Light crept through tiny crevices; the interior was dim, but not dark. There was no need to turn on the book light in order to find where she’d put the candy bars. She was starving, but when she began chewing the first bite off her half of the bar, her appetite suddenly fled and the candy began growing in her mouth. She fought back the nausea and managed to swallow it, but folded the paper around the remainder of the candy and put it back in the plastic zip bag.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, frowning at her.
“I was, until I started eating. I’ll take another bite in a little while.” Her mouth felt grungy, so she rooted around until she found the pack of disposable foam toothbrushes. She took two from the pack, stuck one in her mouth, and extended one to him. “Here.”
“What is this?” he asked, frowning at the pink circle of cut foam as if it were alive.
“A disposable toothbrush. It doesn’t need water. This shelter’s too small for morning breath on top of yesterday’s and last night’s breath, so take it and brush.”
His mouth quirked in a smile as he took the small stick and began swabbing the foam around in his mouth. Bailey was pleasantly surprised by the minty taste, and by how much cleaner her mouth felt when she finished. Now if she could just have a nice, hot shower…
Dream on, she told herself as she relaxed her aching body on the cushions and dragged a pile of clothing over herself. The clothes would cover them better if the garments were straightened out and layered, but she was too tired and felt too sick to deal with it just now. Justice stretched out behind her, then he pulled her close and rearranged the pieces of clothing so nothing was between them except what they wore.
How odd it was, she thought, that in just one night they’d already established a sort of routine. They already knew, and automatically sought, the positions where they fit best together and were most comfortable. He was a good six inches taller than she, maybe more, so with her back to him they spooned together almost perfectly. His arm draped over her waist, and his hand slipped up under her shirt for warmth, so his hand was resting on her stomach. It was odd, she thought, how fast the situation had forged a sense of familiarity, even intimacy, with him, but she supposed that was a survival mechanism. Together they had a better chance of making it off this mountain alive than they would have alone.
“We could play cards, I guess,” she said, thinking of the hours ahead of them.
“Or we could just lie here,” he countered.
“Sounds good.” Just lying there was honestly all she felt like doing. After another moment of silence, she felt herself drifting to sleep.
CAM DIDN’T THINK Bailey’s fever was any higher than it had been before, but she was obviously sick. When she woke, he would check her arm to see if red streaks had begun radiating out from the wound. He hoped the antibiotic salve and her fever were doing the job, though, because if sepsis had begun then their situation had gone from serious to critical. In the meantime, sleep was the best thing for her—for both of them. They would burn fewer calories, and need less food and water.
He had really thought the ELT would have led a helicopter to them by now, but the weather was a complicating factor. A helicopter couldn’t land in this terrain, of course, but it could pinpoint their location for the rescue team, as well as drop much-needed provisions. Thanks to Bailey’s ton of clothing they weren’t doing too badly keeping warm, but a camp stove would have been nice, as well as some bottles of water and energy bars.
Thinking of energy bars reminded him of the trail mix bars he’d put in his coat pocket yesterday morning. He didn’t know where the coat was now, but he’d definitely like to have it, and the trail mix bars could be a godsend. The problem was, neither of them was capable of searching for his coat, and even if they found it the bars might have fallen out. Of course, if they were rescued today, then he didn’t care about either the coat or the trail mix bars.
He figured he was basically okay, physically. He was weak from blood loss, the concussion made his head hurt like a son of a bitch, but he evidently didn’t have any injuries to either his brain or anything internal. If he had, he expected he wouldn’t have lived through the night. He didn’t have any fever—or if he did, it was so slight he couldn’t tell. A day or so of rest, some food and water, and he’d be good to go.
He was worried about Bailey, though. Altitude sickness wasn’t something to be taken lightly, and neither was an infected wound. The hell of it was, she was having problems with both because she’d concentrated on taking care of him instead of herself.
So, because there was nothing else he could do, he held her as she slept. He listened to her breathe, and he stayed alert for any rise in her fever. He also listened for the beat of helicopter blades, and he prayed they came soon.
17
BRET HAD STAYED IN THE OFFICE ALL NIGHT, OCCASIONALLY putting his head down on his desk for a brief nap. Karen had gone home to change clothes and pick up some food; she came back wearing jeans and a T-shirt and carrying Chinese takeout. When she came back she was also accompanied by her leather-wearing, tattooed, pierced, and bearded boyfriend, whose name, it turned out, was Larry.
Larry was evidently there to take care of Karen, because he brought her coffee when she wanted it, massaged her neck and shoulders, held her when she cried. Karen, who was usually the toughest of the tough, was shattered by the possibility of Cam’s death.
The small airport usually shut down at midnight, but the news that Cam’s plane had disappeared kept some people around. It simply seemed impossible to go home as if things were normal, to do anything routine, until they found out for certain what had happened. The head mechanic, Dennis, paced around with a drawn look, wondering if there had been something he’d overlooked during routine maintenance.