Chapter Text
It was high noon in the desert that had crawled relentlessly over the country, and those who had survived the past three years were mostly asleep.
Rhett and Link lay beside each other beneath the pitiful shelter of an overpass that had almost been eaten alive by the ever-moving sand. If it weren’t for the jutting concrete structure, neither man would have even known that there was a road nearby. The ground was comfortable enough to sleep on, and they both had ragged bed sheets to use as blankets. The previous night’s travels had been long, arduous, and ultimately fruitless. Though they’d passed through a town, it had been stripped clean of supplies, and it had been two days since a storm had brought any water. There were maybe two gulps left in Link’s canteen, and probably less in Rhett’s. Neither had any clear idea of where they were. Everything had changed – whole cities had been burnt to ash, roads disappeared beneath blowing sand, signs were felled and landmarks were gone entirely or virtually unrecognizable. Like everyone else, they followed the stars, the only thing left that remained eternally the same.
Polaris, the North Star, their guiding beacon in the sky. Link had stared at it night after night for months on end and could swear it was burned into his brain. North was the answer. The desert couldn’t possibly go on forever. If they kept going north, they’d eventually find a cooler climate where the sun and heat didn’t kill you in twenty minutes flat. Vegetation, water, shelter, life. Or at least that was the theory the two men were banking on. Not many were brave enough to undertake such a journey, and most survivors had chosen to join one of the autonomous villages that had sprung into existence amongst the ruins of old cities. Without law and order, the chances of survival there were solely dependent on how useful you were and how well you could defend yourself. Still, it might have been the most attractive option – if it weren’t for the virus.
If he was going to die, Link wanted to die fighting for freedom, not huddled in a stinking quarantine house crippled with pain, forced to watch helplessly as the other vomiting, shaking, moaning victims of the plague died one by one. The terrible virus was more contagious than measles and it caused a slow and awful death. Flu-like throat and chest pain quickly turned into a high fever with intense nausea and diarrhea. Internal haemorrhaging created blood in both vomit and stool, turning both a hideous crimson. Severe weight loss and pain followed and worsened until death.
The virus was quickly eating away at all the remaining strongholds on Earth despite how hard people tried to stop it. Last year, Rhett and Link had been sent to a huge CDC facility in the middle of nowhere in a last ditch effort to isolate those who were still healthy, the government choosing those with university degrees that could prove helpful to a new society. But something had gone wrong, and the virus broke out once again. Panic spread like fire and the officials running the facility had either vanished or died like most of the others.
Surrounded by a brutal desert made even more unforgiving by the climate shift, the other evacuees, over a hundred thousand of them, had mostly chosen to sit down and die amongst whatever loved ones they had left. Only a brave few had chosen to run, Rhett and Link among them. They chose the difficult route – almost due north, straight through the desert. To the west lay disaster, they'd seen that for themselves. To go east meant crossing most of America with few towns to obtain supplies, and there was no telling how high the sea had risen. The east coast itself was gone, and water likely covered much of the low-lying South by now. To the south was only scorched wasteland. Even middle America was facing average daytime temperatures of over 120 degrees – Texas probably looked like Mars.
They had a chance. There was food left, mainly in abandoned households with cold cellars and pantries full of boxes and cans and jars. While they hadn’t passed any major cities, they frequently found small abandoned towns, tiny gas stations and old shacks to raid for clothes, food, and basic hygienic supplies. They carried as much as they could in their backpacks. Water came from the violent storms that rolled blackly overhead every few days. Link would unroll the big tarp from his bag and spread it out on the ground while Rhett held the other side, and when the storm passed there was generally enough water pooled there to satisfy them and partially fill their canteens.
Most importantly, Rhett and Link had each other. If Link didn’t have Rhett, he would have nothing. Rhett was his best friend, his anchor, probably the only person he’d ever known who could have made it this far. Smart and tough, he was the eternal cock-eyed optimist of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s famous song, refusing to give up hope where countless others had fallen into bleak despair.
And so, though he should be asleep, Link was wide-awake and worried sick.
“How’s your arm?” Link whispered to the tall sandy-haired man stretched out beside him. The pain on the older man’s face scared the hell out of Link, as did the sheen of sweat on his brow and the way his breath sounded laboured and hoarse. The situation was serious, no matter how many times Rhett insisted he was okay. There were no hospitals, no nurses or doctors, nobody to call if something went wrong. Out here in the new world, weaklings died fast, and injuries were a guaranteed problem – especially if they got infected.
“I feel fine, Link. I mean, it hurts like the devil, but it ain’t feelin’ like anything but a scratch still,” Rhett insisted. The worry etched into the lines on his dusty face spelled a different story, and when Link turned to the side he could actually feel the heat radiating from the bandages covering Rhett’s arm. Liar, liar.
“You’re so warm,” Link whispered, gnawing at his lower lip. “Did you smell the bandages when you changed them?” His head was spinning. Sleep had never seemed so far away, despite the bone-deep exhaustion that followed every night out in the desert. The word gangrene was flashing crazily in his head, buzzing and flickering like a shitty neon sign. Impossible not to think about it. If it came to that, there weren’t many options. The word amputation was a chilling, oozing undercurrent that leaked into every word he spoke. Neither of them had the courage to say it out loud, but beneath the stubborn charade Link knew Rhett was afraid. Afraid not only for himself, but for Link. They’d only made it for this long because they’d had each other since the very beginning. Together, they’d watched the first television broadcast of the destruction of Tuvalu and the Maldives as they were swallowed by the rising sea. Together, they’d made it through the hellish LA massacre, the murders, the disease, the famine, the long trip east to the CDC facility. Alone, Link wouldn’t last a week out here.
“Go to sleep, Link, we won’t get anywhere tomorrow if we stay up all night worryin’ about me.” Rhett sounded determined. “C’mon, man. Close your eyes and hush up.”
“You should let me have a look at – ”
“Tomorrow, Link. Goodnight.”
“Fine, whatever,” Link muttered, frustration and concern warring for dominance. He sounded sulky, but he couldn’t help it. While Link understood that Rhett didn’t want to think about the worst case scenario, they couldn’t ignore the danger they were in for too much longer. The dang wound was infected. Rhett didn’t want him to see it because it was obvious how bad it had gotten. They had no antibiotics, no food, no water, pitiful shelter. They had no idea where the next town was, and they would have to backtrack for a full day to get to the last inhabited ‘city’ – which, while unfriendly and territorial, had at least offered a roof to sleep under to hide from the blistering sun. Finding another band of survivors and begging for their mercy might be their best chance, and their ‘mercy’ might only be the gift of a quick death.
