Free Apophis by Eliza Lentzski Page A

stare as chilled as the late night wind.  “You’re done with the fire.”
    She made a disgruntled noise.  “God, why are you such a child?”  She grabbed her discarded blanket and stormed off in the direction of her tent. Almost immediately the tiny purr of her air pump’s motor sputtered to life.  The noise droned on for a few minutes, but I noticed that as time passed, the sound – close to that of a hair dryer – became weaker.  Finally, it stopped entirely.
    “No. No, no, no,” came Nora’s panicked voice from inside her tent.
    I heard the sound of items smashing together and I could almost picture her hitting the mechanized air pump against the ground, trying to resuscitate it.  The zipper on her tent’s front flap was unceremoniously yanked open and she re-appeared.  The annoyance was written all over her face, but when she caught me staring at her, she seemed to put on an unaffected mask as if she didn’t want me to know she was upset.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I knew what had happened.
    “The batteries in my air compressor died.”
    I choked back my laughter.  The way her mouth was drawn back in a thin line indicated she didn’t find this as funny as I did.
    “I don’t suppose you have a 9-volt battery handy,” she said, straight-faced.
    I shook my head.  “Sorry, no.”
    Her face remained stoical.  “Thanks anyway.”
    “The ground’s not so bad,” I said unhelpfully.  “Or, at least you get used to it.”
    “I’ll figure something else out,” she said stiffly.  I didn’t see her for the rest of the night.
    I stayed outside of my tent for a little longer, watching the fire finally sizzle out.  Nora’s pronouncement that her mother had been killed by bandits had not fallen on deaf ears.  I knew this wouldn’t be the end of our conversation about our mutual loss, and I dreaded it.  I’d finally said the words out loud.  My mother had been killed.  My mother was dead.  And now I would have to live with that realization.  I sat in the darkness until my face started to go numb.
     
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    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    The next morning came too early.  I could hear voices, men’s voices, coming from outside of my tent.  Next to me my grandmother snored soundly, so I wiggled out of my sleeping bag as unobtrusively as possible so she can continue to sleep.  Outside of the shelter of the tent the sun was bright, blinding really, as it bounced off the snow that constantly surrounded us. I really needed to find some sunglasses.  My father and Mr. West were already up and there was a fire lit in the place where I’d prematurely snuffed the previous night’s campfire. 
    The memory of my immaturity nagged at me.  I didn’t know what it was about Nora West that brought out the worst in me.  She was attractive and that made me uncomfortable, and she was awfully inept at survival-type skills, but there was no reason for me to be so rude.  I mentally promised myself to make an effort to be more mature in the future.  We were going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks.
    By the time Nora dragged herself out of her tent, the fire was fully formed and I was melting snow for drinking water.  Our fathers had left me in charge while they checked the traps my dad had set out the previous night.  Frozen water was all around us, but it was nice to be able to start the morning with a full liquid glass of water to fill your hollow belly.  It also helped us to not ravenously devour the rest of our food rations.
    “Morning,” I greeted her, mindful of the silent promise I’d made to myself to be nicer.  “How’d you sleep?” I already knew the answer by the look of her eyes.  Dark circles were visible under her vibrant aquamarine irises.
    “Like crap,” she complained.  She pulled her ski cap on over sleep-tussled locks.  “Is there anymore coffee?  I’m going to need a