I step out into the desert to waste some of the precious fluid in my body.
By the time I hobble back into the room, Cillian has found and set up a proper lantern. He has a map spread out on the workbench and a pile of pre-packaged food. There are even some cans of soup and vegetables. No meat. I guess this guy ate some of what he killed.
I pick up a muesli bar and tear into it. My stomach rumbles. I hadn’t realized how hungry I am until the food is in my mouth. My last meal was breakfast yesterday.
Has it only been a day?
I stand shoulder to shoulder with Cillian and peer at the map. I point to a spot just off the main road there’s a lookout and a short looping hiking track for people who want to look at the desert with only a small risk of dying. “That’s where I parked.”
How long until someone notices my car has been there for too long?
His fingers trace the trail, then deviate to the rock outcrop where he’d left his bike. I grab a pen and mark both locations.
“I think you attacked me here,” he says.
“I didn’t attack, I threatened. We were both attacked.” I circle the area, then stare at the other rocky outcropping marked on the map. We could be anywhere.
“I’m going to climb up and see if I can get a bearing.”
I lift my gaze and stare at him. If he falls, he dies, and I’m stuck here waiting to die. I don’t say that though. Saying that fear aloud might make it real. Instead I nod and hand him a muesli bar and a bottle of water. “At what point should I panic?”
“Dusk.”
I nod and swallow the knot of fear that clogs my throat. It swells in my stomach.
After he leaves, I go back out of the crevice, not to watch him climb, but to watch the shadows and figure out which way is north. Then I mark it in the sand with rocks. I sit in a corridor of shadow that shrinks far too rapidly and study the map again. It makes me feel useful, but I still don’t know which way to walk to get out of here.
When the shadow is eaten by the sun, I go back to the dim room. It feels like a tomb. Fear bubbles up and for a few breaths panic threatens to swamp me. I hold my breath and shove it down. Tears and terror will not help.
I take a few careful sips of water and then make an inventory of all the food and bottled water.
I find clothes and change out of my ruined jeans and sweat-stiffened shirt. The pants are too big around my waist and tight around my hips, but they aren’t too bad. I even find deodorant, which I know will just mask the smell, but at least it makes me feel cleaner. The cuff is missing from my ankle and I figure Cillian must have removed it while I slept.
To kill the time, I keep going with my detailed inventory of every item that could be useful. I make piles on the floor of weapons and anything that might come in handy. I go through the first aid kit and pop two painkillers to ease the burn in my leg and keep going.
I need to stay busy.
The shelves empty. I stretch up and run my fingers over the top shelf where I can’t see. My fingers touch metal and then I’m holding car keys.
My heartbeat quickens. Maybe it’s a spare set. Maybe it’s not here. They could’ve been up there for any number of reasons.
Or he has a truck so he can bring in supplies. If we can find the truck, getting out of here just got easier. I put them in the pile with the weapons.
I want to go outside and start searching—it can’t be far.
Instead, I force myself to sit. If we are both out there searching, then no one is waiting.
I rest, and I’m sure I nap because my stomach is growling when my eyes open. I get up and I figure out how to use the gas stove and heat some soup. It’s starting to grow dark. When Cillian steps in, I sigh with relief.
He blinks as his eyes adjust to the dimness. “You’ve been busy.”
“I had to do something.”
“Rest?”
“Nah, I’m no good at that.” Not when my life is in danger. “Do you know where we are?”
“Yes. I saw your north arrow.” He makes a mark with the pen. “We’re somewhere here. Which means the breach is in this area. The road is few days walk away.” His gaze drifts to my leg and back up. We both know I’ll slow him down.
