Chapter 8

 

The gas can in Brooke's right hand hovered inches from the ground, pulling her down. She moved the can to her left hand, giving her right arm some rest. The thirty-five-pound, five-gallon drum felt like it weighed one hundred pounds the closer she moved to the cruiser.

 

After another fifteen minutes of walking, she felt the handle slip from her fingers. The can hit the sand and Brooke soon followed, collapsing to her knees. She pulled her backpack off and dug through the main compartment. She pulled out her water bottle.

 

The remaining liquid sloshed around at the bottom of the container. She pulled the cap off and tilted the bottle back, draining the rest of her supply.

 

Brooke gasped after drinking the liquid and her hand holding the bottle dropped to the sand. She looked behind her. The relay station was firmly in the distance. She had followed her own tracks back, and she knew the cruiser had to be close. She put the cap back on the container and shoved it into her pack.

 

Brooke pushed herself off the sand, picked up the gas can, and continued her march to the cruiser. A hot blast of wind caused her to wobble, almost knocking her over. She steadied herself, bracing for another gust that was sure to come.

 

But instead of another hot gust of wind, something else made its way through the desert air. Brooke could hear something in the distance. She stopped walking, trying to listen for it again. The sound was faint, but she could hear the distinct sound of a child screaming. Her child.

 

The rush of adrenaline gave her a burst of energy, driving her forward. She could see the reflection of the sun hitting the cruiser's window.

 

“John!” Brooke said.

 

“Hurry!” John replied.

 

Five yards from the car, Brooke dropped the gas can and ran to the rear passenger-side door, where John was standing, mopping Emily's forehead with a damp rag.

 

“What happened?” Brooke asked.

 

“She said something stung her,” John replied.

 

“An ant, scorpion, spider? What was it?”

 

“She didn't say. After she was bit, she started to feel light-headed, and her speech became slurred. She collapsed on the back seat, and that's when I started yelling.”

 

Brooke cupped Emily's face in her hands. Her daughter wheezed, struggling for breath.

 

“Em, can you hear me? Em?” Brooke asked.

 

Emily didn't respond. Her eyes rolled aimlessly, never focusing on one thing.

 

Brooke sprinted back for the gas can. She carried it back over her head in both hands so she could run faster. She ripped the gas cap off and dumped the diesel into the cruiser's tank.

 

“What are we going to do?” John asked.

 

“There's a first aid kit at the relay station. Inside, there should be a scorpion antidote that we can give her,” Brooke said.

 

“But what if it wasn't a scorpion that stung her?”


“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

 

The last few drops of gas emptied into the cruiser, and Brooke tossed the empty can into the back with the rest of her gear.

 

John climbed into the back seat with his sister, holding her steady while the cruiser bounced along the desert dunes and brush, kicking up sand behind them.