World's End

Page 68

My own hands made fists. They loosened again. I

looked down at my naked legs, away from his eyes, and shook my head. The hot breath of the desert whispered around me, stinging me with dust.

"Then say thanks for wasting my supply." He glanced at the empty bottles.

I looked up again, felt my face flushing.

"Forget it," Ang murmured, to someone, to the wind. "Just forget about it. . . ."

Spadrin stood where he was, waiting.

Anger paralyzed my throat. I tried, once, twice, before

I could get the word out. "Thanks."

Spadrin climbed back inside, and let us follow.

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day 49.

At least I think it's day 49. My watch isn't keeping time--even its logic functions are off. The cooling unit isn't in much better condition. Neither am I. Neither are the others, I suppose, but I don't give a damn. It's the middle of the night, and the inside of the rover is barely cool even now. I did the best I

could. I can't do it all alone, without parts, without help.

. . . That's what they expect. Miracles. In this stinking place?

Gods, how I want to go outside, breathe fresh air, even if it has to be here-- But Ang claims it's too dangerous to leave the vehicle at night; that we might lose our way, or ... or what, he won't say. Step on a beetle hive.

I feel those bugs crawling on me, all the time; I can't rest. I itch all over, my eyes water, I start shaking. . . .

Ang says I'm having an allergic reaction. Spadrin grins as if he planned it that way. Ang gave me salves and some kind of antihistamine, or I'd have crawled out of my skin by now. Every bite is oozing and swollen; they

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stick to my clothes; I can't stand touching them but I

have to scratch. ... I hate Spadrin. . . . Gods, I have to stop thinking about it!

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