Page 7 of Last Destination

Slap. Another bite. “Bollocks!” I cursed again, though with far less brutality, nearly dropping the pile of limbs in my hands. “Tessa, how on earth are you not getting bitten?”

The woman shrugged, her arms carrying a far heavier load than I would have expected. “I am getting bitten,” she admitted, dumping the pile of wood into the center of the clearing and returning to grab another. “But not as much as you. Mosquitoes like certain blood types and pregnant women, or if you’ve been exercising … Oh! And alcohol. They’re attracted to carbon dioxide in the blood.”

I froze, the stick in my hand balancing in the air like an awkward trapeze. “How do you know that?”

“We did a segment on it before coming here.” Tessa’s thin lips pulled downward in melancholy. “Brazil has the highest rate of mosquitoes in the world. We thought it would be fun to feature.” She closed her eyes and drew in a cleansing breath before opening them again, the blue of her irises bloodshot with unshed tears. She then dropped her second armload of wood and dug a hand into the pocket of her loose track pants, pulled out a small bottle and handed it to me.

“Peppermint oil,” she explained. “I’ve been using it to keep my breath somewhat palatable, but it's an insect deterrent, too.”

When I unscrewed the top a pungent whiff of astringent toothpaste made my eyes burn and the back of my throat feel on fire. “Was that also from your segment?”

Her cheeks stretched into a genuine grin of amusement. “No, that’s from hippie parents.”

Snorting, I poured three small drops into my hand and rubbed the oil all over the back of my ears and neck. The cooling effect instantly soothed my skin, even though my eyes felt like they’d been lit by a match.

“Thanks.” I handed back the bottle and resumed picking up sticks through blurry eyes.

I liked this woman. Over the last number of days, she’d been so focused on her companion, we’d barely gotten a glimpse into who she was. She’d survived against all odds, and I felt compelled to protect her, to get her home to Toronto and to her hippie parents, where she could say goodbye to Vanessa with all her friends and family in tow. Under Marley’s care and Madman’s direction in cartel territory, we would do it. Ambrose and I would offer support wherever we could. When our safety and sanity were fully secured, Aileron would pay for their crimes, and Jamie would pay for his.

“We’re going to get you home, Tess.”

The blue of her eyes clouded over into gray. She pursed her lips and shook her head before turning away from me altogether. “I believe you,” she whispered toward the trees, and the squeeze of my heart made me vow to make it true.

When we’d gathered enough wood to fuel a bonfire for a fortnight, Marley had cut precisely shaped grooves into the wood to wedge the plastic bottles. The bottom rung had a bottle cut in half, the spout placed upside down with what appeared to be a torn piece of her cotton shirt stuffed into the bottom like a stopper. A layer of black powder sat on top. Three more bottles were cut into adjacent trees, presumably waiting for the final two layers she’d requested.

Ambrose came through the woods, gripping a bottle filled with brown granular sand. The gratitude in Marley’s smile was so stunning I couldn’t look away. I’d forgotten what she looked like when she allowed herself the luxury, the radiance of her presence a blast of warm sun in chilled wind.

She carefully poured the sand on top of the charcoal in each filter, then the gravel from Jamie’s bottles on top of that. Finally, she took the bottom ends of the bottles, now makeshift cups, and handed them to Ambrose and me. She nodded toward the few bottles of murky water Madman now carried.

“Rainwater will filter better, but we haven’t had a drink all day, and I don’t want us any weaker than we already are. Can you slowly pour that through the filter, and you two” — she pointed to Ambrose and I — “hold the cups at the bottom?”

We shifted into position to take on the task while she and Tessa sank to the ground, building up the fire. Madman slowly drizzled the water through the filter, and fascination filled me when the dirty river flowed through each layer and came out the bottom in a clear, clean drip.

Fresh water clean enough to see through. Its transparency was a work of art, glistening in the dappled sunlight like a precious jewel on an altar. Dew drops of saliva filled my mouth as I imagined the smooth glide of it over my tongue, a magic elixir that would quell this headache and soothe the ever-present desert at the back of my throat.

Without thinking, I drew the cup to my lips and downed it in one giant gulp. My fantasy was as good as reality with the swallow, my greedy stomach sucking it back with the enthusiasm of digesting a fine dining meal. It still held a vegetal taste, but it was the most delicious drink I’d ever had.

Relief, real or imagined, fluttered to the back of my skull while the water worked through my parched veins, the hit almost as soothing as a sip of fine whiskey.

I would never take a tap for granted again.

“Nikki! We’ll still need to boil it — that system doesn’t take out pathogens!” Marley’s protest held genuine fear.

Shit.

My gaze landed on the makeshift cup in my fist, my eyes widening in pure shock at my selfishness. What had I done?

Had anyone else done the same, I would fight the urge to slam them against a tree for their selfish desperation. I’d drunk the whole cup — two rations’ worth of water — with what little river water we had. Heat like molten metal spread across my skin.

The glare Madman issued shot daggers so sharp I could feel the slice of them. I’d witnessed the look many times in the last week, but it had never been sent in my direction. Still, he remained at his post at the adjacent tree, pouring carefully while Ambrose captured the cleaned contents.

My techy businessman didn’t offer his own glower, but the disappointment written into his delicate, smooth brows made my stomach ache. For once in my life, I was at a loss for words. I shoved the cup into Jamie’s palm and stepped back from the apparatus altogether.

“I’m s-my god, I am so sorry.” I sputtered meaningless apologies through gritted teeth, staring at the ground through the single unmarred lens, my ringlets shrouding my face but doing nothing to hide my regret.

Marley released a long breath and the sound whistled through the trees, mingling with the slow drip of water still trickling on the other side of her. Raising my head, I fixed my stare on the familiar forest green of her irises, relieved to see compassion instead of consternation.

“It’s all right, Nikki. We’ll get more water. But please, let me know if you get a stomachache, okay? I have no idea what’s in there, and the last thing we need is you getting sick.”