hardly any shade for miles.
I licked my lips, tasting sunscreen instead of sweat, and feeling a new level of exhaustion. That drink of water I’d swallowed felt like ages ago, and my pride had kept me from asking for some of Noah’s, but now? Now I was rethinking that too.
I opened my mouth, ready to just give in and ask, but before I could, a voice rang out behind us.
“Doctor Noah!”
The urgency in Tay’s tone had us all stopping to turn around.
Noah reacted instantly, his spine snapping straight, body tensing like he’d been switched into a different mode entirely.
Tay was running toward us, her face flushed, waving one arm wildly. “Noah! It’s Roger! He’s having chest pains.”
He was already moving toward her. I scrambled to keep up.
“Did you call 911?” he called back, practically sprinting back toward the trailhead, his pack slamming against his back as he went.
“Joey did!” I barely heard her answer. “But…”
I could hear the unspoken, “But…they might not get here in time.”
By the time the paramedics had showed up at the post office, Dad was already gone.
The heat, my thirst, the dull headache—it all disappeared under the sharp, jarring reality of the moment.
Just beyond where the bus had parked, we found Roger sitting on the ground, leaning back against a rock, his camera on the ground beside him, his face pale and oddly dry looking.
Helen was kneeling beside him, gripping his hand, murmuring words too soft for me to hear. Fear rolled off her in waves.
Noah dropped to his haunches, all business. “Roger, can you hear me?”
The older man let out a wheezy chuckle. “Yeah, doc. Not deaf yet.”
Noah gave a tight nod, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he checked Ed’s pulse, then reached into his pack. He brought out a blister pack of aspirin and a bottle of water, better than any boy scout.
Why, oh, why had I snapped at him for offering me a little sunscreen?
I swallowed hard, watching as he pressed two white pills into Roger’s palm. “Chew those. Don’t just swallow. Chewing gets it into your system faster.”
Roger fumbled but was able to pop the aspirin into his mouth, wincing as he crunched down on them. I sympathized. Those things had to taste awful.
Helen glanced up, her voice wavering. “What do I do?”
Noah handed her the water bottle. “Help him drink a little of this. Small sips.”
She did as she was told, her hand shaking as she held the bottle to Roger’s lips.
A few minutes later—what had to be several minutes now since Joe called 911—we were at last able to make out the distant wail of sirens approaching. The collective sense of relief was palpable.
