The sound of rushing water woke Zeb.
He lay motionless, memory returning.
Tavez. Sliding on rocks. Screaming. Yelling.
He blinked, trying to make out where he was.
Something soft beneath him.
He turned his head.
He was near the stream.
On the ground.
His jacket underneath him.
His shoulder almost numb with pain.
I took a knife.
He looked down. His T-shirt, what remained of it, was bloody. But the strapping on his wounds seemed to be new.
‘I used Tavez’s clothes.’ Sara stood over him. Dark hollows under her eyes. Her fingers twisting. Clenching and unclenching.
‘I didn’t know if you would …’ She swallowed.
Zeb tried to lift an arm. It felt heavy.
Darkness claimed him again.
The sun had set when he woke again.
He was lying where he had been earlier. Next to the flowing water.
Wisps of smoke assailed his nose.
He propped himself up slowly, gritting his teeth.
Sara was bent over a small fire. Holding a stick over it. Pieces of meat skewered on it.
Her smile, when she looked at him, was like the sun rising.
She helped him stand and took him to the water.
Stood by him as he bent and washed his face. Drank from the stream.
Cool, cool water that went inside.
Life.
‘Thank you.’
She brushed his words away.
‘You must be hungry.’
He was.
He bit into the pieces of meat. They were still raw. But he wouldn’t trade them for the finest cuisine.
Strength returned. With it, awareness.
He got to his feet.
Tested his left leg and arm.
They felt like red-hot pokers were buried in them.
Deal with it.
He dealt with it in his usual way.
Went deep inside his mind.
To the white drawers that were rarely opened.
Many of them contained memories. Of laughter, blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks.
He opened an empty one.
Swept the agony into it and slid the drawer back.
And returned to the present.
‘Where is he?’
‘There. Behind the rocks. I dragged him away when you were out. Removed his clothing for your dressing.’
Her voice was matter-of-fact.
I have lived an adult life. He recollected her words.
He inspected his weapons. The HKs and the M24 had survived the fight with Tavez. They were badly scratched and their stocks had a couple of dents, but they were serviceable.
His Glocks and knives were intact.
I had no time to draw any weapon. He was on me so fast.
He stripped and started cleaning them.
‘We head home tomorrow, ma’am.’
‘Dad. I would like to find his …’
‘I will come back, ma’am. Once you are safe.’
‘You can hardly walk. You need to see a doctor.’
‘I have been injured worse. The next campers we come across, we’ll take their help.
‘What about Namir?’
‘He will have to wait.’
‘If he doesn’t?’
‘Then he can meet Tavez.’