Free Freefall by Anna Levine

arriving, a sensation of calmness settles over me. All the tension of the day seems to drain into the land. It feels almost biblical. I imagine how Abraham must have felt out here.
    Holding a palm full of jelly beans, I pick out the black licorice ones and eat them first.
    A wind breezes by. I tuck strands of loose hair behind my ear. The ends prickle me. My skin bristles. Exhaustion is turning my body into an inverted cactus.
    According to my watch, only ten minutes have passed. I check to make sure it’s working.
    In the distance, a snore. Have to tell Hila about this. She’ll flip. Alone in the desert after a grueling day, no sleeping bag, no sleep. I hardly believe I’m still standing!
    The jackal howls again. No point in looking for it. The darkness is like an opaque veil allowing only bits of starlight to shine through.
    Stretch. On my toes. Heels. Yawn. An unfamiliar tune pops into my head. The American girl was humming it earlier. “An indie group,” she’d said.
    I do a few pliés and relevés. Roll my shoulders. Point my toes. Flex. Five minutes pass. All’s quiet. A few more snores and some murmurs from the tents. What now? Wonder what Noah thinks about when he’s standing guard. Haven’t told Shira about Noah, or even about what happened with Ben. Will she be annoyed, jealous?
    Twenty minutes left. First forty already gone.
    Had Ben made a move back in junior high, it would be different. But now there’s Noah. Noah …Just thinking of him is like having a sweet swig of hot cappuccino.
    Ten minutes to go.
    Need some sleep before tomorrow.
    Tomorrow. Will I make it through another day of sandbags and stretchers? Someone is bound to break soon. Which one of us will drop? Lily? No, she’s carrying a lot of extra weight, but she’s so determined, nothing will stop her.
    Sixty seconds left. Thirty-nine. Twenty-four. Twenty-three. Twelve. Eleven. Yes! Done! Did it!
    Almost skip back to the campsite. Just want to put my head down, close my eyes. Hug my bunny. Sleep the last few hours before they wake us.
    â€œNoga.” I jiggle her shoulder.
    No answer.
    There’s a sour smell about her.
    â€œNoga. Your turn. Get up.”
    She groans. “Can’t.”
    â€œCome on, Noga. I need to get some sleep.”
    I feel that same pinched expression that Lily wore when she bent over me.
    â€œCan’t move,” she says. “My stomach.”
    â€œGet up and you’ll get over it.”
    â€œBut my stomach hurts.” She moans. “It must have been that non-vegetarian food I ate.”
    â€œYou mean the meat.”
    She groans again. “Meat,” she cries. “I think I’m going to be sick. Canned meat. I think I’ve got food poisoning. Get someone else to take my spot.”
    â€œAre you out of your mind?”
    She groans and starts to rock.
    â€œYou’re no sicker than the rest of us. You’re tired. Now, get moving.”
    â€œAggie, please. I can’t.”
    What am I going to do? The shift after Noga’s is Sonya’s. I know she won’t start before three o’clock. And even if she does, we’ll still be missing someone for the last hour. Noga pulls the sleeping bag over her head.
    Glancing longingly at my makeshift bed, I trudge back to my post.
    Just do it, I tell myself. Noga would have done the same for me, were the situation reversed. After tomorrow I’ll sleep for a solid week.
    Stretch. Jiggle my limbs loose. Sing a few bars of the Shlomo Artzi song Shira loves, about waiting for the Messiah, who’s taking his time in coming. I stop in the middle as a sound disrupts the silence.
    Footsteps.
    They crunch. Boots moving in my direction. My breath catches in my throat. Every nerve tenses. I wait as a figure takes shape through the darkness.
    â€œPrivate.”
    â€œKen, HaMifaked!” I answer, snapping to attention.
    I “Identify yourself.”
    â€œAbigail. I mean,