“We might,” you say. “Okay? We might! But if we’re all going to die, then I want to do it in peace.”
At that, he sits on the ground. He’s wearing no shoes, you notice, and he hugs his chest with thin arms. His glasses are dotted with raindrops. The aftermath of the storm has brought a chill. He must be freezing, but he doesn’t shiver.
“He left us with no supervision,” says Troy in a raspy whisper. “And he took my Klonopin.”
“But…,” says Will.
“He’s not coming back!” says Troy sharply.
You try for a moment to think of anything other than your medication. And what it’s going to be like with no ammunition for the worst attacks. Your SSRIs, whether it’s Paxil, Prozac, or Lexapro, they keep you even. But it’s the benzos like Xanax that fight fire with fire when the anxiety takes over your entire body. Silas has taken the only way to quell your brain’s full-on rebellion.
“We have to find him,” you say.
“What do you mean?” says Will.
“There’s no other choice. Maybe this is some kind of cold-turkey, scared-straight thing like Troy says. Or maybe we’ve truly been abandoned. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter.”
“It definitely matters,” says Fran.
“No,” you say. “I mean, either way we have one objective.”
“And that is…”
“To make it to the drop.”
“But we don’t know where we are,” Troy starts. “And when you’re lost…”
“We don’t have enough supplies!” yells Diana.
She’s walking toward you, dragging something across the rocky ground. It’s a cooler, carving its way through a thick trail in the dirt. She lugs it into the center of the group and tips it over onto a patch of grass near the shore, and you all stare, mouths open at the meager contents scattered before you. Some almond butter, some hummus powder, dehydrated beans and lentils, oats, and a few granola bars. There are also a couple of pans to cook with, but that’s about it.
It was supposed to be enough food for five days, but you’re atthe beginning of day three and it doesn’t look like much. You and Sean could have polished this off in an afternoon.
“This was supposed to get us through half the week?!” says Will. “In what sadistic universe? My brother ate better at weight-loss camp.”
“Silas must have taken some food,” says Fran.
Of course.
“Okay,” says Troy. “So, we’re screwed. But don’t you think someone will come look for us?”
Diana huffs.
“Our families think we’re going to be out here for weeks,” she says, sitting on the empty cooler. “It could be a long time before they even start looking.”
Silence. The nearby lake reflects the passing clouds as the last of the storm finally dissolves into a light fog. A few lingering drops make rings that slowly fade in the lake’s surface.
“I’m with Diana,” says Will finally. “It’s not smart to stay here and just eat through our supplies. We need to move toward a goal. Something.”
“Why can’t we just go back the way we came?” Fran says.
“The current is moving in the opposite direction,” says Will. “Besides, we went through a chain of lakes. Do you remember the way?”
Diana walks to one of the tents and starts pulling up stakes to take it down.
“But how are we going to find the drop point?” Troy says.
Diana shrugs, and you watch her yank on a metal stake, and the left side of the girls’ tent deflates a bit. Fran gets up andgoes to rescue her pack before the tent collapses. She hugs it to her chest.