Medicine was one of the most difficult commodities to come by. The storms and the sea had been deadly, as were the wars that followed, but the biggest loss of life had been from the highly infectious virus known colloquially as the Red Death. Most people agreed that, if it weren’t for the virus, mankind would have already started to adjust to the climate shift. Cities and states would have connected and shared resources. Society would slowly recover.
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.…
That was from Poe’s short story. Link remembered reading it in high school. The normalcy of that time seemed almost too strange. Had it really been just twenty-five years ago? Recalling his days as a teenager made him feel hollow inside. He knew now that he should have appreciated every day far more than he had. Each day that you woke up alive with food and water was a precious gift.
Suddenly, panic fluttered in Link’s chest. What if he dies in his sleep? You want your last words to Rhett to include ‘whatever’? Link groped blindly at his side for Rhett’s uninjured arm. “Rhett, I love you,” he whispered, a bit frantically.
“I love you too. Now don’t get mushy like you’re sayin’ goodbye or somethin’,” Rhett warned. One eye peeped open, olive-coloured in the dim light, and Link smiled even though he wanted to sob. Link rolled over onto his right side, facing Rhett, and finally closed his weary eyes. It felt like it had been a hundred years since he’d had a real night’s sleep.
His dreams, as usual, were torturous.
“Women under thirty, and children only!” a bone-thin woman called out over the assembled masses in the streets of Los Angeles. Half the city was on fire and the other half was underwater, or so it seemed. At least five thousand people had gathered by the planes, a larger group than Link had seen in a long time. People kept to themselves and their families nowadays, for safety and for fear of infection. The planes were heavily guarded by soldiers in full riot gear, and a squadron of helicopters hovered overhead, guns aimed at the crowd. They took no chances.
“Women under thirty, all children! No handicapped, blind, deaf, or sterile. Minor injuries only. No men, we have enough men!”
Faceless uniformed men marched through the crowd, collecting children and young women and organizing them into a line to take to the planes. Link held Christy’s arm in a tight grip as she began to moan, low and terrible, a sound of pure grief. Their daughter, huddled against Christy’s side, started to cry. “Mom, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go!” Her pleads were echoed by her brothers, by all the pitiful, dirty children clinging frantically to parents or siblings or cousins or even strangers who had been taking in orphaned children out of the goodness of their hearts, or out of pure desperation to fill the terrible aching chasm left by a dead child of their own.
Christy met Link’s eyes. She looked half dead already. Her once lustrous hair hung limp and scraggly down her shoulders and her skin was pale and sallow. They had both known this day would come. They were both healthy, but too old for hard labour or childbearing – which were the only requirements for citizens in Haven City, the last unspoilt city in the hemisphere. Their only goal was to ensure the safety of their children. None of them would live to see adulthood unless they were evacuated, and Link knew it. Clumsily, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. Lincoln flung himself into them. Lily and Lando ran to Christy, who had knelt beside her husband.
“Go on, Lily, be brave,” she whispered. “Don’t let go of your brothers’ hands. Walk over to that man in the blue uniform. Stay with him, honey, okay?”
The couple clung to each other, grim and despairing but fiercely proud all the same, as the soldiers moved through the crowd collecting the young evacuees. When Link’s children were hustled into the line, the heartbreak was almost too much to bear. While Christy got back to her feet, Link needed her help just to stand up again. It was all going much too fast. Soon everybody was organized at the foot of the stairs leading up to the planes.
“Is that all?” the woman in the helicopter demanded in her tinny magnified voice. “There’s one more plane. Are there any women under forty, mothers with children being evacuated? Mothers under forty, still healthy, no major injuries, no disabilities. Pre-menopausal. We can take fifty more.”
A chorus of frantic screaming followed this announcement. The soldiers tensed as the crowd surged forward, and yells erupted as those unlucky enough to be too close were beaten back. Hope exploded in Link’s chest and he pushed Christy forward with one arm while his other shoved people aside. “Here!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Here! She has three kids! Three!”
“Link – ” Christy began to say, and then one of the soldiers touched her on the shoulder and urged her forward, protecting her from the mob of people. Without being given the chance for even one last hug or kiss, she was hustled through the crowd away from Link towards the group where their children were. She was crying, but she was alive. He briefly lost sight of her as the crowd jostled him from side to side. But then Link saw her standing by the plane, holding all three of her children in her arms. Their children. Link felt like his heart was being ripped into pieces, yet there was a fierce, burning joy deep within his grief. They had the best chance. Northern Canada, some whispered, or Scandinavia, maybe Svalbard, or even Russia. That was where they took the healthy ones, where the sun hadn’t scorched the life off the face of the earth. Where there were still schools and hospitals, and bloody maggot-filled corpses didn’t litter the streets. Link’s children would live, they would heal. And they would have their mother, who in turn would have them to distract her from thoughts of Link.
Tears burned and stung his eyes, but Link made no move to wipe them away. Crying had become so common he barely noticed it happening. There was nothing Link could do. The evacuations had become so routine that he knew what happened to those that tried to disrupt the process. All interruptions were swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.
A blond man in a tattered red shirt broke free of the crowd and raced after his toddler, falling to his knees and embracing the confused child like a drowning person clutching at a life buoy. Several people shouted warnings, but it was too late. A baton crashed down on the man’s head as a soldier yanked the child away.
Nobody seemed to be shocked at the sight of the man’s blood pooling over the road. Nobody cared. What was one more death? Even Link didn’t care – he was busy frantically searching for one last glimpse of his own family. He needed to see them board the plane. Needed to know they were safe. After that…nothing mattered.
Single file, the evacuees moved slowly into the plane. A familiar blonde head stepped onto the lowest stair, and Link’s heart leapt. Christy turned around only for an instant, and her eyes connected with Link’s almost immediately as she somehow picked him out of the crowd. “I love you,” she mouthed, and Link said it back out loud with his arms outstretched towards her. Then she was gone, and soon the plane was gone too. Link wondered what the huddled mass of remaining people looked like from above. Thousands of defeated, aimless, broken people waiting to die in the lifeless skeleton of what had once been Los Angeles.
