Saving Grant Ward

Chapter Twenty-Two

"C'mon Slater!" Grant yelled over the wind. "We have to get a little farther tonight!"

I clenched my teeth, but forced myself to keep trudging after Grant. We'd been trekking through the wastelands of Russia for so long now, I'd officially lost track of the days. The first two weeks had been the worst; I'd still remembered what it felt like to be warm, and not at constant risk of dropping dead in the middle of trying to walk at least twenty miles a day, every day.

Then, remarkably, I'd gotten used to our new reality. It became routine to put one foot in front of the other for hours as we walked, without seeing another soul, and without any change in the landscape around us. Without Grant, I probably would've gone crazy a long, long time ago.

We'd also managed to save each other from a whole bunch of new near-death experiences over the course of however long we'd been out here. We'd almost died at least 30 times. We'd almost walked over cliffs we'd noticed at the last possible second, almost been caught in avalanches, almost been buried alive in snowstorms, actually been caught in subzero temperatures with nowhere to shelter, and survived at least a dozen other close-calls. At this point, near-death experiences felt more like an annoyance or an inconvenience than anything close to the terrifying experience they should've been.

We'd been pushing ourselves beyond our limits day in and day out, through the absolute worst this place could throw at us, and I was starting to run out of stamina. But we'd made it this far.

I was not about to give up now.

Grant and I pushed forward, heads lowered against the wind, for as long as we could. We made it another few miles, despite the ever-present ache in my muscles and deep into my bones, then finally reached our physical limit for the day. Grant sagged a little and I leaned in to hear him better as he shouted over the wind.

"Alright! We'll camp here."

His voice sounded scratchy from the cold and disuse, as it always did after we spent the day walking in silence, conserving whatever strength we could. We dropped our survival packs, then stumbled around with the true dredges of our energy to gather some fuel for a fire. We'd been lucky to find a place to stop for tonight that had any at all.

It took us forever to get a fire started, even with enough fuel and a lighter. The wind blew strongly enough that it kept putting out the flame, despite our best efforts. Finally, though, we managed it, huddling together in front of the fire to protect it from the wind with our bodies.

Thankfully, our SHIELD long-term survival kits included a tent. But we always waited to set it up until we were ready to get in and go to bed, for fear the wind would blow it away and then we'd really be screwed.

I breathed hard, just staring into the flames as Grant pulled out the SAT phone for one of our daily rituals of checking whether it had magically started working again. A heavy sigh from Grant was enough to tell me we still hadn't gotten lucky.

Briefly, I wondered where I'd be right now if I hadn't joined SHIELD. Probably not long out of college, or else in my senior year, living in an apartment in New York somewhere. I had no idea what time it was back there, let alone here, but maybe I'd be sitting down in my own, warm bed, reading a Paula Pinske novel instead of living the worst part of one.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. I didn't want to think like that; I couldn't. I'd loved every single second of my time at SHIELD, and it had led to most of my favorite memories so far. I'd made a ton of friends at the Academy and beyond, found a path and a purpose I actually cared about, and met Grant. SHIELD was one of the best decisions I'd ever made, and I was not about to let a little hardship like the Siberian tundra change my mind. No matter how close it came to killing me.