to just half and every hour slowed them even further. Their thirst was no longer a simple agonizing craving. Every second brought greater and greater damage to their bodies. Another twelve hours would lead to severe and possible irreversible kidney damage. After that, death would be quick.
The sun approached at five, rouging the sky. Amazingly, Mercer and Selome had traveled nearly twenty miles, their route eastward more direct as the gaps between mountains widened. Still there were untold miles remaining, and as Mercer began searching for another cave in which to hole up, he knew they would never see the end of their journey. When the sun went down again, they might cover a few more miles, but most likely, this stop would be their last. In desperation, Mercer sucked at the blood that dripped from his cracked lips.
His eyes were nearly closed by dehydration and the fast-approaching sunrise. Beyond a few feet, everything was a dazzling white. The gritty pain in his eyes was nothing compared to the thirst that blistered the back of his tongue. The pebble he kept in his mouth could no longer trick his salivary glands into producing, so it lay like a boulder. His body screamed for water, and his mind was beginning to drift into fantasy. He could hear a stream just a few hundred yards ahead, and even the breeze carried its sharp clean smell. But as they approached, the illusion moved ahead, establishing another goal that he slogged toward mechanically.
He had forgotten about Selome until he felt her collapse against his legs. He was too weak to break his own fall, and his head rebounded against the sand. It took him several long minutes to realize she had lapsed into unconsciousness. He looked into the murk ahead of them and saw they had come to the side of yet another mountain, a solid wall of rock that stretched beyond his vision. He blinked hard, but he could see nothing that would lead them around this latest obstacle.
Wriggling slowly, like a snake shedding its skin, he slid out of his pack. Had he given any thought to what he was about to do, he wouldn’t have attempted it, but he and Selome were beyond the point of choice. Mercer’s arms had been darkened by the sun until his skin was the color of leather. He drew a pocket knife from his pants, fumbled until he could get the smaller, sharper blade open, and without pause drew it across his arm.
He half expected dust to blow out from the wound, but a steady line of blood welled up and quickly, so as not to lose even a drop, he pressed the gash to Selome’s mouth. Consciously, she never would have broken mankind’s oldest taboo, but her body craved the liquid and her throat gently pumped as the life-giving fluid eased her agony. Even as he continued to hold his arm to her lips, Mercer could see her regaining awareness. Before she could realize what he’d done, he drew his arm away, binding it with a cloth and wiping her face clean. He was leaning over her when her eyes fluttered open.
“What happened?”
“You passed out. You hit pretty hard and gave yourself a split lip. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He could see her tongue moving around experimentally, feeling for the source of the taste in her mouth.
“Sun’ll be up in a few minutes. We need to find shelter. Can you walk?”
Selome nodded, but when she tried to stand, she fell back. She shot him a pleading, frightened look.
“By now you can’t weigh much more than the backpack.” He tried to smile, but his face wouldn’t cooperate. “I’ll carry you.”
He ignored her unbelieving expression and tucked her into his arms, lifting her off the ground so easily she was stunned. He set her on her feet, turned to present his back, and stooped to make it easier for her to climb onto him. “This will be the final boarding call for the Mercer Limited. Those waiting for another train should remain on the platform.”
Selome was slender under normal conditions and had lost several pounds in the past forty-eight hours, but her weight was staggering. Mercer closed his mind to the pain and started out again, Selome’s chin resting against his shoulder so he could feel her steady breathing in his ear. He had no illusions of carrying her all the way to the Adohba River. He’d be lucky to find a cave in the next few minutes. Once the sun erupted over the mountains, his strength would leave him for the last time.
“Selome, I can’t really see anymore. You have to keep an eye out for another cave.” His legs were shaking after only a few dozen yards.
Another agonizing hour went by, Mercer carrying Selome northward along the cliff face. He was numbed to the pain, using the last scraps of energy left within him like a flame flaring brightest before it’s extinguished. The sun was a brutal weight that tried to pound him like a hammer against the anvil of the desert floor. He thought that Selome had slipped into unconsciousness once again, but suddenly she cried out, a choking caw like a startled bird. Mercer could see the tip of her hand aiming ahead of them. He couldn’t distinguish what she had spotted so, like a donkey following the carrot at the end of a stick, he dogged her slender finger. Glare had become a constant gauzy curtain, and it wasn’t until they were almost at the entrance to a cave that he saw its shadow emerge from the haze.
Selome slid from his back, falling. Mercer didn’t even notice. He was beyond the farthest point he had ever pushed himself. Like any mortally wounded animal, he wanted to find a sheltered place in which to die. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled blindly into the cool cave, stopping only when his head hit the stone wall. Selome entered moments later, collapsing next to Mercer’s facedown, immobile form.
He knew he would never rise again. His head pounded fiercely, and he felt it would split at just the slightest touch. He reached over to touch Selome’s arm. Her skin felt like a dried-out parchment. Every fiber of his body craved water, but the last remnants of his rational mind knew it would never come.
“This is where we die,” Mercer mumbled into the dusty floor of the cavern. “I’m sorry.”
Selome rolled Mercer so she could study his face. Under the days of beard, his skin was gray and cracked. His lips were so blistered that his mouth looked like an infected wound. She saw her own concern reflected in his eyes, for she looked just as bad.
“I’ll read to you to pass the time,” Selome offered, and Mercer shot her a queer look, suspecting that she had finally fallen away from reality.
Yet as he watched, she grabbed a leather-bound book from the cave floor, resting it on her lap, and cracked it open to a random page. She stared at it blankly for just a second. “Hey, this is Shakespeare. It’s in Italian, but I’ll translate it for you.”
“What else?” He was too wasted to feel emotion other than the desperation of the near dead.
“What?”
“What else is in the cave?” Was it possible? A hope flared dimly in his mind.
Selome looked around their mausoleum. “Oh, God! Food! Water!” He could hear her crying.
The air in the cave tasted sweeter when she unstoppered a flask. When she held it to her lips, Mercer watched clear water dribble down her chin, softening the dried scabs on her lips and bringing moisture to her seared tongue. The sensation closed her eyes in ecstatic pain.
Mercer was overwhelmed. Not because the water would save his life; that wasn’t his first thought. That Selome would be saved was much more important than his own well-being. He wanted to take credit for getting her through this, but it was her own guts that had carried them, her uncomplaining determination to continue. Trying to inspire her with his strength, she’d turned around and done the same to him. Even as he faded into oblivion, he saw her half fill her mouth with water and press her lips to his, forcing his mouth open to allow a little water to pass into him. She drank again herself and then gave Mercer another mouthful. A minute later, he was unconscious, but his breathing evened and sounded less labored, a tiny but noticeable smile on his face.
The Monastery of Debre Amlak
An unfamiliar sensation brought Mercer awake, and it took him a moment to recognize what it was.