Link fell to his knees on the dirty concrete and wouldn’t have stood up again if Rhett hadn’t picked him up and held him close. Where he’d come from, how he’d found Link, none of that mattered. He was alone, and Link knew better than to ask him where his wife and children had gone. He just closed his eyes and put his arms around the large man, the two of them against the world.
**
The angry red glow of the sunset was already fading when Link’s eyes shot open. He sat up immediately, wincing at the new aches and pains that flooded his body. Ignoring his instinctive urge to gulp the rest of his water, he turned to check on Rhett. Relief made him smile. The tall man was sprawled on his back, bandaged arm carefully held at his side and the other pillowed behind his head. His face was ashy but he wasn’t dead yet. Link scooted closer and laid his head on his friend’s chest, closing his eyes happily at the sound of Rhett’s strong heartbeat. Alive.
They had one more day at least. That was worth something.
“Mmm,” Rhett mumbled, exhaling hard in frustration as he tried to lick his cracked and peeling lips. “G’mornin’.”
“Hi,” Link sat up and groaned as he tilted his head from side to side, stretching his sore neck. “How do you feel?”
“The usual.” Rhett moved his limbs carefully, blinking in the darkness. His eyes were somehow too bright in his face. “Like I got hit by a truck. Man, I’m thirsty. We need water, and fast – let’s get moving.”
“I meant your arm.” Link made no move to stand.
“It’s fine. Let’s go. We gotta haul butt. Doesn’t smell like rain’s comin’ tonight.”
“Rhett, come on. I’m serious. How is it?”
Rhett started to shake his head, then stopped at the look on Link’s face. “It…alright, I won’t lie. It feels worse than yesterday. You wanna check?” Rhett’s voice was light, but Link thought he could tell that Rhett was afraid to look himself.
“Sure.” Link tried to sound confident.
Rhett held his arm out obediently, and Link took it gently, laying it across his lap as he peeled away the old tattered shirt they’d tied tightly over the wound. When his eyes fell on the bare skin beneath, Link sucked in a sharp breath and had to fight the urge to vomit. His stomach gave a great lurch of protest. Thick yellow-green pus stained the makeshift bandage along with blood, and Rhett’s entire forearm had darkened to a purplish colour with distinct streaks of red. Everything seemed to be swelling up like a balloon. The skin was so hot that Link could feel it from a foot away, like holding his hand over a heating vent. It wasn’t healing, and it wasn’t going to heal. When Link looked at Rhett’s face, he suddenly registered the new swelling in his neck and knew with a shocking lightning bolt of dread that the larger man’s lymph glands were inflamed. The infection had spread hideously fast overnight and it wasn’t just contained in the arm anymore.
Oh, God, it was just a cut. It was just a little cut! something in Link’s brain screamed. Of all the stupid things…
“How bad is it?” Rhett’s eyes were fixed straight ahead determinedly.
Link just started to cry, more from rage at the unfairness of it all than with grief.
“Don’t,” the big man pleaded faintly. “Link, come on, man, it’s okay. It could be worse, right? You’re still here, you’re still fine. Even if I – ”
“Don’t say it,” Link blurted hysterically. “Don’t say it!”
“If I die – ”
“Shut up, just shut up!” screamed Link, his free hand curling into a fist. Fingernails dug deep into his palms in his desperation, and the pain felt strangely good. Distracting. Rhett’s face was white and his eyes enormous as he stared blankly at Link, frozen in place and shocked into silence at Link’s guttural scream.
What are you thinking? Link berated himself. Yelling at your best friend for trying to plan ahead? What is wrong with you? He tried for a normal tone of voice. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna make you a fresh bandage.” What else could he do? They had nothing sterile to clean it with. No ointment to put on. Link’s hands shook as he tore another strip from the cleanest part of his bed sheet, the only fabric they had left. Was it clean enough? Would it just make it worse? Link didn’t know, but he didn’t have a choice. Rhett broke his eerie silence by groaning low in his throat. The sound nearly unmanned Link. Rhett was tough and generally bore his pain in silence. To hear such a resigned, pained noise from him told Link just how intense his friend’s suffering was.
“I’m sorry,” Rhett whimpered. “Fuck, it hurts real bad. I can’t hide it anymore. Throbbing through my whole arm. Makin’ my head feel weird too.” A fresh trickle of pus burbled out of the wound, and Link’s head swam as he held back another urge to retch. Quick as he could, he covered the exposed gash with the strip of fabric and tied it in place. When he finished, Link had to sit down and just breathe to avoid passing out.
“Can you walk?” Link finally asked when he felt almost human again. Carefully, he got to his feet and stretched his limbs.
“I think so. Guess I have to. I ain’t sittin’ down to die,” Rhett huffed, and pushed himself determinedly to his feet. “Come on, Link, let’s go.” He began to walk towards Polaris, his gait awkward and shuffling.
“But what if – ”
“What if what? We can’t stay here. There’s nothin’ around for miles!”
“You can barely walk,” Link pointed out, helplessly. Rhett just shrugged and pushed on, forcing Link to follow. What else could they do? As Rhett said, they couldn’t stay under the overpass forever. They’d made it too far to give up just yet.
The night went by agonizingly slowly. The two men were moving at a snail’s pace, taking frequent breaks to sit down and catch their breath. The last trickles of water in their canteens were gone before midnight, and dehydration sapped their energy fast. It didn’t take long for Rhett to falter, and Link had to let the big man lean heavily on him. Every time Rhett stumbled, he cried out in pain at the sudden movement in his wounded arm. Link fought the urge to scream, wishing to God that he could take away some of Rhett’s suffering and endure it himself. The younger man tried to make conversation to pass the time, even making jokes and teasing the blond like they used to. Rhett tried hard to play along, but after a few hours he fell silent except for the occasional pained gasps and whimpers.
Link kept talking just to fill the void. He replayed events from their past as if they were stories Rhett hadn’t heard before. He talked about school and work and all the people they’d met and the places they’d been, not caring that his babbling made the thirst scraping his throat even worse. “I wonder where we are by now? We’ve been on the move for seven months already, can you believe that? They said we wouldn’t make it a week out here in the desert, but here we are. Couldn’t have done it without you, Rhett. This desert’s gotta end sometime. You’ll see. Can you imagine how easy we’ll have it once we find a river or a lake or somethin’?”
