Chapter 17 #3
Levi stifled a laugh, and they fell silent.
I could only assume I was to blame for Tristian’s lack of sleep.
Levi said the offer stands like they had discussed this after night one or two.
But Tristian’s breaths slowly evened out, my hair fluttering with each exhale.
His free hand rested across his ribs, his other hand barely skimming against my shoulder, the touch featherlight.
His deep breaths were soothing, comforting in a way I forgot could exist. It was intoxicating.
I should have pulled away, released Tristian and let him sleep.
I was a selfish, horrible person, so I didn’t. With snores and deep breaths as my only witnesses, I pressed closer, relishing the warmth—perhaps more than the warmth.
I slept peacefully.
I was cold. That was my first thought upon waking. I hurtled upright; the feel of Tristian’s warmth against me had unleashed different dreams. My cheeks heated against the turn my dreams had taken, my core too tight.
Flashes of my fantasies assaulted me. Fingers interwoven in soft curls. A searing mouth blazing a path across my navel, journeying lower. Burning green eyes watching me as fingers slipped beneath fabric.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Damien greeted, snapping me from my ravine. He sat cross-legged on the mat while he ate breakfast. Rumi meditated behind him. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” I muttered as the door to above opened. Weak sunlight filled the dark room as Ingrid, Isla, Levi, Tristian, and Patrick all came in.
Those same green eyes met mine, and I was drowning again. I want you, I had uttered again and again in the dream. How do you want me, Sasha? Tell me. My heart found my throat, and I shifted uncomfortably.
“You good?” Damien asked, nudging me.
What was I doing? I pushed the dreams aside, or tried to, as Tristian turned away. “I’m fine. How’d you sleep?”
“Like a babe,” Damien told me. “Patrick was a wonderful big spoon.” He shot Patrick a wink, grinning ear to ear. I was relieved to hear that the levity had found its way back to him.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“You initiated, McFumbles,” Damien teased.
“I was cold.”
Tristian entered the closet, returning a second later with a rolled paper.
“Need to go, Sasha?” Rumi asked, making her way to the stairs.
“Yeah.” I stood.
“I have my question,” Levi told the unit.
Rumi stopped. “Let’s hear it.”
“Little spoon or big spoon?” Levi asked, his face all serious. Isla laughed from the mat where she stretched. Everyone chimed in their answers.
“Little,” Isla said.
“Big,” Patrick stated.
“Clearly. Depends on the spooner.” Damien grinned. “I’m flexible.”
“Hayes, Sasha?” Levi asked.
“Big spoon,” Tristian said, dropping to his knees as he unfurled the paper on the mat, grabbing random things to weigh down the edges. Patrick drifted over toward him.
“I’m not much of a cuddler,” I said, face burning.
Levi took a bite of freeze-dried fruit. “That so?”
I glared at him.
“I’m leaving,” Rumi informed me as she pushed the door open. I followed Rumi up the stairs.
“What about you, Levi?” Damien asked.
“Little spoon, every day.”
“I can see that.”
The door shut behind me, trapping in the noise. Rumi remained silent the entire time, clearly disappointed in Levi’s question. It should have been easy to answer, yet it wasn’t for me. I had never stayed long enough for anyone to hold me.
It was more than that. I hadn’t joined my siblings at night when they held each other during the war. I had been too busy keeping watch, too intent on surviving to rest. Even before, it hadn’t felt right. I didn’t know how to be held.
Embarrassment flared once more. I had latched onto Tristian the moment I had dozed off.
“Ready?” Rumi asked. I agreed, following her quietly. We entered to find everyone gathered around the drawing Tristian had laid out on the ground.
“Come on, starting the brief,” Tristian told us. I walked to Levi, taking a seat between Damien and him. It was a map—a poorly drawn one. The map resembled a school project—several different handwritings adorned the doodles of the landscape, with the word Abyss written up top in a slanted scrawl.
“Right, Kaleo didn’t add any notes to the log,” Tristian told us, gesturing to a notebook in his lap, “or to the map. Henderson thoroughly recounted every finding Unit Twelve encountered before the last storm sent them back. Based on his information, I have broken the Abyss into segments.” He showed the lines he had added to the map.
“That’s more territory than we usually cover,” Patrick stated, staring at the map.
“It is,” Tristian confirmed, raking a hand through his hair. “The weather is stable.”
“That’s a lot of ground, Hayes,” Ingrid said, wrapping her makeshift bandanna around her head. Something silver glinted on the fabric.
“We only have five days,” Isla added.
