thirty-six

                                    

                                          
"We need to find shelter," Wyler shouts over the loud rumbling thunder, which has grown in intensity in just a few minutes time.
                          
I look around, desperately searching the stark landscape for any sort of refuge from the storm. About 50 yards away, I spot a rock formation with an overhanging. It looks like a shallow cave.
                          
"Over there," I say, pointing to the pile of rocks. "It's not great, but it will have to do."
                          
We hustle through the shrubbery and my legs sustain several more sharp cuts. I wince at the pain, but push past it. We have to get to the rocks before the storm hits. A throbbing sensation spreads through my calf as blood drips into my shoe, but it's the least of my concerns. I'm more worried that I might step on a rattlesnake or some other unfriendly desert creature. Compared to a run-in with a venomous snake, my bloody calf doesn't seem like such a big deal.
                          
Raindrops fall lightly as we make our way to the covering. The cave isn't deep, just about 10 feet or so, but it's enough to keep us dry. Wyler grabs a pile of shrubs on his way in before they get too wet. It's good thinking on his part. We could be here for a while and the shrubs will make good kindling should we need to start a fire. They'll burn fast though, hopefully not faster than it takes Lex to find us.
                          
Lightning flickers and thunder cracks as the rain falls faster and harder. I stand in the opening, assessing the situation. It's not just the clouds causing the sky to darken; soon, it will be night. We've been walking nearly all day. A cold breeze whips through the cracks in the rocks. The sweltering daytime temperature is quickly turning into a very chilly desert night. 
                          
"Something's wrong," I say. "She should be back by now."
                          
"Maybe she didn't pick up on your Corn Nut trail, Sherlock," he laughs at his own joke. "Bet you wish you had that cell phone right about now."
                          
I roll my eyes at his sarcasm.
                          
"She knew we were headed towards the mountains and with that crevasse, this is the only direction we could have gone. She should have caught up with us by now. I have a bad feeling."
                          
"Well there's nothing we can do about it now. Come on, I'll get a fire started."
                          
"Maybe we should wait and save the little kindling we have. It could be a while and the coldest part of the night won't hit for many hours."
                          
"Based on what I've seen so far, nothing has taken a while. We might as well take advantage of the fire while we can. I'd like to be warm before I have to run for my life, yet again."
                          
He gathers some loose rocks and makes a small fire ring while I search the backpack for one of the lighters we took from the gas station. I pray it's in there and as luck would have it, it is. It's the first time I'm thankful for Lex's nasty cigarette habit. I gather what other sticks and shrubs I can find in the surrounding area that haven't yet been soaked. The fire lights easily and within minutes it's roaring and crackling at our feet. We sit next to one another in the dirt. Wyler wraps the blanket around both our shoulders. He pulls me close to him and my heart beats faster.
                          
"Geez Ever, what happened to your legs?"
                          
I look down at the scrapes covering my calves and shins. The glow from the fire illuminates the blood that has dripped down and pooled in my socks. I had almost forgotten about the pain, until he reminded me.
                          
"I'm okay. It could be worse," I reply, trying to downplay my bloody limbs.
                          
"It could also be better." He grabs the backpack. "Didn't Lex steal practically an entire pharmacy back at that gas station?"
                          
Again, I find myself thankful for Lex's bad habits. Luckily, it wasn't just drugs that she grabbed. Wyler finds some rubbing alcohol and pours it on my wounds. I flinch at the stinging sensation and instinctively grab his arm. He pauses, looking at my hand clenching his forearm. Our eyes meet briefly, then I hurry and let go, breaking the tension. He gently pats my legs dry with the only edge of the blanket that isn't covered in dirt.