The wind howled mournfully, and Link spit out the sand that blew into his mouth. “I think it must be late August. What do you think? I bet we’ll find grape vines up north, big sweet purple grapes to eat. Corn’s ripe too, prolly. Remember that day we ate the spinning corn on the cob on Good Mythical Morning?” Link swallowed back the urge to cry at the thought of those days. “I’d do anything for somethin’ to eat right now, even somethin’ with tomatoes on it. Even that nasty vegan chili dog. Season seven, remember? I’d eat the whole thing right now and ask for seconds.”
“Jessie,” Rhett said suddenly. His head jerked up and he looked around. “Jessie…?”
“Nah, man, I’m Link, remember?” Link tried to be playful despite the icy dread stealing over his heart. “I’m not as pretty as Jessie.”
“It’s my turn to drive,” Rhett said, his words slurring together like he was drunk. “Gotta get gas at the next stop. The rest of the…Did you call Bill back, honey? Jessie?”
“Oh, God,” Link said aloud, looking over to see Rhett blinking confusedly at the desert landscape, his eyes totally unfocused. The man was delirious.
“Bill Gossmann,” Rhett announced, and smiled lopsidedly. “Got his number on a Post-It. It’s on the – on the fridge. Gotta remember to charge my phone. My phone. I cracked my phone screen. Who is that?”
“Rhett, this way. Walk this way with me.” Link pulled at Rhett’s arm, but his fevered friend seemed to be distracted by things only he could see.
“I’ll be home by six o’clock.” Without warning, Rhett pushed Link’s arm away and marched on ahead, veering hard to the left. Link staggered from the unexpected change in his centre of gravity and fell to one knee in the sand. His palm shot out to catch himself just in time to avoid falling face-first into a cluster of sharp rocks. Rhett’s shuffling feet stirred up fine particles of grit that caught in the breeze and whipped into Link’s eyes.
“Rhett! Watch out!”
But it was too late. Link’s stinging eyes cleared and he watched helplessly as his best friend fell at the top of the hill they’d been walking alongside and disappeared from sight. Horror-struck, Link got up and ran to where he’d fallen, looking down to see Rhett as he rolled and slid the length of the short slope, coming to a sudden halt in a great cloud of dust as the ground flattened out again.
“Rhett!” Link screamed, chasing him down the slope. He appeared unhurt, and was already sitting up, the same dazed expression on his face.
“Hah,” he grunted as Link approached. “You’re…How’re you so tall?”
“Cause you’re sittin’ down, Rhett,” Link whispered, trying to smile. “Come on, big guy, get up.” Oh, please, get up.
“I’m six-foot-seven,” Rhett informed him, as if they’d just met. He took the hand Link offered, and his face suddenly cleared as he rose to his feet. “Link?” he asked wonderingly, his voice faint. “Hey…hey man. I’m thirsty. My throat hurts real bad. Where are we? Can I have some juice? You look different…your hair…” Rhett trailed off, then frowned and slowly held up his bandaged arm. “Ow. I…think I hurt myself. Oh, wow, what did I do?”
Pain filled him. It sounded like his old Rhett, the one before the end of the world. Still tough, but softer, unafraid to be vulnerable in front of Link if he had to. He reached out and touched Rhett’s hand to stop him from trying to look under the bandage. “Shhh, Rhett, I know you’re thirsty. I know it hurts. Don’t talk so much. Just come on this way, we gotta move.”
“Gotta go where?” Rhett slurred, still looking closely at Link with bewilderment in his glassy fever-bright eyes. Link understood his confusion. His own mental image of Rhett was a far cry from the man who stood before him now. They were both older, both wilder-looking, with thinner bodies and the slightly rounded stomachs of those who were no stranger to bouts of famine.
“This way,” Link announced with as much confidence as he could muster. “We’re almost there. Trust me, okay? We’re gonna make it…somewhere.”
Rhett’s face cleared. “I trust you,” he said instantly, and Link felt the weight of that trust settle upon his shoulders. There had been so many times when it had been Link who was unsure, full of self-criticism and doubt and anxiety, and Rhett had been the one to smile and tell him to keep his chin up and move on. Now it was Link’s turn to take care of Rhett.
“I’ve got you, Rhett,” Link said firmly. “I’ve got you. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? No matter what it takes.”
Rhett’s feet dragged and his head lolled forward, but he pushed on, panting with the effort. He needed to rest – they both did – but there was simply no time left. Another hill loomed ahead, its incline gentle but merciless. Link felt as though he was walking in an endless void, staring at the sky as it began to turn from black to a deep blue. In another hour or so, the sun would announce itself obnoxiously, sending the temperatures skyrocketing upwards into the death zone.
“NC State’s havin’ a good year,” Rhett observed out of nowhere, staring dreamily ahead without the slightest idea of how close they were to a horrible death by exposure. “A good…I don’t…Don’t like the way the ground moves. Sandy. I don’t…”
“Me neither,” Link agreed miserably, wondering if Rhett’s daze was a better alternative to him understanding what was happening. And I told him to trust me. The sky was now nearly light blue at the horizon, and Link reached for Rhett’s good arm to hold his hand. His thoughts were turning morbid. He wondered if unconsciousness would come swiftly for Rhett, making his end relatively fast. Link was probably in for a longer, more drawn out death. At least hyperthermia would take him before dehydration.
Rhett yanked his hand hard and Link forced his brain to stop the awful imagery. “Where is the car?” Rhett asked in irritation. “Dangit, Link, can you go get me a Coke?”
“We’re almost – ” Link started to lie, to make up a destination, but then stopped dead at the sight of what lay in the distance. For a moment he wondered if he too had gone delirious and was imagining things. Was it a mirage? A hallucination brought on by his dehydration? No – it was real! It had to be! They’d spent the previous night under an overpass, which meant a big road – which meant there had to be cities nearby. It made perfect sense.
“Look! Over there – a town! Come on, Rhett. We can make it!”
The sheer joy in his voice was enough to convince the disoriented Rhett, who perked up and smiled lopsidedly through his grimace of pain as he let Link tug him onward.
