Across the Water

Chapter 5

144 Hours

Twelve

After Lisa and I spent an hour panicking when Nine threw up last night—and after an hour of his annoyance at our panic—we've all agreed that today we'll make a plan to go find his grandmother. But right now it's morning and I'm highly anticipating Lisa's waking. Waking up with her in my arms is such a treat. Her head is buried in my chest, and just thinking about it makes my heart race to the point where I hope its thudding doesn't wake her up prematurely, though I am excited for the day to get started.

She starts to stir, then yawns widely but grimaces suddenly. She pushes me away with a look of repugnance on her face. "You stink!"

I raise my eyebrows. "Good morning to you, too," I tease.

"I can't take it anymore. We need to find somewhere to bathe. Today makes—" she counts on her fingers "—five days. Washing our clothes would be nice, too." She sits up and fingers her greasy hair, cringing.

I glance around my tent and notice our clothes strewn around the tent into untidy piles. The tent gets direct summer sunlight and I'm sure having the tent turn into a greenhouse doesn't help the smell. Having two people sleeping in a one-man tent probably contributes to the problem. It could stand to be aired out and cleaned up.

"Okay," I agree "Finding the lake will be a good thing anyway. It'll be on our way." The stuffiness in here isn't making me feel so great and I can feel some sort of drumming in my brain. I stand up and unzip the tent flap to let in fresh air, which carries the dreamy smells of nature. The way the morning light I let in makes my brain flare in pain does not leave me feeling refreshed. When I gasp in shock, Lisa asks if I'm alright, but I wave her off.
Nine is already awake, as usual. He looks shaky but continues to cook.

I run over to him, frustrated. "No, no way am I letting you do that. You threw up all over me yesterday, you need to rest. Let me do that." I move between him and the camping stove to block his efforts.

He tries to shoulder past me. "You'll mess it up!"

I block him with an outstretched arm. "It's camping food, how hard can it be? Go back to bed."

"Why do you think I've cooked literally every day of our lives? It's because you can't cook worth shit and I don't want to us eat terrible food!" He lunges again.

"At least go sit on the ground six feet away and wrap yourself in a blanket. You can micromanage all you want from there."

I turn my attention the stove as he grudgingly stalks away. I pick up the box and look for the directions. I twiddle the knobs on the stove and hope that I have them on the right setting. Or maybe their previous settings were correct? I set them back to what they were. But then one of the burners goes out. Oh God, oh God. I rummage in the cooking tub and find a spare gas canister. I screw it in a wait nervously for a flame to spark up, but one never does.

"You need a match," Nine tells me irritably.

"Yeah, um, I was getting to that." I say, sweating.

He struggles to get up. "You're a mess."

"No, stay there, I'm fine," I try convincing him. I find the matches and successfully get a flame back on the stove. "I've got everything under control."

It's a slow start, but I manage to get a meal on the metaphorical table for all three of us. After, Lisa does the dishes, I clean up the cooking supplies, and Nine continues to eye us suspiciously while I continually remind him to rest.