Curtain Call (The Jewel Project #7)

18. Strategy

Against all odds, Kyle actually managed to fall asleep and rest instead of just passing out from the pain. He'd tried not to, aware that Snitch Gravel had proved there was no trust lost between them, but he couldn't be alert forever and they did agree on a truce.

Resting was miraculous. Once he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he became aware that the pain in his muscles had dimmed considerably. His cuts were almost fully healed now, and when he sat up, his head didn't pound and his stomach didn't churn. It was too good to be true, really. And he appeared to be alone.

"What the...?" he mumbled.

But once he took in his surroundings, he noticed that Snitch Gravel was still there. He'd slumped against a tree trunk, the gun held loosely in his hand, his chin against his chest, fast asleep.

Kyle's first impulse was to groan and roll his eyes. A lot of help he was, falling asleep on the job. But then again, Snitch Gravel must have been exhausted, too, looking out for him for so long. They needed to start taking turns and looking out for each other if they wanted to survive. The thought was so disconcerting, Kyle was tempted to just close his eyes, go back to sleep, and hope he'd wake up in his own bed next time.

Bur reality sucked, so he walked over, took the gun, and lay Snitch Gravel down, with his head on his rucksack. Kyle glanced at it and fought the impulse to check inside and see if he had more weapons and supplies. The first rule of trust was to not go through the other's stuff.

The second rule was to let people actually rest. So he'd give Snitch Gravel an hour in which he'd take care of himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had food or water, and he was very aware that he had to start eating and drinking again. Excruciatingly slow. But first, he'd practice walking.

It was maybe a twisted form of blessing that he'd seen how long it took Sam to recover after the coma, so he wasn't shocked to find that he was terribly uncoordinated. Thankfully, unlike Sam, he had magical snowflake serum which allowed his muscles to respond much faster.

So he began pacing around their camp, making the circle bigger each time, rolling his shoulders, testing his joints, even aiming a few hits at the air. Yep, he wasn't completely useless. With a bit more practice, he could still throw a punch or two. It hurt, but it wasn't a pain he couldn't handle.

Next, he took out a bottle of water and, while still walking around, he took tiny sips. It was like trying to force down alcohol all over again, but he managed to drink without throwing up which had to count for something. Then he moved to food. He knew he had some oat biscuits in his survival kit, so he took one out and bit on it gingerly. Once his stomach didn't twist in protest, he spent the following minutes nibbling on the biscuit and drinking water.

He couldn't remember every feeling so frail in his life, but he should be grateful that he was actually alive. Too bad he couldn't remember why. As he walked in larger circles, he tried to remember what had happened after the wall and the spikes had pressed in on him. He couldn't remember a trap door, a tunnel, climbing out. All he could remember was water and pain.

But this wasn't all that important. What killed him was that he had no idea what happened to the others. To Kay. The last thing he knew, they'd rushed away to the sound of destruction. He'd heard their running footsteps moving away. They must've gotten out. Most likely without the jewel. Not that it mattered anymore. That thing was buried, and unless someone came with excavators, he didn't see a way to go through all that rubble.

Speaking of which... He stopped and stared at his feet. He'd hit his boots against a solid slab of stone. It looked vaguely familiar. He crouched and ran his hand over it. There were deep carvings on its surface, jagged edges of what appeared to be a sun. It looked a lot like the same design they'd seen on the walls of the shrine. Even if he couldn't read it, it was still useful enough.