Town was being generous. It was barely a village – a hamlet at best. It was a small collection of maybe thirty houses and a larger concrete building that might have been a garage, plus the skeleton of what could have been a gas station. Piles of burnt rubble and broken timbers indicated that it had once been somewhat bigger, but whatever the village was called before, it was now an abandoned graveyard. But it was shelter, and a potential windfall of supplies. Maybe if Rhett just had food and water, he would heal. Or maybe you’re as addled as he is, a nasty voice in Link’s head mocked.
Link shook his head to clear it. Behind the biggest remaining house lay an enormous but unassuming A-frame barn. It was the closest structure, so Link gently steered Rhett towards it. Inside would be hot as Hades but the roof would protect them from the dangerous sun. “Let’s get inside that barn before the sun comes up,” Link said firmly. It might not be the most comfortable choice, but the closer the better. Rhett’s strength was damn near gone, and Link was going to make good on his promise and take care of him as long as he could. Sleep would help.
The large man’s delirious, nonsensical bursts of speech had once again turned to silence. His feet moved pathetically in little baby steps, following Link’s lead now, but he couldn’t seem to hear anything Link was saying to him.
The door to the barn was locked, but that didn’t bother Link. “Stay here,” he told Rhett, as if the man was capable of going anywhere. “I’ll unlock the door, okay?”
When he let go of Rhett’s arm carefully, the blond somehow managed to stay standing, although his shoulders were slumped and his head dangled uselessly like a zombie from that ancient TV show they used to watch together. Link took off his shirt, wrapped it around his hand and punched one of the windows hard enough to make him yelp in pain. The glass cracked, but didn’t shatter, so Link hit it again, aiming for the centre of the crack. This time the entire pane gave way with an ear-splitting crash. Glass shards rained down at his feet, and Link brushed the window-frame clear very carefully. All they needed was another injury to deal with.
“Success,” he boasted loudly so Rhett could hear him. Rhett mumbled something that Link didn’t catch as he eased himself through the window and over to the front door. To his surprise and relief, the sliding deadbolt moved easily, and the big wooden door swung open without so much as a squeak.
Rhett’s head slowly perked up at the sight, blinking in confusion as if he’d just woken up. “Link, where are we?”
“We found an abandoned barn. We’re gonna sleep in it so we don’t burn to death out there.” A trickle of unease filtered through Link’s mind as he reached for his friend’s arm to lead him inside. What if the barn wasn’t abandoned? They hadn’t even checked for signs of people, and now Link had gone and broken in like some common looter. If Rhett hadn’t started to fall over at that moment, Link might have noticed a few tell-tale hints of the danger they were in – footsteps leading between the barn and several of the small houses, the tire tracks in the distance, the crudely dug well with a big metal bucket perched on a rock beside it. However, it took all of Link’s concentration to grab Rhett without hurting him and half carry, half drag the huge man into the shelter of the barn. Link was just beginning to notice how exhausted he was from carrying Rhett’s weight all night.
Rhett’s eyes were still strangely glassy, but he looked as though he was aware now of where he was and what was happening. “I’m…so tired, Link. So dang tired. Wish…wish my dang head would stop spinning. Feels like my body’s going numb all over.” He shivered, though his face was hot as fire when Link anxiously put a hand to his forehead.
“No, no, no,” Link chanted under his breath, and then said more loudly: “Come on, Rhett, you’re okay. You gotta be okay, man.”
“I’m okay,” Rhett managed faintly, but clearly. “Thanks for gettin’ us here…for takin’ care of me…even if…” He trailed off, and his eyes went to the ceiling. “You should’ve just taken my supplies and left me.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Link said sharply. “I told you that I’m gonna take care of you no matter what. Let’s rest for a bit, get our strength back,” he suggested as if it wasn’t the only option left. Rhett nodded, then collapsed on the dusty floor. Link did the same, arranging himself on his back pressed close to his companion, filled with relief that Rhett’s bout of delirium seemed to have passed but dreading the possibility that he might wake up next to a corpse.
Exhaustion prevailed over anxiety for once, and Link was asleep before he’d even laid his head down.
**
“Hey, Link.”
Link was enjoying a pleasant dream for once. He was back on his university campus, checking his watch to make sure he wasn’t late. The world was richly coloured in the beautiful oranges and reds of autumn, and the scent on the wind hinted at the coming winter. There was no danger here. No reason to creep along quietly, anxiously turning his head in all directions. No reason to despair. He pulled open the door and wrinkled his nose. Why did the engineering building smell so strongly of food? His stomach rumbled. Did he have time for a snack before class?
“Link, guess what.”
“Hmmm?” Link stirred, slowly rising from a sleep so deep it was like coming back from the dead. His forehead creased as he smelled something strange, and his nose twitched frantically as it tried to decipher what it was sensing. He knew what it was – the answer was on the tip of his tongue. Maddening, the way his brain was so sludgy when he woke up. Link heard a rough, dry, very familiar chuckle.
“Look what I made,” Link heard Rhett say. Link forced his eyes open, happy to hear his friend’s voice, but still disoriented. It took him a long time to register the source of his confusion.
“Is that…baked beans?” he asked, incredulous. Once he said it out loud, it became obvious. “Rhett! You have beans!” Then reality hit him. “Rhett! You’re okay!”
The tall man laughed heartily if a little weakly, his voice subdued but clear. “Yep to the beans, and not so much to the ‘okay’ part. Still got a heck of a fever and I feel horrible. But I’m better than I was yesterday.”
“Jesus.” Link bolted to his feet so fast it made him dizzy. His limbs were limp noodles and his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. “How, what – where did you – what’s going on!”
Rhett laughed again, his face tight as if the motion hurt him a little. Though his neck still looked swollen and the wound was obviously painful, he looked far more alive than he had the night before. “Look around you, Link! We hit the dang jackpot!”
He looked. There was a literal pyramid of canned goods stacked against the opposite wall. Link’s mouth dropped open. Canned ravioli, baby corn, peas and carrots, beans, beets, tuna. Pickles and peppers. Pigs’ feet in brine, and Spam. Jams or jellies or fruit preserves without labels, maybe homemade. “Oh, my goodness!” he exclaimed. “What on earth – how – why didn’t we see this when we came in?”
“’Cause we were dead on our feet. I don’t even remember getting inside, to be honest. I remember seeing some crazy things. Thought I was back in North Carolina for a while, except you kept popping up everywhere and talking to me. I remember falling down a hill and you helping me up – and then nothin’.” He paused his speech to take a long drink of water from his canteen. Link looked at it with wide eyes, and Rhett smiled. “We missed the big rain barrel last night, too.” He rolled Link’s canteen towards him. “Filled yours up.”
