Guns & Roses

Chapter 32

[Sanford]

Sanford groaned, gently moving Hank, who lay limp on his back, to prop him against a rock. He stretched, trying to un-stiffen his back and shoulders. Turning, he watched Deimos place 2B against another rock within arm's length, their arms were shaking, which was understandable. He'd hate to carry the radio gear and a person at the same time. They were followed by Sheriff, who'd wrapped up the remaining supplies they could salvage into a blanket, dropping it off their shoulder once they fully caught up.

Deimos began walking off to call D9, which left Sanford feeling like he should be doing something. More specifically, he needed to do something about Hank being out of the shade. With their fever, there was no way they'd survive much longer out here, even if they'd begun recovering. He decided to consult Sheriff, seeing as no ideas immediately came to mind, and Deimos was busy.

"Hey, I'm not feeling too good about him being in the heat, do you have any ideas?"
Sheriff stepped back for a moment, their eyes glued to the make-shift sack which held all their things. Once they replied, they spoke slowly, as if considering their words carefully.

"I do... It probably won't do much, though..."
If it were true, it didn't matter. Anything was better than nothing at this point.

"As long as it'll help."
He could hear the worry in his own voice, making him realise how anxious he was about the whole situation. Silence reigned for a few seconds, which Sanford spent keeping down his fight or flight, despite nothing being an immediate threat to him.

Eventually, Sheriff nodded.
"Okay, we'll need to rearrange our supplies, we can tie the blanket between the top of both those rocks."
Taking a second glance at the rocks, he could see where they were coming from. They weren't anything grand, but they were at least a little taller than he was. So, he got to work, helping them untie the knot he'd made, causing the blanket and it's contents to spill outwards onto the floor.

"Where are we putting it all?"
The question finally came to mind, and looking at Sheriff's expression, they didn't have much of a clue either.

"What are you two up to?"
Deimos wandered next to Sanford, the stench of cigarette ash reaching him before they did. Sanford looked at Deimos disapprovingly for a moment, before remembering the deal. However, they'd caught on to his glance before he could look away.

"Hey, you said every three days, it's been three!"
They glared back with clear annoyance, though it was half-hearted. Sanford sighed, still worried that the stuff would kill him.

"I know, I know."
He kept his tone even, trying to keep the peace. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument over their smoking, especially after they just agreed to let Sanford help him get off the stuff. The following silence came as a relief, as it meant the conflict had died down.

"So, where are we moving all this?"
Repeating the question, he noticed Sheriff snap back into attention, nobody moved for a few seconds, until Sheriff took his jacket from his waist.

"Here," He walked between 2B and Hank, "We can put all the food on this."

They lay it on the ground, working at the creases until it was mostly flat. Sanford, now having a goal, began picking up the food, accompanied by Deimos, who'd clued in on the fact they'd need help.

"How long until they get here?"
Sanford decided he'd try to pass time while moving things around.

"Huh?"
Deimos stared at him blankly, before a spark of recognition flashed in their eyes.

"Oh! Yeah, D9 said two to three days."
Sanford dropped what he'd carried onto the jacket, looking over what they had in total, it would be a stretch, but they could manage.