The trip was agony, the road, taken in silence. Sofia watched her shoes for the first while, morosely taking in the pattern the soles carved into the dust, the way the particles wisped into clouds with each step. She felt too down to talk, and around her, the only sound was of the soft thuds of footfalls of her compatriots. She was faintly aware of a chill in the air, a frozen edge to the wintry breeze that nipped at her neck and cheeks, but she was too miserable to register it completely. She did register an audible sniff from Catherine about two miles up the road, and out of the corner of her eye saw Warrick take her hand in his, but it was the only interaction they had for most of the trip.
Thereafter the hike proceeded with mundane routine, Sofia mandating a stop at the town for rest and water before they began their trek east – into the unknown. They walked parallel to the highway, concealed amongst the scrub, until mid-afternoon when they eventually reached a settlement, and paused at the top of a slope to view an isolated desert town below.
It was little more than a hotch-potch gathering of cement sheet houses, a dozen dirty, vandalised buildings that stood like lonely islands in the desert. They had little in the way of fences – a few strips of barbed wire tangled by weeds which had reclaimed them – and even at a distance Sofia could see grass growing in the spouting on the roofs.
"All that's missing are the tumbleweeds," Catherine said, heaving a sigh of disappointment.
Still, they had no choice, and after a short break to stake it out – making sure it was uninhabited – Sofia led the group down to investigate. She drew her gun, and entered the first run-down shack barrel-first. She stepped in carefully, not taking it for granted that they were alone, but soon stopped in the living room, stunned.
"Wow," she breathed.
"Shit," Warrick added.
The place was trashed. The couch was slashed, innards spilling, and personal possessions and knick-knacks were tossed helter-skelter throughout the room. The windows were all smashed, the shards melded into the carpet like prickly confetti, but most of all, the place smelt like a dried sewer.
"Well someone's been here before us," Nick said, indicating a pile of human excrement in the corner.
A few feet away Catherine turned her nose up, mouth open in revulsion.
"Evidently the plumbing's not working," Warrick added, taking Catherine's elbow to draw her away – they could not be too careful when it came to human germs.
"Probably making a statement," Catherine surmised.
"Yeah, and not a friendly one," Nick agreed, stopping to indicate a kitchen cupboard snapped off its hinges. "Let's hope they're well clear of this place by now."
It was not a nice thought, and Sofia found herself glancing through the smashed windows again, checking they were alone. Whoever had trashed the place was not someone she wanted to meet – or be within thirty miles of.
"We'd better stay close together just in case," Warrick said.
"Let's just search the place," Catherine said, looking unnerved. "Get out as soon as we can."
XXX
Sara's day was oddly productive. After her friends' departure she had endured a miserable few minutes on the verandah with Grissom, struggling with the heartache, but it was not long after that her well-honed survival instincts kicked in, and she went in search of a distraction. What she found was a pile of laundry, followed by a bathroom that needed cleaning, bed linen that needed changing, and several other miscellaneous household chores which meant that by several hours later, the house was in better shape than it had been in months. Grissom watched her with bemusement for the first few minutes, standing at the foot of the stairs with an eyebrow raised as she emerged from the bedrooms with armfuls of dirty clothing, but moments later he seemed to accept it as a viable coping strategy, and pitched in to help.
While she did her chores he cleaned the kitchen, unblocked the drain beneath the sink, and took their rubbish out to bury in their makeshift rubbish dump a mile away – the pit that had been hard dug by Nick and Warrick back at the end of summer. He then brought in logs for the fire, and stoked it up to a toasty glow that warded off the grey chill outside, and by mid-afternoon, when they both retreated to its side to hang up the wet laundry, Sara actually felt a little more at ease.
She perched to rest on the edge of the armchair, and smiled to herself as she watched Grissom arrange the socks into a neat little line on the rack. When it came to laundry, Grissom liked things to be perfectly ordered, and it was one of his more adorable quirks.
"Why don't you get some shut-eye," he suggested, pausing to indicate the blanket on the sofa. "You've been going all day."
"I'm fine," Sara said.
She tried to smile off his concern, but even as she did felt the fatigue settle into her body. She was always tired these days – but whether from her pregnancy, weight loss, or the psychological stress, she couldn't tell. She looked into the fire, mesmerised by its flickering.
"Come on," he said.