The words were barely out of Rhett’s mouth when Link snatched it up and began to gulp messily, slurping up what didn’t make it in his mouth and nearly crying at how good it felt to quench his thirst. The water was cool and free of grit or any distinguishable bad taste. It was heavenly. It flowed down his throat like the nectar of the gods, its life-giving energy spreading all over his body.
“Oh, Rhett,” he gasped, hiccupping. “This is…this can’t be real, I must have died in my sleep.”
“I’d think the same thing if my arm didn’t feel like it was on fire.” Rhett said, a bit dryly. “Tell you what, though – the pain is manageable when my stomach is full like this. Yesterday I was sure I’d die by sunrise. Then when I woke up, I still thought I was gonna be dead by noon. I was seein’ double and I felt cold all over. Then I saw the food.” He held his injured arm against his chest. “Somehow I plowed through a can of tuna, and then I had some peaches, and I felt almost human again.”
“Beans! Gimme.” Link made grabby hands at the half-eaten can, and Rhett handed it to him with another chuckle.
“Go slow,” Rhett reminded him. “Don’t puke.”
“I know, I know.”
Link was accustomed to dealing with this level of starvation. He ate as slowly as he could manage, tilting the can to pour the sauce and beans straight into his mouth, until he felt refreshed and alert. When he was finished, for the first time in many weeks, his throat didn’t feel parched and papery and his stomach was actually full. Not just satisfied, but full. Energy pulsed through his limbs and he felt ready to take on the world.
“I think that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” Link exclaimed, using his long tongue to try and collect the sauce remnants on the inside of the can. “Goodness, I feel amazing. Is the sun down yet?”
“Almost, I think.”
“Good, good.” Link took a deep breath, evaluating the newest developments. The most urgent needs of food, water, and shelter were taken care of, but they were still far from being out of the woods. Rhett was still suffering, and it was only going to get worse. “So what do we do now? Pack as much as we can and keep moving, after I look through those houses?”
Rhett just smiled tiredly. “Ah, Link, I don’t think so.”
“Wait – what?”
“I’m done, man. You know it too. You can’t lie for beans.” His eyes crinkled up at the corners in amusement at this pun. “You go ahead and look, and then come back here for one more day to hang out with me. Eat up while you can and take off on your own the next night.”
Link felt his jaw clench. “I’m not leaving. I’m not gonna leave. I’m gonna find a way to fix this no matter what. Fix you.”
“Come on, Link. We have to face reality.”
“No matter what,” he emphasized fiercely.
Rhett shook his head. “You always were too dang stubborn. You know it’s the only way. Hey – do you think these are cherry preserves?” he asked, switching the subject suddenly. He held up a jar for Link’s inspection.
Link ignored this lousy distraction. He stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna go search, find you some medicine. Even a bottle of alcohol or somethin’ to wash your arm in.” Or a damn bone saw, that cruel voice in his head added. Stop clinging to false hope. Even Rhett thinks you’re being foolish.
“’Kay,” Rhett obviously decided not to call him out on the futility of the mission. “I’ll stay here. I just want to take a nap. That food made me tired again.” Slowly, he sat down and leaned his back against the wall. “Don’t look so worried. I told you I feel way better than I did. I’m not hallucinating anymore. Must’ve been the starvation and dehydration makin’ the fever worse. We’ll still have a whole day to hang out before you go.”
Link ignored that, too. “Keep drinkin’ water, okay?” Link only hesitated for a second before leaning down to kiss Rhett’s damp forehead, then helped him settle onto his back. The smaller man tucked the blanket around his friend’s body and then folded his own sheet into a thin pillow, which he slid beneath the sandy head to provide what little comfort he could. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.
The clear purple twilight was descending over the world as Link stepped outside. He took a deep breath, listening to the whispering of the sand as it moved with the strong wind. Suddenly he was aware that his bladder felt ready to burst. Link circled around to the back of the barn to pee into the sand, weirdly grateful for the distraction. His brain felt like it was full of bouncing rubber balls frantically pinging around, each with its own individual worry.
A groan tumbled from his lips as he got his pants open and let go. It was ridiculous, really, the weird things he missed. Peeing normally, without worrying about the fluid being lost or what colour it was, checking his level of dehydration. Or not having to aim into a little pot so they could boil the gross stuff in a solar still and collect droplets of steam that trickled into a dirty cup for drinking water. Link finished his business with a great sigh of relief, and only then did he notice the distinct, fresh tire tracks cutting through the sand. They came from the village and headed off into the desert along what might have been a riverbed or a road or an old trail.
Link’s heart pounded and his palms grew sweaty. Looters had been here, and recently. Maybe while they had slept. Cautiously, he began to follow the tracks towards the humble group of houses, fully aware that he was leaving his own footprints but knowing he had nothing to sweep them away. The sand would obscure them soon enough. When he’d gotten far enough that he noticed that he could no longer see the barn, Link stopped, afraid to leave Rhett alone. What in the world was he supposed to do now? What if there were still people looking through one of the houses? They might be friendly, but they also could very likely be sick with the red death, or quick to kill. Cannibalism was not unknown in these desperate times, nor were other inhuman acts of savagery.
But the village looked empty and none of the houses appeared to have had been broken into. Such a bland and featureless town this was. Even before the country’s fall, this must have been a miserable place to live. Stealing glances left and right to ensure he was still alone, Link crept up to the nearest two-story rat trap and circled the property. The windows had sheets or blankets hung over them, but that didn’t mean there were any people living inside. When the climate had started to get out of whack, a lot of people had covered their windows in such a fashion. Likely there had been survivors here, once upon a time. Probably they were dead now. It was as silent as the grave, no pun intended.
Link was seized by the sudden, surreal feeling that he was still dreaming. The air was too still and his body felt weirdly on edge, skin prickling and hair standing up. Weird was the only way he could describe it. Probably, he deduced, it was because it was the first time he’d ever walked around like this alone. Rhett was always by his side. Always.