“Seven if we ration,” Rumi said, making the same calculation Levi had last night while everyone slept.
“Even with seven days, it’s too much,” Patrick professed. “How are we going to cover that much ground, Hayes?”
Tristian met Levi’s determined stare. “We can cover twice as much ground without the suits.”
“You want us to go out without our gear?” Damien asked quietly. Isla bit her lip as if stopping herself from adding something.
“We’d move faster,” Rumi contemplated, looking at the map.
“But we would be more exposed,” Patrick countered. “We don’t know how far the low radiation reading stretches.”
“What was the reading this morning outside here?” Levi asked.
“Thirty-three,” Patrick answered.
“According to Henderson’s notes, it was fifteen by the river,” Rumi stated, looking at the notebook.
“There are still risks,” Isla whispered.
“Risks we won’t live long enough to see if we don’t find more supplies,” Levi said fiercely. “Either scenario, the outcome is the same. The clock is ticking. I’d rather actively chase my death than wait for it.”
Everyone grew quiet.
“Look, I’ve never asked any of you to do something that puts you at unnecessary risk,” Tristian said.
“But this is the job. We need the supplies. If you’re uncomfortable with this call, I want to hear it.
” No one said anything. Faces slowly steeled over.
His consideration for their safety shifted something among them.
“Haven is running out of time, we all know that. I don’t want to see war break out.
I don’t want to see people suffer, but I don’t want to see any of you sacrifice any more than you already have.
If you want to wear your suit, I support your choice.
I won’t be in my suit, though. I want to end this. ”
Partners shared looks before returning to their commander.
“We’re with you, Hayes,” Damien said, grabbing Isla’s hand.
Rumi and Patrick agreed. “Let’s end it.”
Tristian looked at his partner. Ingrid had family below—someone to fight for but also someone to live for when this was over. But she didn’t hesitate as she nodded at him, her hand resting on her bandanna.
Tristian’s eyes found mine. I met them. “It’d cost me time taking it off if any of you needed care,” I said. What did I have to lose with the risk? I had already lost everything. I wasn’t willing to fail again.
Tristian’s eyes gutted. Levi didn’t wait; he told Tristian what I already knew. “I’m with you.”
“Okay, we leave the suits,” Tristian told us all. “Buddy, Sunshine, you’re taking the southern section away from the river. Eagle, McFumbles, the northern section. Henderson marked a passable section with downed trees. Medusa and I will take the western section.”
The farthest section from the outpost.
“Cadell and Raven, eastern,” Tristian told the group, the closest to the outpost. “If anything goes wrong, the medic isn’t far.”
Unease dripped into my gut.
“I’ll be too far away from you all if something goes wrong,” I said. “I need time to be able to get to you. You brought me for trauma care. I can’t do that if we split up.” I ran down the items in my bag. Could I divide them? No, I knew that before I even posed the question.
“We all know basics. The idea is we stabilize until you get there,” Tristian stated.
“That’s not good enough,” I countered as my mind played out scenarios and how long I’d have to get there, how fast I’d have to run. What if I didn’t make it in time?
Levi’s hand rested on my knee. “It has to be.”
“Medusa, Buddy, take it away,” Tristian said.
Ingrid emptied a bag on the mat, and ancient-looking walkie-talkies landed on the map as Damien addressed us.
“We’re going in dark. Medusa and I, with the help of Unit Twelve, were able to locate these.
The radios work, but they are old. Don’t rely on them too heavily. It won’t be like the helmets.”
My brows pulled in. “How will I know if someone needs help if we can’t rely on the walkie-talkies?”
“Radios, Cadell,” Damien groaned. “You can’t call them walkie-talkies. You’re in the Force now.”
“Who’s going to hear me call them walkie-talkies? No one’s here but us,” I shot back. Levi chuckled.
“Protocol, Cadell, and pride.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Tristian interrupted. “Show us how they work so we can move out.”
Damien and Ingrid gave a quick rundown. Twenty minutes later, I stood dressed in layers from my pack, my father’s weapons strapped to me, as well as my Force-issued pistol.
The paste and freeze-dried food I had scarfed down created a concoction that congealed heavily in my stomach.
The others moved around, slowly filtering out.
I snagged a wrap and a bottle from the med bag before Levi grabbed it and headed up.
“Damien, I have a question about the walk—radios,” I called. Damien pulled away from Isla, and the rest of the unit made their way out.
“What’s up?” he asked, walking toward me.
“Take your boot off,” I instructed as I dropped to my knees.