Thin Air Page 0,25

do we do now?" I asked. Lewis crossed his arms.

"What we were going to do before she showed up," he said. "David and I scouted the route this morning. We hike to the rendezvous, make contact with Wardens we can trust, and find a place to hole up until David can lay his hands on Ashan and find out how to solve this thing."

"Well, we can't just leave her!" I said. "And I don't think she's strong enough to hike it right now. Not in this weather." Wasn't too sure I was, either.

"I'm sorry, but we can't wait. Kevin's still out there somewhere, and I have no reason to believe he can't find her. Or worse, he might know where she is already. We have to leave her. We can get David to lead a rescue party back for her. We'll leave her the tent, food, water, a supply of heat packs."

"You think she'll last long enough to be rescued? Even with all the supplies?"

Silence. Lewis rocked back and forth, restless and weary, and shook his head.

"Then no," I said. "I'm not leaving her here to die alone." Not because she was supposed to be my friend; it's hard to have friends when you don't remember the good times, not to mention the bad. But because it was just plain wrong.

Lewis looked like he wanted to argue with me, but I saw the torment in his face.

And the guilt.

"All right." He sighed. "We'll see how she is in the morning. But I still think it's a mistake."

Cherise looked better when we went back in the tent, but one glance at Lewis told me that was deceptive; he wouldn't be that grim if her condition had improved. At least she didn't seem to be in pain. Certainly she was giving off no on-the-verge-of-death vibes. The only thing strange about her was the haunted, empty look in her eyes, and the fact that she seemed to have a longer and longer lag in responding to anything around her.

I tried to ignore it. The rest of the day was consumed with small talk, nothing very deep or probing. I didn't ask her much about my own life; I wasn't sure I was ready to hear how close we'd been. She volunteered details, though, mentioned people and places that I didn't and couldn't recognize. I was grateful when she fell asleep, finally, and zipped myself into my own sleeping bag next to her. Lewis sat cross-legged, crammed in the corner of the tiny shelter, lost in what looked like meditation but could have been a sitting-up nap for all I knew.

I was about to drift off to sleep when Cherise said dreamily, "Jo?"

I sat up and did some unnecessary adjustments to her burrito-style wrapping. Her eyes seemed to take ages to focus on me, and she smiled slightly.

"You don't have to pretend. I know something's wrong," she said. Her voice was soft. "Look, if I did anything...said anything, you know, earlier...I didn't mean it. You know that, right? I didn't mean it. Don't be mad, okay?"

I didn't even know her, not really, but that hurt. I tried not to let it show. "I'm not mad," I said. My voice actually stayed mostly steady. "You should sleep for a while. Rest."

Another one of those eerie lags, like talking to someone in space. While she was waiting to get the message, she seemed to be just...vacant. Then she excavated a hand from the foil wrapping around her and took mine. She had a tattoo around the ring finger of her right hand, some kind of Celtic knot work. I figured, given the alien gray tat on her back, she probably had more body art, probably in places that only her boyfriends knew about. A normalish girl, one who loved her looks and devoted a lot of time to their enhancement. A girl who probably had the guys buzzing back home.

A girl who'd been my friend. Who still was, in ways that counted.

She said, "Don't leave me here. Not by myself."

"I wouldn't. I won't."

"I'm scared." She didn't seem to be hearing me, although her huge blue eyes were locked on mine. "I can't just die, Jo. I didn't even do anything heroic yet. Not like you."

I looked over at Lewis, whose eyes opened as soon as I focused on him. Serene as the Buddha. I took in a trembling breath. "Isn't there anything you can do?" I snapped. I was displacing anger, I knew that, but it