Was this how it was going to be from now on, assuming he survived long enough? The isolation threatened to choke him, and the constant howling noise of the wind could drive anyone mad. No wonder they’d seen so many single people kill themselves. It was always the ones with family and friends who attempted to survive. Link reached down in his heart for that one feeling he could always count on to carry him through when his thoughts took a turn for the dark side. That feeling was hope – and it just wasn’t there. It left a Rhett-sized hole in his heart.
Link’s mouth twisted briefly, but he swallowed down the urge to scream. A glimmer at his feet caught his eye, and he bent down automatically to see what it was. At closer inspection he was startled to find that it was a crushed Coke can, and the normalcy of it made him smile without much amusement.
The smile quickly withered and died when he saw the butt of a cigarette beside it.
The end was still smoking faintly.
“What do we have here?” a strange voice cut through the air. “Who are you?”
Link jumped about a foot in the air and whipped around to see a hulking red-haired man that had managed to creep up behind him from around the side of the house. Terror seized him. The man had a brown freckled face and hard features, with light ginger eyebrows and coppery facial hair. Maybe forty-five years old or thereabouts. He was not as tall as Rhett, but still well over six feet, broad-shouldered with the fit, vascular arms of a weightlifter gone slightly to seed with age. Not that anyone was lifting weights these days. Thoughts raced through Link’s mind as he tried to analyze the smile on the man’s thin lips. It was definitely not friendly, yet not completely aggressive. He looked healthy enough – no sign of the sickness – but there was a certain interest in those squinted, deeply set eyes that made Link’s stomach twist and turn.
“Hi,” Link said, forcing his face into what he hoped was a friendly look. “I’m sorry, I was just exploring…”
“You the one that broke into my barn?” the man interrupted. “You thievin’ bastard!”
“That was your barn?” Link asked stupidly, eyes darting around for an escape route as he took a step backward.
“Well, fuck me, you’re a genius,” the huge man growled. “I just said that, didn’t I? Yup, this is my village. You broke in through the window, huh? Raided our food stash?”
Uh oh. It wasn’t like he could deny it. Link swallowed hard, wondering what the man was going to do to him. “Yes.”
“Just you, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“Travelling alone? That ain’t too smart now, is it?” The stranger cocked his head to the side, waiting for Link to respond. When all he got was silence, he took another two steps towards Link. “Is there someone still in the barn?” he asked, his voice low and threatening.
Link hesitated. Should he lie? If the guy was gonna kill him, Rhett might have a chance to hide before he was killed, too. Hide where? he asked himself a bit frantically. The man can barely walk and you think he’s gonna be able to escape somewhere on his own? And if this stranger wasn’t already planning on killing Link, the lie might anger him enough to prompt him into doing so.
“I – ” he stuttered out, and then cursed at himself. He was a crappy liar, just like Rhett said. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “My friend is in there.”
“I know.” A deep belly laugh. Link wanted to punch him. “My friends already found him. Just testin’ you. Good thing you’re honest.”
Link’s stomach turned over. “Is he okay? What did you do to him?”
“Whoa, now! We ain’t savages, he’s fine. One of my boys might’ve roughed him up a bit, but hey, he’s a big guy and you gotta protect your own. Made sure he was unarmed, that’s all. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Guess you wanna see him? Go on, move it. Back to the barn.”
“Please,” was all Link could manage, wondering how badly they’d hurt Rhett. How much more could the big man endure? The redhead motioned with an arm for Link to go first. As he passed, Link shot the other man a quick evaluating glance and noticed the gun holster at the man’s side. Oh, dear God.
Was he going to shoot them both outside where it wouldn’t make a mess? Make them walk a ways from the village to save the trouble of dragging away their bodies? Would he have to watch Rhett go first? Was this how their journey ended? His anxiety was making him sick, but there was nothing else to do but move along as ordered. Slowly, Link began to follow his own footsteps back to where he’d started.
At least we had one last good meal.
A cry of “Link!” snapped him out of his morbid thoughts. Link looked up to see Rhett standing just outside of the barn in front of a small group of people, one of whom loomed over the tall blond from behind threateningly. Rhett didn’t look as though he’d been beaten up or otherwise harmed, but Link didn’t like the way they were surrounded like this. He could tell that Rhett was trying very hard to hide his injured arm, to look more tough than he was.
Just last night the man had been almost dead, calling Link by his wife’s name and barely able to walk. Link felt a rush of pride for his friend’s strength. He ignored the muttering onlookers and rushed forward to embrace Rhett like they hadn’t seen each other in years. Frantically, both men stepped apart at arms length and searched each other’s eyes. Rhett still looked worn and tired, but there was no sign that he’d been assaulted.
“Did they do anything to you?” Link demanded softly. “Are you okay?”
Rhett shook his head. “They just patted me down. Took my knife and looked through my pack.”
“Your arm – ” whispered Link, as quietly as he could, feeling a slow burn of anger deep in his stomach.
“Only jostled it a bit. Hurts like crazy but I didn’t let ‘em know it. Gotta be tough, right?”
Link nodded jerkily and hugged him again, admiring his friend’s bravery for the millionth time. “We’re in a bit of a situation, huh?” he muttered, and Rhett made a face in agreement.
“Alright, little lovebirds, I told ya I didn’t hurt nobody,” the redhead interjected. “We need to talk, fellas.”
Reluctantly, Link turned away to face the group of villagers, who formed a rough semi-circle around the two men. They were all visibly armed and looked tough as nails. The redhead who had accosted Link appeared to be their leader, and he took his place front and centre, arms crossed over his chest.
“So how’re you two gonna pay for the damage you did, and the food you took?” he asked bluntly.
Rhett and Link looked at each other, neither of them knowing what to say. “We have nothing,” Rhett finally said, his voice hoarse. “Just our clothes, our backpacks…”
“We know,” a Hispanic man with black eyes and round cheeks muttered. “We searched your shit. Try harder.”
“Shut up, Hector. Well, boys, it seems to me like you oughta have somethin’ to trade,” the large redhead said. “You’re trespassin’ on my property and you took our food and our water. If I killed you both, some folks would call it mercy. Lucky for you, I’m a nice guy. I don’t wanna kill nobody. How are we gonna fix this little problem?”
“We didn’t mean to take anything,” Rhett said hurriedly, stepping forward to grip Link’s elbow in warning. The smaller man had gone rigid, and Rhett was well acquainted with Link’s tendency to start fights and say things that ended with him getting into trouble. “And we don’t have anything to give you. We’re sorry. We’ll leave right after the sun goes down.”
