G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-12-

We walked until our feet were bloody and limbs couldn't take it any longer. The hunger had grown worse, as had the thirst. After the first thirty minutes, Jacks finally gave a sigh and dropped my cargo pants. Said they were too heavy. I didn't want to leave them behind, so I weakly dragged them behind me. Then we trekked on.

As the sun began cresting the huge forest, we heard a bird calling through the trees. Cleve stopped, glancing around.

"What?" I asked her tiredly.

"That was our signal," she said. "The Trials with paintball guns and capture the flag. We made up several bird whistles."

I glanced back to Jacks, who had been on Team Red-Yellow with me. My question was clear: why hadn't we thought of that? Maybe that's why we had lost.

Cleve whistled back, three sharp shrills. "Come on. Follow me."

We walked on with renewed strength... sort of. My feet mostly dragged, but at least I wasn't on the ground, wishing for death anymore.

Thump!

We all spun around. I raised my pistol, as did Jacks, and Cleve aimed her rifle. Jensen stood there, having just jumped from a tree. Though I really would have preferred Petrov or Leroy, at least Jensen was alive. And I was glad. Until he nodded to Jacks, saying, "So they made you carry the clothes while they did it? Well, at least that's one way to keep warm."

Cleve snaked out her hand, clutching Jensen's shirt and pulling him towards her. "I can beat you up without clothes just as easily with them. Got that?"

His Adam's apple bobbed before he gave her a nod. With that, she unzipped his jacket in one fluid motion, wrapping it around her own shoulders. She was careful with her injured shoulder. Jensen shivered in a short-sleeved shirt, breathing on his hands.

"You got any water?" Jacks asked him.

Jensen shook his head. "I did. From the river a few miles west. But I drank it all."

"Great," Jacks muttered.

"We need shelter," Cleve announced. Her new jacket was zipped all the way up. I felt relieved I could look at her straight on again. "Some food, too."

Jensen sneered. "Look, Cleve, I love raw lizards as much as the next guy, but I would rather not get sick."

"Then don't eat raw lizards, genius," she said back. The girl glanced around the area. "This place is reasonably dry. Flat. Jacks, are those clothes dry yet?"

"Mostly."

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"We could make an insulated shelter against one of the thicker trees, making sure it covers us from the wind."

"And food?" Jensen ridiculed.

"I suggest you start looking under logs, Jensen. Grubs are for dinner."

He looked sick at the thought but started his new task anyway. Cleve directed Jacks to ripping open one of the shirts, laying it flat on the ground. She had me get several long, thick sticks, which we dug into the ground around it. We used her yoga pants to tie them all in place, then draped the jacket, my ripped shirt, and ripped pants over. It had gotten considerably colder by this point, and we were all shivering. We stacked random bits of wood around all sides, making it sturdier and lessening the number of holes. The lean-to wasn't the best, far from it, but as the three of us huddled underneath the shelter, our body heat seemed to radiate into each other.

Jensen finally jogged over, holding a long piece of rotting wood in his hands. Maggots squirmed atop.

"Ugh," Jacks said. "I think I'm going to be sick."