Heat is all there is. Heat is all around me, in the trees, in the birds in the air, in the mud on my shoes, in
Something changes and my vision is so fuzzy I can barely tell, but my feet slow to a stop and
“We have antibiotics.” I shrug off my pack and open it. I squeeze my hand between a bag of crackers and one of chocolate. Beneath that, I just feel the box. I just barely skim its wooden surface with my fingertip. I can see it, black, behind my eyes. I can feel it in my teeth. I lift my finger off and push deeper down in the sack and grab the plastic bottle. I pull it out and start counting pills in the palm of my hand.
“Those won’t do him right.” Sour-Dick is kneeling beside
“Can he keep going?” I say.
“Not for much longer, not without medicine.”
“Hey, buddy,” Sour-Dick says to
“Are you fucking nuts? We can’t wait.”
“No. We can’t keep going like this.”
“We have to or we die and there’s no point.”
I look at
“But that’s the only place we can get
“Am I fucking dreaming this? We’re going to die if we stay here much longer and you’re thinking about going back?”
“We have to go back. I’m not leaving this island without the three of us. If you want to keep going to the shore, then you’ll do it alone.”
“I can’t do it. We’re so lucky that we made it out alive. I can’t go back. I can’t go back there.”
“But we have to. Don’t you see? It’s the only thing to do. We have to go back to
The hill above us is steep and I think that they’re already up there, in the trees, coming down on us and thinking of us as ghosts who haven’t realized they’re dead yet.