It’s hot. So hot. I feel as though someone messed with the sun and made it explode right above our heads. My sweat evaporates the moment it touches my skin. You’d think there’d be shade when you’re surrounded by giant cliffs on either side, but no. Nothing. Not so much as a tree or bush either. Amy, stumbling along beside me, looks worse than ever. She’s having even more trouble than I am standing the heat. Her lips were blistered long before mine and there’s a raspy sound every time she breathes in, like someone is rubbing sandpaper down her throat.
It’s all my fault too. If not for me, she’d be home right now, drinking fresh water and eating ice-cream by the pool. I was such an idiot. I have to force myself not to dwell on it. It’s sapping what little strength I have left, and I’m going to need every ounce if we’re to get back alive.
Worse than the beating sun and lack of air is the thirst. We haven’t had anything to drink for at least two days, if not longer. The little water I'd managed to bring when we escaped is long gone.
“Do you… remember… how it felt, diving, into. A cold pool?” Amy asks, struggling to speak. I nod wearily.
“It was like … like heaven.”
“I’m … trying to imagine … I’m there now. Swimming. And Diving. All the way, to the bottom.”
I stop and turn to her.
“Ice-cream … dripping with caramel, and chocolate … sounds better. Or a water-gun. Fight.”
That gets a smile out of her. A small one, true, but still. It’s been too long since either of us relaxed enough.
“Typical boy. Always. With the … the fighting. I'd beat you anyway.”
I grin. Speech is becoming a little easier as we rest.
“Not … with the state you’re in now.” I tease.
“You-aren’t, much better, you know.”
I sink down, back to the canyon wall, and shut my eyes against the white glare of the sun. Amy follows suit.
“I’m sorry about all this. I never … I never meant for it to go this far.” I whisper.
She drops her head on my shoulder, too exhausted to care about the fact that I haven’t showered in weeks.
“Don’t you dare … take all of the credit. I was … just as stupid.” she mumbles, yawning. In another moment, we’re both fast asleep.
Evening brings us a welcome break from the heat. We’ve walked far today, and even if our feet are blistered and our heads ache, it’s been worth it. We’re that much closer to our goal. A phone … and freedom.
“Do you think they’re still looking for us?” Amy asks suddenly, a strange note in her voice. I shrug.
“I dunno. Probably. They didn’t seem like the type of guys who’d give up easily.”
“I meant your parents, Finn, and mine.”
“Oh.” is all I can manage to say. It’s not that I don’t know the answer. It would be easy to reassure her, tell her everything’s gonna be alright, that we’ll be found long before we die of thirst or hunger, or more likely both. The problem is that the words won’t come. I won’t lie to her. Not again. Because the truth is … I don’t believe they are. We’ve been missing for at least three weeks, maybe more. I’ve lost track of time. However long it’s been, it’s too much. I feel it in my gut and in my bones. We’re on our own. How am I supposed to tell her that? As though she’s guessed my thoughts anyway, Amy suddenly breaks into sobs. It’s weird, how all this time, she’s been so strong, so positive and hopeful, and now that I’ve taken the lead, she cracks. I’ll never understand women. It hurts to see that, by now, we’re so thirsty, no tears even wet her cheeks. It’s like every drop of water inside and out has evaporated.
I do my best to comfort her, but I have no idea how to really go about it, so I just sort of pat her awkwardly on the back. When that doesn’t work and the gut-wrenching sobs keep coming, I put an arm around her shoulders. Amy buries herself in my arms, pressing her face against my chest. And then, for the first time in my teenage life, I’m crying too. In a very manly way, of course. Like Bruce Willis would have in Die hard if his wife had died. Something like that.
Home seems so far, so impossible to reach all of a sudden. In all likelihood we’re going to die here, alone and forgotten. Every bone in my body revolts at the idea. I won’t let it happen. I won’t! We have to live. We have to make it.
“Whatever happens, I promise I’ll get you home, Amy. I promise. This whole mess is my fault and I swear to you I’ll fix it if it’s the last thing I do.” I tell her, whispering close to her ear. The sobs quiet a little.
