Einstein was thrilled to get out of the car and relieve himself. It was harder for Lola. Alex had to redress Lola’s wound when she was done. Daniel had food and water out for them before Alex was finished. Then Daniel had the easier job of relieving himself, and Alex got the more complicated version. She’d lived out of a car before, though, and while it wasn’t her favorite thing, she was prepared.
She took a look at the front of the Humvee and had to admit she was impressed. To the naked eye, there was no evidence that they’d been in even a minor fender-bender.
The breakfast options were minimal. Alex found herself with the same box of Pop-Tarts that she’d started with her first morning at the ranch. Daniel took a packet, too.
“What are we going to do about food?” he asked.
Alex wiped her arm across her forehead, drying the sweat before it could drip into her eyes. “Tonight I’ll stock up a little at each gas station. It will get us through a few days. Let me know if you have any requests.” Alex yawned, then hissed when the motion pulled at the cut on her face.
“Do you have aspirin?”
She nodded tiredly. “That might be a good idea. We both need to get some sleep. The dogs will be fine if we just leave them outside, right? I don’t want them to have to be cooped up all night and all day, too.”
Alex dug up a couple of Motrin while Daniel shoved the mess in the back of the Humvee to the sides of the bed, leaving a narrow flat space in the middle for them. Satisfied that she’d done everything she could, Alex spread out her sleeping bag and rolled down the top edge for a pillow.
It felt normal in an abnormal way to have Daniel lie down beside her, instinctive and comfortable for him to wrap one arm around her waist and bury his face in the hollow of her neck. The scratch of his short beard tickled her skin, but she didn’t mind.
She was starting to drift off when she became conscious of his movement beside her. At first she thought he was beginning to snore, but the shuddering didn’t pause. She grabbed his fingers at her waist, and found them trembling. She jerked up and twisted to face him. His eyes flew wide when she moved so suddenly, and he started to sit up. She pushed him down with one hand on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
She looked at his face. It was hard to tell in the shade, but he looked paler than before. She should have been watching for this. Now that they had the chance to figuratively lay their weapons down for a moment, of course the severe strain of the night before would catch up to them. Probably not authentic shock; more likely just a traditional panic attack.
“Nothing. Except maybe with you.” She touched his forehead; it felt clammy. “Do you feel sick?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You were shaking.”
He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I was just thinking about… how close it was.”
“Don’t. It’s over. You’re safe.”
“I know, I know.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He laughed once, and she could hear the same sound of hysteria that had been in her own laugh last night. “I know,” he repeated. “I’ll be fine. But what about you? Are you safe?” He pulled her down onto his chest, cradling the damaged side of her face carefully in his long fingers, and whispered into her hair, “I could have lost you, just like that. Everything that means anything to me is gone—I’ve lost my home, my job, my life… I’ve lost myself. I’m hanging on by my fingernails, Alex, and it’s you I’m hanging on to. If something happens to you… I don’t know what that means for me. I don’t know how I keep going. I’m dealing with the rest, Alex, but I can’t lose you, too, I can’t.”
Another shudder ran through his body.
“It’s okay,” she murmured uncertainly, reaching up to rest her fingers against his lips. “I’m here.”
Was that the right thing to say? She didn’t have any experience comforting someone. Even when her mother had been in the last stages of the illness that had killed her, Judy didn’t want sympathy and she didn’t want lies. If Juliana were to say something like You look great today, Mom, Judy’s response was always along the lines of Don’t bother with that nonsense, I have a mirror. It never seemed to occur to Judy that Juliana might need comfort; after all, Juliana wasn’t the one who was dying.
She’d learned early not to seek sympathy for herself; she’d never really known how to show it to someone else. She would be more comfortable with the clinical, explaining that what he was feeling now was just a natural response to the specter of a violent death, but she’d said things like that to him before and she knew they didn’t help. So she found herself mimicking things she’d seen on television, speaking softly, stroking the side of his face.
“We’re okay… it’s over.”
She wondered if she should put the sleeping bag over him, just in case, though it was already sweltering and he didn’t feel cold. Still, she’d already come to the conclusion that he ran at a warmer temperature than she did. Both physically and metaphorically.