Chapter 24
I wake up feeling rested and hopeful. With Ramsey out of the picture and plenty of supplies, I feel ready to take on the river and whatever it brings.
Keisha doesn’t look like she slept much, but she wakes easily enough and seems intent on leaving the boatel as fast as possible.
It takes multiple attempts to wake Lucia, though.
She grumbles when we shake her, begging for another hour of sleep.
It’s not like her at all. My worries from last night come back.
Is she just worn out, or is a third day with no medication starting to affect her?
Either way, there’s nothing I can do to help her.
We eat crackers and drink purified water as we pack the boat. We can’t take nearly as much as we want to. Our packs, the fishing poles, and a few bags full of dry pantry items are all we can squeeze in. By the time we’re packed, my shirt is nearly soaked through. It’s already hot as hell.
Keisha clears out a tiny nest at the bottom of the canoe and tells Lucia to climb in and get some more rest. She does without hesitation. Then we shove the canoe into the water, jump in, and let the current take us away from the boatel.
We float downstream for hours. We take turns pouring the cool river water onto our skin, but it seems to evaporate before we find any real relief. It doesn’t take long for the sun to start to get to me. I silently wish for sunglasses, but some sunblock or a hat sure would be nice too.
“I can feel my skin burning off my body,” I complain.
“Sucks to be white,” Keisha teases, turning her face toward the sky and reaching her arms over her head like she’s actually enjoying the sun. Her deep brown skin hasn’t burned at all.
I crack a smile. “Please find me some sunscreen in the next house we loot.”
“I have an idea. Here, let me show you.” She puts down her paddle and reaches into my bag, taking out a long-sleeved T-shirt.
She lets the end of the T-shirt fall onto my back and then uses the empty arms to tie a knot up under my chin.
Then she pulls the empty neck of the T-shirt forward over my forehead.
She digs around in my backpack again, then pulls out the folded map of Naples that Ramsey made and shoves it between the top of my head and the T-shirt, creating a makeshift hat bill.
I laugh out loud when it actually works. I must look ridiculous.
“Keisha, you’re a genius,” I say, laughing.
Her fingers trace the edge of my cheek. “You look gorgeous!” she teases.
I can feel myself blush and hope my sunburn covers it up.
“Very funny,” I say, brushing her off.
A bird caws loudly overhead, and Lucia looks up sleepily from her nest in the bottom of the boat before squeezing her eyes shut again.
“How are you feeling, Lucia?” I ask as I paddle.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“It’s been a while since you had your meds,” I say cautiously.
I know meds are a touchy subject for a lot of us.
Some of the girls back at the center really hated having to take them.
I know I did. Some girls tried to hide what they were taking, afraid the rest of us would judge them.
Some would brag about who needed the highest dose.
Some, like Keisha, flushed theirs down the toilet every day.
I didn’t even pay attention to Lucia’s habits at the Pegasus Center.
She had only been there for about a month before everything went upside down.
I’m not really sure how she feels about taking her meds or how severe her diagnosis was.
“I know,” she says quietly. I wait to see if she’ll say more, but she doesn’t. I look to Keisha for help.
“Are you feeling any different yet?” Keisha asks. Lucia’s eyes shine with just a hint of unshed tears.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, picking at her fingernails in her lap.
Shit. I don’t have to read her chart to know what I’m looking at. Now that it’s staring me in the face, I realize I’ve been seeing it for days now. She’s had less energy. She’s been sleeping more. She’s stopped contributing to our discussions. Shit.
Depression is a tough diagnosis. It’s not like it’s rare.
It was listed in just about everybody’s chart, even mine at first, but when depression is bad, it’s really bad.
I’ve seen it kick the crap out of some tough people, turning them into lifeless, joyless shells of themselves for no other reason than their brain decided to stop making the right chemicals in the right proportions.
I also know that no amount of trying to cheer someone up helps.
This is bad. Mentally, I move finding Lucia’s meds to the top of my list.
As the afternoon approaches, the sun becomes a little more bearable, but it’s too late.
The heat and the sun have sucked every ounce of energy and water from our bodies.
We have plenty of daylight left, but I feel like I can’t paddle another minute.
We agree to pull the boat to shore and camp for the night.
We find a low area to pull the boat ashore.
With the riverbank at my back, I patrol the trees with my machete, looking for wandering carriers and picking up a few pieces of firewood along the way.
The place we chose is dead quiet except for the insects, but I go deeper into the woods that line the river, just to be sure we’re alone.
I step over dead leaves, snapping branches under my boots, and I cringe at every sound, but nothing moves, so I keep walking deeper.
Just beyond the trees, a levee rises up, meant to keep the river from flooding the surrounding fields.
It’s tall and steep and would be very difficult for a carrier to climb quickly.
For us, the giant hill could mean a shelter, keeping us out of immediate reach.
I lay the firewood I’ve been collecting on the ground and climb to the top of the levee, using my hands and my feet to find purchase up the steep hill.
When I get to the top, I find cornfields with hip-high plants stretching as far as I can see.
In the distance, I think I can see small shapes that could be a farmhouse and a barn, but I’m not sure.
I blink hard and squint and once again wish for a pair of binoculars.
I give up and shuffle back down the levee toward Keisha, picking up my pile of firewood at the base of the hill.
“I think I found a great spot for us to sleep tonight,” I say, dumping the firewood on the ground. “There’s a big levee through those trees. I’m pretty sure we’d be safe at the top. Maybe we can all sleep at the same time and skip guard shifts,” I suggest.
“Thank god,” Keisha says with a groan. “I feel like I got hit by a truck. What do you think, Lu?” Keisha says, trying to keep her engaged in the conversation.
“Sounds good.” She tries a little too hard to force energy into her voice.
Keisha flashes a worried look my way, but there’s nothing we can do except try to keep her involved.
Keisha recruits Lucia to build us a fire, and I haul more water to be boiled.
In an hour, we have drinkable water and something resembling a meal.
We eat, wash our bowls, and then get to work on setting up our camp.
We use our last bits of energy to hide the canoe under long leafy branches and carry our packs up the levee.
The last minutes of sun light up the sky with a purple-pink hue. I squint again at the little shapes beyond the fields. “Hey, do you think that’s a house?” I ask Keisha.
Her eyes graze across the horizon, and I can see the moment she finds it. “Definitely.”
“I don’t think it would take long for us to walk there. We should check it out. There might be some good supplies. Maybe even some medicine.” I say the last part quietly so Lucia won’t hear.
“It’s risky to be out in the open like that. Those things are so fast. Let’s sleep on it and decide in the morning. I can’t think anymore,” Keisha says with a yawn.
We curl up in our blankets at the top of the levee and sleep until dawn.