“I-just-want it-to-stop. I want-to wake-up-and-realize it was all-a bad dream.” she hiccups, clinging to me as though I’m her lifeline. I lean my head on top of hers. She’s nearly a full head shorter than me, though far from fragile. Any other girl from school would have snapped a long time ago. My Amy has a strength no one could ever match. I’d give my life for her.
It’s all my fault too. If not for me, she’d be home right now, drinking fresh water and eating ice-cream by the pool. I was such an idiot. I have to force myself not to dwell on it. It’s sapping what little strength I have left, and I’m going to need every ounce if we’re to get back alive.
Worse than the beating sun and lack of air is the thirst. We haven’t had anything to drink for at least two days, if not longer. The little water I'd managed to bring when we escaped is long gone.
“Do you… remember… how it felt, diving, into. A cold pool?” Amy asks, struggling to speak. I nod wearily.
“It was like … like heaven.”
“I’m … trying to imagine … I’m there now. Swimming. And Diving. All the way, to the bottom.”
I stop and turn to her.
“Ice-cream … dripping with caramel, and chocolate … sounds better. Or a water-gun. Fight.”
That gets a smile out of her. A small one, true, but still. It’s been too long since either of us relaxed enough.
“Typical boy. Always. With the … the fighting. I'd beat you anyway.”
I grin. Speech is becoming a little easier as we rest.
“Not … with the state you’re in now.” I tease.
“You-aren’t, much better, you know.”
I sink down, back to the canyon wall, and shut my eyes against the white glare of the sun. Amy follows suit.
“I’m sorry about all this. I never … I never meant for it to go this far.” I whisper.
She drops her head on my shoulder, too exhausted to care about the fact that I haven’t showered in weeks.
“Don’t you dare … take all of the credit. I was … just as stupid.” she mumbles, yawning. In another moment, we’re both fast asleep.
Evening brings us a welcome break from the heat. We’ve walked far today, and even if our feet are blistered and our heads ache, it’s been worth it. We’re that much closer to our goal. A phone … and freedom.
“Do you think they’re still looking for us?” Amy asks suddenly, a strange note in her voice. I shrug.
“I dunno. Probably. They didn’t seem like the type of guys who’d give up easily.”
“I meant your parents, Finn, and mine.”
“Oh.” is all I can manage to say. It’s not that I don’t know the answer. It would be easy to reassure her, tell her everything’s gonna be alright, that we’ll be found long before we die of thirst or hunger, or more likely both. The problem is that the words won’t come. I won’t lie to her. Not again. Because the truth is … I don’t believe they are. We’ve been missing for at least three weeks, maybe more. I’ve lost track of time. However long it’s been, it’s too much. I feel it in my gut and in my bones. We’re on our own. How am I supposed to tell her that? As though she’s guessed my thoughts anyway, Amy suddenly breaks into sobs. It’s weird, how all this time, she’s been so strong, so positive and hopeful, and now that I’ve taken the lead, she cracks. I’ll never understand women. It hurts to see that, by now, we’re so thirsty, no tears even wet her cheeks. It’s like every drop of water inside and out has evaporated.
I do my best to comfort her, but I have no idea how to really go about it, so I just sort of pat her awkwardly on the back. When that doesn’t work and the gut-wrenching sobs keep coming, I put an arm around her shoulders. Amy buries herself in my arms, pressing her face against my chest. And then, for the first time in my teenage life, I’m crying too. In a very manly way, of course. Like Bruce Willis would have in Die hard if his wife had died. Something like that.
Home seems so far, so impossible to reach all of a sudden. In all likelihood we’re going to die here, alone and forgotten. Every bone in my body revolts at the idea. I won’t let it happen. I won’t! We have to live. We have to make it.
“Whatever happens, I promise I’ll get you home, Amy. I promise. This whole mess is my fault and I swear to you I’ll fix it if it’s the last thing I do.” I tell her, whispering close to her ear. The sobs quiet a little.
“I-just-want it-to-stop. I want-to wake-up-and-realize it was all-a bad dream.” she hiccups, clinging to me as though I’m her lifeline. I lean my head on top of hers. She’s nearly a full head shorter than me, though far from fragile. Any other girl from school would have snapped a long time ago. My Amy has a strength no one could ever match. I’d give my life for her.