Leah's Hero - Miranda Martin Page 0,32

many indicators. I’m reading between the lines, or I’m fantasizing. One or the other and I’m not sure which.

When the floor collapsed, I hit my head on the way down. I remember that much of it. The instant when my stomach dropped ahead of my body falling. The blow to my head that left me dazed. I was under the water, fighting to find my way to air, but I couldn’t tell up from down.

Then everything grew dark, or darker, and I saw her. That poor, frightened woman. She wasn’t my patient, so I don’t know her name, but I’ll never forget her face. The fear, contorting her face, her eyes and mouth impossibly wide as she screamed. Screamed and screamed for me to not let go, but my fingers hurt so much.

I tried. I tried so hard. It wasn’t enough.

Shaking my head, I push those memories away, back into the box I try to keep them in. Where they’ll stay until I fall asleep, when I can’t do anything to hold them at bay. One foot in front of another. Every step a fight for forward progress. The wind whips around, pushing from the front, then just as fast, switching to blow from the side, and I go skidding across loose leaves and mud.

Lightning flashes and the world lights up for a second before the thunder crashes, vibrating my teeth. We keep fighting. We’re going up a hill, slipping and sliding. Forward progress is minimal, if any. It seems like we’re going to get somewhere, then we’re sliding backwards and losing what we gained.

Urukol fights his way ahead a few feet then grabs onto a tree with one hand. He wraps the cloth rope around his forearm and pulls, tugging. I scramble, my feet slipping, arms pinwheeling as I struggle to keep upright and get to where he is.

I make it, at last, out of breath, every muscle trembling from the exertion. He repeats the action for Allie once he has me safely placed behind him.

“We can’t keep on!” I yell to be heard over the wind and rain.

“Must,” he says, almost growling. “Shelter.”

Once Angota gets to us, he switches places with Urukol giving him a break. I stay as close to him as I can without being too obvious. He closes his eyes, head bowed, breathing heavily.

“It’s getting worse!” Allie yells.

“I know!” I say.

Riley talks rapid fire to Urukol, too fast for me to follow. Damn it, I need to learn this language. I know basic words, enough to string together meaning if we go slow, but when they start rolling, it’s fast. The syllables are soft, full of drawn out s sounds that drop to almost growls on some points. Listening to it at normal speed, it’s kind of pretty. It has a rhythm to it, kind of like listening to a rock song.

“He says there should be a cave, not far,” Riley says.

“How far?” Allie asks.

Riley shakes her head. “They don’t measure space like we do, I’m not sure.”

“They don’t measure space like we do? What does that mean?” Allie asks.

“He said something like four hundred wingspans,” Riley says.

“Of course, great!” Allie says, throwing her hands up in the air.

I understand her frustration. I want to cry. I’m so cold my teeth are chattering, I’m soaked to the bone, and it’s getting darker. Dreary gray to wet black, what a change. It could be worse I suppose, we could be drowning. Been there, done that.

Rakstan arrives and Urukol pushes past us. He pauses beside me, meeting my eyes, staring.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Sure,” I shrug.

He frowns, nods, then resumes walking. The trail is relatively flat, and the foliage overhead is thick, easing the rain. The wind has backed off some, so overall this isn’t as bad as it was when we tried before.

No one talks as we trudge through the jungle. The wind blows and the rain pelts, making a constant white noise that is the music of our misery. Head bowed, I keep my focus on one foot in front of the other. One step closer to… whatever is coming. I’m hungry, wet, tired beyond belief, but I keep trudging.

“I don’t think he knows about second breakfasts,” Allie mutters.

“Huh?” I ask, glancing back.

She grins and shakes her head. “A vid I watched on the ship. The Lord of the Rings, seen it?”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I never cared for the vids.”

“You what?” she asks.

“I never did,” I say, watching my feet as my face burns.

“I