Waiting is agony. The physical discomfort is bad enough. I'm cold, my skin is raw and tight, itching against my t-shirt then blazing in shards of agony when I foolishly try to scratch. After walking all day, my muscles are tired and cramped, and there is no comfortable position to be had in the gravel-filled hollow we're hunkered down in. There's also the chill emanating from Kendrick, who is studiously ignoring me and staring fixedly in the direction Kyle and Lopez have disappeared.
I'm trying not to. I can't see a thing through the soupy darkness, and twisting my head around every time I hear so much as a stir of wind has given me a painful crick in my neck to add to my other complaints. Each time I peered hopefully into nothing, my heart leapt high into my throat and my pulse thundered loudly, drowning out any noises that might have drifted my way, heralding the return of my friends, my sister. And each time, I felt the crushing disappointment when it turned out to be nothing more than my own over-worked and overwhelmed imagination.
I can't do it anymore.
So I wait, and I try to pretend I'm not waiting. I have vague memories of my mother performing yoga on a faded blue rug on a patch of sunlight in our living room, her face serene, limbs twisted into an elegant lotus position. There's no way I can contort my body into that shape – not on the uneven, rock hard ground, not with my muscles already screaming in pain the way they are – but I attempt to drift into the trance-like state she used to achieve, letting my mind float away from my body, find peace. It doesn't work. Anxiety and panic grips me mercilessly, a steel band around my chest, anchoring me until I feel like I'm suffocating under it. It makes me want to flee, to run and run until I leave the clawing fear behind. I feel like a butterfly pinned to a lepidopterist's wall.
I stay put, however. Because Kendrick would kill me, and Kyle and Lopez are coming. With Millie. Soon. It has to be soon, because I feel like I've been crouched here waiting for hours and surely we need to be long gone when the sun comes back up. Kyle and Lopez need to hurry up.
At no point do I allow myself to think that they won't return. Or that they'll return empty handed. They are infallible.
"Kendrick," I shift position, accidentally brush his arm then jerk myself away. "I have to pee."
"Shhh!"
It must be getting close to dawn. I see his brow twitch in an irritated frown. I swallow back my fear of the morning in favour of more pressing needs.
"No, really Kendrick."
A sigh. "Tough."
I bite back an aggravated growl and try to find a way to squat that won't press down on my poor, ignored bladder. A small stream of stones shift under my feet, trickling down the slant of the ground with a whispered skitter.
"Quiet, Bree!" His snarled admonishment is much louder than the noise I made and I open my mouth to tell him so, but he flings an arm out, catching me across the chest in a move that would have sent me sprawling backwards if he hadn't grabbed a fistful of my shirt.
"Wh-," I don't even get the first word of my question out.
"There's someone coming."
I jump to attention like a startled meerkat. All night I've listened for the slightest noise and now company had crept upon us. A heady mix of hope and terror lances through me. Is it Kyle and Lopez with Millie, or is it something else? I lift myself up an inch or so, ignoring the burn in my leg muscles, and attempt to peer ahead. My heart freezes in my chest. Shadows. But not defined. It could be two men, three or even four. Would Kyle signal, give the bird call? I've no idea. Kendrick is tense beside me, gun in hand.
