Linked

Twenty-one : Buzz

The ink, a messy scrawl, warns: 

ONLY TAKE WHAT YOU NEED

IF YOU ARE IN NEED

It's a veritable treasure trove of supplies. Individually packaged protein bars, little sealed pouches of dried fruit with nuts, a first aid kit, water, and even plastic rain ponchos folded down into miniature squares. Corin and I share a look – eyes wide, mouths stretched into absurd grins.

"This is amazing," he says, scrambling to his knees, reaching over to grab a protein bar.

"Really?" I say incredulously. "You're going for the food? You've just devoured like fifty persimmons."

Corin shrugs, tearing off the wrapper and ripping into the bar with his teeth. "Chocolate. My favourite flavour."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "We're only going to take a few though, okay? Read the note. And by the look of your bulging backpack we have enough persimmons to last us a lifetime."

"Yeah, but persimmons are perishable. And we don't know how far we have left to go."

"I think we'll be there sooner rather than later. Someone planted this box here, and someone must be sending the dreams. Which means, someone must be expecting us. Here, have some water."

The bottles are tiny, barely enough in each to quench the thirst of one person. I take one for each of us, and a third to wash my hands. Take only what you need rattles round my head. Who knows how many other mindlinkers are making their way to the refuge, might pass through the same area and need the same supplies? How many others are pretty much just kids, like us, fending for themselves and unwittingly doing stupid things like not rationing their food and water? How many others have no actual idea where they are going? I want to leave as much as possible for these reasons, these possible people tracing the same path.

I lift out what's labelled as a first aid kit, a tin box shut fast with a latch similar to the one on the wooden box. Corin watches me, chewing solemnly on his protein bar, as I inspect the supplies.

"Here." I hand him a vial of antiseptic spray, followed by a spool of bandages. "Let's see to your stomach, then."

"Nurse Benna," He says, scrunching the shiny, empty wrapper into a ball and stuffing it in his trouser pocket. "Has a nice ring to it."

"Sounds better than president, anyway." I reply. "Lie back. Use your backpack as a pillow. You've already got enough mud in your hair to house a family of beetles."

"I'll squash the persimmon stash."

"Use the sleeping bag, then." We left the blanket from the boat back where we encountered the cougars. Hopefully they will enjoy it.

Finally, we get sorted, Corin reclined on a folded sleeping bag, t-shirt bunched beneath his armpits, myself poised to play nurse, trickling bottled water over my hands and trying to pick as much black gunk from beneath my fingernails as I can.

"So, these dreams of yours..." Corin says tentatively, staring off into the trees as I prepare to spray. "I might have a theory about what they are."

"They are definitely something. After finding this box, I just know the images are significant somehow."

"I agree. I take it you haven't heard of spiders."

I frown at him. "Of course I have. There was one living in the corner of Jesse's bathroom. It freaked me out, but he wasn't bothered. Ugh." I suppress a shudder. Their legs are just so long, and, well... spidery.