The Five Musketeers

Chapter 9 - Picnics Are Nice

"The king doth keep his revels here tonight. Take heed the queen come not within his sight. For Oberon is passing fell and wrath."      

~Puck, A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act 2 Scene 1.

     

        Peter's eyes were wide, and his face was slowly draining of color. He looked at Enrique, bent over a puddle of throw-up and moaning on the ground. Almost transfixed, he zeroed in on the brown sludge that had recently been inside Enrique's body. Leaning down, Peter gave a sympathy throw-up, body shaking violently.

        Jess started to cry even harder as Peter and Enrique both groaned over their respective piles of puke.

        Jack had started to back away from the whole situation, slowly making his way back towards the path. Jess was not about to let her one way-ticket back to her car escape to easily.

        Turning up the tears and snot, Jess bawled, "JACK! You c-can't just . . . l-l-leave me here. I need help!" Jess knew he was still unconvinced, but at least he had stopped walking.

        "Jess, what the hell is going on. And who is that?" Jack motioned towards Enrique, who had crawled away from the sight of his incident, and was attempting to find something in his backpack. The bandana was secured in place once again. 

        "It's a long story, but basically I fell, and then Enrique came out of the woods, and apparently he can't stand blood, so I asked for a band-aid, but he wouldn't listen to me and tried to touch my leg. I told him not to, Jack! I was so right, I knew he couldn't handle it!" Jess cried hysterically, mopping her nose with the hem of her shirt.

        Still looking horribly confused, Jack let out a long sigh and scowled. He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously trying to figure out how to transport two sick boys and one bloody girl out of the wilderness by himself. 

        "There's no service out here," he muttered, looking at his phone.

        "Where's Mish and Nicole? They drove you,didn't they?" Jess asked accusingly.

        "They stayed back in the parking lot. We didn't know where you went to, Jessie! Your car was there, but you weren't, and you didn't answer your phone. Peter and I decided to search for you out here, and they stayed back in case you were going to the bathroom or something."         

        Jack's spiel was interrupted by a wan Peter, who was limply lying on the ground. "Jack, help me up. I'm sorry, but I can't stand the sight of puke. It just makes me want to. . . ." Peter gagged uncontrollably and was unable to continue.

        Lugging him over to where Jess was, Jack flung Peter down next to her. She consolingly patted his back, drying the last of her tears on his shirt sleeve.

        Enrique had finally composed himself, and was upright once more, looking in the general direction of the three friends.

        "Hey, man. I'm Jack, one of Jess's friends. That's Peter, the one who decided to up-chuck his pop-tarts." Jess had to admit, even in a difficult situation, Jack did possess charisma.

        "Sorry 'bout that, it's just that I saw her knee and . . . well, blood and I don't mix very well, as you might have gathered. I'm Enrique. Excuse my blindness at the moment." Jess had to admit, Enrique too possessed a sufficient amount of charm. 

        While Enrique filled Jack in on why he was alone in the woods, Jess tried to test her leg inconspicuously. Stretching it out, a bolt of pain wound its way from her knee to her brain, making her grunt. Peter looked over curiously, still a bit green from his excursion earlier.