He finished with the last bra, dangling it over the rack, and then held out a hand, urging her over onto the couch. Sara went willingly, touched by his gentle concern, and paused on the edge a moment while he reached down for her feet.
"Shoes off," he guided.
She did not need to move – before she had even contemplated the problem he had done it for her, and lined up the shoes beside the coffee table. He reached for the blanket which had previously been folded and placed aside, and unravelled it for her.
"Lie down," he said. "Just close your eyes a while."
Sara paused halfway down, catching a glimpse of the dark sky outside. It had been gloomy and overcast all day, but it seemed darker now, the clouds grey and stormy, sucking the light from the world.
"It's getting dark," she said.
"Don't worry about it," he replied.
He bedded her down, and Sara rested her head on the soft pillow, feeling a pleasant cosiness as he tucked her in.
She opened her mouth again, but –
"They have a tent, they'll be fine," he soothed. "Just rest."
She felt him stroke her hair back, loving and tender.
"Join me?" Sara queried.
And he did not need much tempting.
XXX
In town, Sofia watched from the windows of the seventh house as the storm rolled in. The sky darkened, the grey clouds blocking the sun like an early dusk, and there came a damp chill to the air that smelled of impending rain. By the time they reached the next house the raindrops started, plopping thick into the dust outside, and by the time they reached the last shack in the row, the thunder had hit.
Sofia almost jumped as it exploded above the roof, and searching the last bedroom, she quickly shoved a few abandoned newspapers into her pack. They had found next to no supplies – the town was picked clean of anything useful – but that problem was now superseded by the storm.
She looked hurriedly over her shoulder as she clipped her pack closed, throwing it over her shoulder.
"Guys, let's go!"
She emerged into the filthy living room as the other three came hurrying back to meet her. The windows, as with all in town, were smashed, and the icy wind blew a spray of raindrops across her face.
Warrick jogged in across a carpet of shattered glass.
"Let's hurry, get the hell out of here," he said quickly.
"I'll second that," Nick said, quickly zipping his pack closed. "If we don't leave now, we'll be swimming back."
"It's a downpour already," Catherine said, throwing a scared glance to the rain. "We won't make it far –"
"We don't have to," Warrick replied. "Just far enough to set up camp – we can't stay here."
He threw a dark look to Sofia, and she nodded, ushering the group to the door, her gun clenched in her hand. Before they had departed, Grissom had pulled herself and Warrick aside, seeking several promises. One had been that they would get to safety by nightfall, and the other that they take close care of Catherine and Nick. Sofia knew his fears for Catherine were simply because she was female, and their last trip out had proven what a danger that was, but his fears for Nick were different, and related to his trauma in Vegas. Sofia knew how it had affected him, and for that reason was keenly aware that if they ever got stuck in another firefight, she would have to take care of Nick.
They paused on the doorstep. The rain was steady now, the droplets converging into pools, but there was nothing else for it.
"We'll have to make a run for it," Nick said.
He drew up his collar around his neck.
"You lead," Sofia said to Warrick. "I'll follow."
She gripped her gun tight, and as Warrick leapt from the porch Sofia urged Catherine and Nick out after him, before leaping off herself into the wet.
It was soaking. Her feet sploshed over the ground as the dirt slushed into mud, and the wind blew the rain in at an angle against her face. She kept her wet hands on her gun, her eyes ahead on Warrick as he helped Catherine negotiate the barbed wire fence and tangle of weeds on the fence post. Nick quickly vaulted it after them, and they paused in the desert beyond.
"We'll have to find higher ground!" Warrick called. "This place will flood."
"Let's go, man!" Nick said.
They turned to search out Sofia, and Sofia took one last guarded glance at the town, ensuring they were safe. Most of the houses were obscured by rain, but as her eyes paused on one a few hundred yards down, she saw a shadow suddenly slip from sight.
She halted, unsure what it was.
"Sofia!" Warrick called.
Nick jogged a few steps to hold out a hand, offering help.
"Hurry up, come on –"
But still Sofia hesitated.
"What is it?" Warrick demanded.
"It's nothing," she said, taking Nick's hand. "Let's go."
XXX
They hurried through the rain, Sofia still with her gun poised, taking regular glances over her shoulder. She felt on edge, not knowing what it was, unsure if it had been merely an effect of the wind. She had seen no signs of life in town, but that meant little. Their trip to Vegas had shown them that. She gripped Nick's elbow, ushering him along, wishing they could run instead of being weighed down by their packs and the drenching wet.