“Rhett,” Link hissed. “One more night, we need one more night to rest up, you know we do, we need to do somethin’ about your arm! You’re barely standin’ up.” He addressed the other group more loudly. “Can we please spend one more night here? Just to sleep in your barn again. We don’t need to take anything else from you.”
A couple of them laughed. The burly redheaded leader shook his head with a wry smile. “You’re a real piece of work, aren’tcha? You break into our barn, eat our food, and now you want a free place to squat so you can get some more beauty sleep?” He shook his head, bemused. “Get a load’a this, Hector, Greg.” He gestured at the short, muscular Latino and the forty-something man with a bald head and a startling resemblance to Mr. Clean. “These guys think we’re gonna take ‘em in outta the goodness of our hearts.”
The cronies laughed dutifully and Redhead went on. “Tell you what, I’ll let you stay if you can work off your debt. What can you do? You know your way around cars? We could use some mechanical work. Our truck’s been actin’ up and we need that sucker for supply runs. We got a car too but it can’t haul much.”
“Well…I could take a look…” Link began lamely, stalling for time as he frantically searched his mind for some service he could offer, some way to prove his usefulness. He didn’t know anything about fixing trucks. He could change tires and pump gas and do basic repairs, but he was no mechanic, and neither was Rhett.
“Wait a minute, Roy,” Hector said. “That one’s hurt or sick or somethin’, look!” He pointed at Rhett, who grimaced and shot an apologetic look at Link.
The leader – Roy – put a hand to the gun at his belt, and Link couldn’t help but cry out, “No!”
“If you brought the red death into my village,” Roy said flatly, “he dies right now, and you can go dig his grave and yours before I shoot you too. Jesus-fucking-Christ! What’s next?”
“He’s not sick!” Link blurted, horrified at man’s callousness. “Please! It’s just a cut. It wasn’t serious, but it’s gotten infected.”
“Gangrene?” a skinny straw-haired man asked with faint interest. “We got an axe. Larry ‘n me will help hold him down.”
“God! No, it’s – not that bad, not yet.” Link was fully, horribly aware at what they would have to do if things did get that bad. Rhett’s face had gone pale with fear at the suggestion, and it spurred Link’s need to take action. “We need antibiotics,” he said firmly. “Something to clean the wound with. We were searching…” He was frantic. Supply runs, they said, they have a car, they could find something, a pharmacy or whatever, if only we had some-fucking-thing to give them in return! Link had to literally bite his tongue to keep from pleading, yelling, and screaming all at once.
Roy looked him up and down. “We got some penicillin, and Mason’s good at flushin’ and stitchin’ wounds – he was a paramedic – but that shit ain’t cheap,” he said, as if they didn’t know. “You’re already in debt. You two better figure out a game plan, here. As it stands, my best offer is two free bullets between your eyes. It’d save your friend there the agony of a long slow death, and you from starvation. Somethin’ tells me you wouldn’t last too long out there on your own.” He smirked as he took in Link’s thin body.
Conversation broke out amongst the crowd, while Rhett began asking one of the men questions about the broken truck in a falsely confident voice. Link was drowning in hopelessness, his mind racing as he tried to think of some skill or service he could learn or something he could find that would encourage the man to let them stay as long as possible. They had penicillin, and someone with medical training – what were the odds? This was their only chance.
Then Roy’s eyes met Link’s, and a shocking electric jolt shook the smaller man to the core. He was being coolly evaluated in a way he’d never been before, like a farmer scanning his litter of pigs to find the runt so he could take it out and kill it. As Link stared back, Roy’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips while his hand moved subtly to cup the front of his jeans. Then he lifted the hand to his mouth and made a crude gesture with his tongue and curled hand, and smiled when Link nodded before even thinking about it, eyes wide as saucers.
“Okay,” Roy said loudly, and the conversation died. “I think I’m feelin’ nice today. Might be I’m a softie, but I think I have somethin’ in mind for the little guy to do. I got some things that need fixin’, and I think he can help.” Striding over to Link, the redhead put a comradely arm over his shoulders. The hairs on the back of Link’s neck stiffened at the touch. Rhett tensed visibly, eyes narrowing.
“Sounds good,” Link said loudly. “I, um. I can help you with – whatever you want.” He winced, consumed with fear and shame, and he prayed fervently that Rhett hadn’t noticed what Roy had so subtly suggested.
“Good, good.” Roy nodded at his cronies. “I’ll bring him in my house, show ‘im what needs to be done. You girls take a hike. Don’t you have your own shit to do?”
Most of the guys shrugged and wandered off. Link felt a dim sense of relief that he’d only have to deal with Roy, although he still felt sick to his stomach.
“What can I do?” Rhett asked casually, struggling to maintain a straight face as if he felt fine.
“You sleep. What do we need some cripple for? Go lay down in the barn and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Should someone guard him?” the Mr. Clean-looking one asked.
“Shit, do you need someone to guard an unarmed guy who can barely stand up straight?” Roy rolled his eyes. “What’s he gonna do? But do what you want, sissy. And you,” he said to Link, when the three men stood alone in the desert. “Meet me at that house there in half an hour.” He pointed and stomped away without another word, leaving Rhett and Link huddled together in the blowing sand.
“Come on,” Link said to him. “Let’s get you comfortable. Drink some water and try to rest up before you faint.” He tried to sound jovial and light-hearted. Rhett nodded, his brow creasing as he scanned Link’s face, aware of something unspoken. To Link’s great relief, the big man didn’t ask any further questions. Once inside the barn, he lay down peaceably and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“Don’t worry,” Link said, smoothing Rhett’s hair from his brow. “I’ll see if I can get some of that medicine for you. I’ll figure something out. I’ll do anything for you, Rhett. You’re gonna be fine, okay?”
“Be careful,” the blond said, his voice fading. “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Link said with fake confidence, suppressing a shudder. “I’ve got this.”
He sat down on the floor, praying that he could be as brave as Rhett. After a moment’s hesitation he laid down to spoon the handsome blond. Propped up on one elbow so he wouldn’t fall asleep and anger Roy by failing to show up, Link began to rub and massage Rhett’s tense shoulders. Rhett’s pleased little noises and the physical contact with his best friend helped soothe Link's frazzled nerves, and he tried hard to draw as much comfort and courage from Rhett’s presence while he could.