"Ha ha. No. We're all going. Who knows if she is held hostage by psycho girl ninjas hiding in that shack of hers, who are waiting for us to come so that they can throw their ninja-star blades on us. Or slice us in a clean half from our waist in one...
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ADELAIDE
My throat is dry and sore; every lungful of hot hair robs more water from my body. There is a pain at the back of my head that threatens to grow into a powerful migraine, a sure sign that dehydration isn't far away. It I had a litre of water right now I'd drain the whole thing, but I have none.
I'm gonna die.
None of us say anything anymore, just force our legs to keep moving forward.
My vision is swimming and my body is becoming heavier with every passing second. I keep seeing a patch of water far away but I know that it is just a mirage.
Even the cacti looked like they are about to die.
My eyes burnt with raw dust flying into my eyes and my throat is parched, but I won't use my water. We have far too less water for far to much to travel.
I was trying to entertain myself as I counted the number of footprints on the sand that I made and the number of cacti I saw , when a sudden hysterical yell stopped me on my tracks. Frypan is flailing his arms around, pointing at the distant figures that is coming closer.
"Are those...people?" I say, standing on my toes to see above the heads of these giant-like tall boys.
"A head, four limbs. Walking on hind. I think they are dinosaurs." Winston says sarcastically.
"Pack in tighter." Minho snaps everyone from their daze. "And get ready to fight if something happens." My body tenses as we all pack in a dense circle of sweaty bodies and rancid stench of heat. We all keep Beatrix in the circle, protecting the girl, who kept protesting, asking us to let her see too. I try not to think and contort my face into my signature stone faced facade.
Are they cranks?
The two figures stops about a few feet away from us. One of them is a male and another is a female. Both are tall and scrawny. Their heads and bodies are completely mummified in their tattered, grimy wrappings, once-beige in color. Small slits are torn for them to see and breath through.
Their clothes are filthy and haphazardly sewn together with different patches of fabric. Nothing is exposed to the beating sun other than their hands, which are red, blotchy, and scabby.
The two of them stand there, panting after running for so long in the blistering heat.
"Who are you?" Minho demands. Instead of answering the two of them split apart and begin circling around us in a broad circle, like predators sizing up their prey before devouring on them. A chill runs down my spine. Minho shifts slightly, covering me from their view.
I can feel the tension rising in me when I could no longer see the both of them.
I keep my senses sharp, forcing myself to hear their footsteps on the sand, above my pounding heart. My hand find the wrist of the little girl.