"What is it?" Nick asked, noticing her repeated glances. "Something back there?"
"I don't know," Sofia replied, honest this time. "Just keep moving – fast as you can."
Warrick looked scared, and glanced back himself, moving a fraction closer to Catherine.
"What did you see?" she asked quickly.
"Movement," Sofia replied.
She did not want to say more, but did not need to. Catherine quickly redrew her gun from where she had holstered it, and snapped off the safety. They moved at a brisk walk, half jogging and sploshing through the mud, each of them hurrying each other along. The rain soon soaked Sofia's clothes, her jacket waterlogged, her denim jeans clinging unpleasantly to her legs. She quickly became cold – but that was the least of her concerns. Better cold than dead.
"Let's put some distance behind us," she said, urging them along.
"The further the better," Catherine agreed.
"We'll camp somewhere safe," Warrick ruled. "Sheltered and out of sight."
"We'll be fine, man," Nick said. "Just keep walking, we'll be good."
None of them were keen to stop, and they kept going even beyond the several mile limit they had agreed upon. They walked to the horizon, around rocks and down muddy slopes until they left the town far behind them, and only stopped once they were shivering too hard to go any further. Nick, who had been a boy scout once in Texas, steered them to a sheltered section of rock that gave a little protection from the wind and the wet, and helped ease Sofia's pack from her shoulders. She was so soaked now that her muscles felt frozen; her energy depleted.
"You okay?" he asked, pausing with a hand to her face.
"Yeah," she said.
She shivered, but nodded, merely grateful that they had got away unscathed. Seeming satisfied that she was okay for the moment he set to work, and dug a torch from his pack before unearthing the tent for the group. It was completely dark now, and though the storm had passed it had left in its wake a drenching, steady rain, and one that did not seem to have any intention of letting up. She stood there illuminated by Nick's torchlight, Warrick and Catherine both shivering beside her as Nick refused their offers of help.
"You just stay right there, I'll make quick work of this."
His masculine confidence was one of the things she had found most attractive, and when combined with his chivalrous protection of her – working in the rain to while she waited in the dry – she felt her love for him come to the forefront with overwhelming intensity. He hammered in the tent pegs with expert speed, and in no time at all had erected the dark dome tent for the four of them to use.
He picked up the group's packs and tossed them inside, and then ushered them all in ahead of him.
"Thank you," she said, sitting down in the corner in the dry.
"It's nothing," he replied, with casual ease.
He zipped the tent closed, and then moved toward her, helping himself to her pack.
"We'll get your bed things set up, and then you can change, get into some dry clothes. This place is pretty isolated – we'll be safe here a while. We can sleep out the storm, get some rest."
It sounded wonderful, and Sofia sat there in a sleepy haze while he unpacked her things. It only occurred to her a few seconds later that she should help, but her muscles felt too exhausted to move.
"Here, put these on, dry yourself off."
He passed her some dry clothes and a towel, and Sofia moved weakly to obey him, happy to be rid of her drenched shirt. It occurred to her faintly – distantly – that it had been a bad idea to hike in the rain, but she was too tired to analyse it any further. All she wanted was to crawl into the sleeping bag where it was warm and dry, and sleep for a few years.
"Cath – you're quiet," Nick went on. "You okay?"
"Fine," Catherine murmured.
"Well change your shirt, okay? That one's too wet. You too, Warrick."
She heard them rummage in their packs, and then Nick's hands returned to her. He helped her pull on the fresh t-shirt, and then reached for her jeans.
"Take them off," he said. "You leave them on, you'll get sick. We need you healthy, okay?"
He didn't give her a choice, and was gently helping her off with them before Sofia had even debated the problem. He peeled them off, the denim soaked, and dried her skin with a towel before finally letting her crawl down into the waiting sleeping bag.
"Get some rest," he said. "Everything's going to be fine, okay?"
He kissed her, and when he finally joined her a few minutes later – in fresh clothes himself – she burrowed into him, snuggling into his chest. He held her close, and she closed her eyes, and for a while, she slept.
Apologies for the delay in producing this chapter. It's a comparatively short one, but overall I thought people may prefer I post this than to make everyone wait another month or even longer for a longer one. What do you think? Still reading, enjoying? Curious for more? Feedback makes me write faster... :)