Chapter 22
Jackie walked beside Razorback in the hundred-and-four-degree heat, thinking about their conversation and not saying a word.
The sun was directly overhead like a broiler on a steak, the air so full of moisture the breeze from her movement wasn’t even refreshing.
There was only sweat and more sweat, her clothing saturated, her body wretchedly hot.
She wore lightweight camouflage clothing and a hat Cowboy had given her when he picked them up at the river. A pair of leg covers came up to her knees to protect her from poisonous snakes, an accessory she felt certain raised her body temperature exponentially.
The day was an abstract blur punctuated by brief periods of extreme clarity, from the cloyingly warm water of the black Rio Grande seeping between her life vest and her skin, to the smell of the dry sand baking beneath her feet.
And through it all was Razorback, ready to hand her the next thing she needed, always leading the charge, never saying anything that actually mattered about last night or what—if anything—had changed between them.
All along the trail was evidence of those who’d come before—empty water jugs, pieces of clothing. Jackie tried not to imagine the people who’d left them here, tried not to wonder if they were dead or alive.
“Do you need a break?” he asked.
She would have given up chocolate for life if she could sit down and put her feet up for an hour. “How’s our speed?”
“A little over a mile and a half an hour.”
Damn it. She was sure she’d sped up after the last time she’d asked. “We have to go faster.”
“You can only push your body as far as it will go.”
“Yeah?” She passed him. “Is that what they taught you in boot camp? Just give up?”
“Not boot camp. BUD/S. Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL.”
Even the smallest increase in her effort felt like she’d gone from a crawl to a full-out sprint. She felt faint. “But the message was the same. Quit.”
“We were taught to understand our own physical abilities and limits. Take you, for example. Right now, you’re determined to move as quickly as possible through the heat of the day. You haven’t had a drink in almost a mile, and you’re dehydrated. Are you dizzy?”
“No,” she lied.
“Are your legs cramping up? Because once they do, they’re going to hurt you the rest of the way.”
She should probably have some water. “They’re fine.”
“Ever hear of the tortoise and the hare?”
She stopped abruptly, putting her hands on her hips and dropping her head. “How many miles?”
“Eleven down, twenty-nine to go.”
She crumpled to the ground. “Oh, sweet mercy.”
He knelt beside her and passed her a straw from the water bladder in his pack. She sucked greedily at it, the liquid magically cool and wonderful. “Thank you.”
“We need food.” He took off the pack and unzipped a pocket. “I have peanuts, granola bars, or beef jerky.”
“Granola.” She bit into it, which tasted better than any food she’d eaten in her life. “It’s good.” She finished it in four bites and went back to the straw for more water. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.” He was just as sweaty as she, but other than that, he looked like this was no more difficult for him than an easy Sunday stroll. “I understand you’re frustrated.”
“Not frustrated. I’m scared, more than anything. I keep trying not to think so I don’t imagine what can go wrong.”
His head jerked to the side, his eyes staring into the distance.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Chopper. Move! Move! Move!”
Panic was intense and quick, spurring her into action. They ran hard toward an area of taller brush some hundred yards away, the distance leaving them exposed in the open for long seconds before reaching the cover of the trees.
She was gasping for breath when they got there, the sound of the rotors now clearly audible in the distance. “How far can they see?” she asked.
He put his arm around her shoulders, the first time he’d touched her all day.
“Far enough, but that doesn’t mean they did.
I give us a fifty-fifty chance on this one.
Get down on the ground.” He lay next to her as the chopper got closer and closer, the thump of its rotors seeming to drum on her lungs.
“Thanks for last night,” she yelled over the din.
“You’re telling me this now?”
“I might not have another chance.” Sand blew in her face and she ducked her head, covering herself as best she could with her hands. Razorback brought his arm around her face, too.
The noise got so loud she knew Border Patrol had spotted them and was hovering overhead. Any minute now agents would swoop in by car and take them into custody.
One minute stretched into the next, the sound violently intense as her exposed skin was pelted with sand.
This was it. They’d been caught just eleven miles into their journey, not even halfway.
There would be no scene at the Democratic National Convention, no scandal to knock Doug McGrath out of the presidential race.
There would be no peace.
No safety, no freedom, no hope.
“It’s moving away,” he yelled in her ear.
Was it? She lifted her head and squinted her eyes to see.
There was less noise, less sand blowing along the ground than there had been before.
She looked up, the chopper now past them and still going, and broke out in a huge smile.
“It’s moving away!” She squeezed him, Razorback seeming to hesitate before returning the embrace, but she was too elated to worry about that. “We’re going to make it, aren’t we?”
“Never doubted it for a moment.”
She stood with renewed energy, more determined than ever to complete their hike successfully no matter the physical challenge.
Her steps grew easier. She no longer noticed the heat, the humidity.
There was only the stumble and stride of her feet through the sand, the rhythmic sound of her breathing, and the steady progress gained by sheer force of will.
By the time they made camp for the night, she was exhausted. The sun was setting in the sky, its warm tones bathing the landscape in orange and gold, and she sat on a thin sleeping bag Razorback set out for her. “We’re going to make it,” she said again. She’d been saying it all day.
Razorback chuckled. “Remind me not to fuck with you.” He was strikingly handsome, the panoramic view of the valley below stretching up to the horizon behind him, and she smiled a tired smile.
He unlaced her shoes. “You don’t have to do that,” she said, but he slipped them off and removed her socks.
It felt oddly personal, especially strange given that they’d slept together.
She wiggled her toes, the freedom of movement feeling heavenly, and when he rubbed her arches, she thought she might die.
He gestured to the MRE he’d set out for her. “Eat your dinner before you fall asleep.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She was hungrier than she realized, her body insisting she devour the whole thing once she allowed it a single bite, but the moment she’d finished eating, it was a struggle to stay awake.
He cleaned up their garbage and packed it away, hanging his rucksack in a tree before lying down beside her. “Don’t fight it,” he said, opening his arm to her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
We’re going to make it.
She was out like a light.