Free White Hot: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense by Kate Fargo

She’d have to wake him up. She peered up the hill. The water bottle was still attached to the gas tank, but it was split open, a telling dark spot in the ground beneath it. That left the smaller bottles they’d filled during their last stop. They’d been tucked in with the groceries.
    Studying the ground above and below, she searched for the two small bottles. She spied a tin of tuna, a packet of tortillas, a bag of chips split open with the chips scattered over the rocks. The dog was chowing down on the packet of ham, wax paper and all.
    “Come on,” she cried, “give me at least one. Just fucking one.” The dog glanced in her direction, snarled and pushed his prize to the far side of his body. Then her gaze landed on a bottle of water peeking out from beneath the dog’s hind leg.

18
    E mily inched forward speaking to the dog in a low voice. He bared his teeth and growled. As she closed in he rose, hair standing straight up along his spine. His ribs showed clearly through his coat, his eyes a smoky blue.
    Beside the tin of tuna she’d seen earlier lay the packet of cheese. Retrieving it, she unwrapped it, tore a piece off and threw it toward the dog. He sniffed at it, then bit into it. “Good doggie,” she purred, throwing another piece a few inches away. The dog took the bait, moving toward the cheese. She threw another. Once she was satisfied he would keep going, she threw the whole ball of cheese a few feet in front of the dog. When he lunged for the cheese, she raced forward and grabbed the water.
    She removed the t-shirt covering Dal’s face, poured barely a capful of water into the material and patted his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth with the moist cloth. “Dal, wake up.” She slapped his face, softly at first, then harder. Her tears dripped onto his forehead. Reaching her arm back as far as her aching shoulder would allow, she brought her palm against his cheek with all the strength she could muster.
    “What the hell,” Dal spurted, coughing.
    “Wake up,” she said, holding her hand against his face.
    “I think I’m awake,” he growled, turning his head to the side. He coughed violently and spit out pebbles. “What the hell,” he repeated.
    “We had an accident,” she explained, staring into his eyes, trying to get him to focus.
    “Where are we? Hell?”
    “What? No, we slid down the cliff,” she said, wiping dust off his face.
    “It’s hot enough to be hell,” he grunted.
    “It is that. We need to get you out of the sun. Can you stand?”
    He pushed himself up, Emily holding his back in place when he wobbled. “I feel weak,” he said.
    “You might have sun stroke,” she said. She pointed past the bike, past the boulder, to the shade. “Do you think you can make it there?”
    “Shade,” he said. She helped him up, braced her shoulder so he could lean against her, and grit her teeth to bear his weight, ignoring the ripping pain in her thigh as they hobbled toward the shade.
    He caught his foot on the bike, tripped, and almost took her down. She braced herself against the back wheel and at the last second, he steadied himself. “Almost there,” she said, coaxing him on. “It’s cool in the shade, I promise. A few more steps.”
    Stumbling as they rounded the boulder, Dal fell to the ground. His body slumped against the side of the hill. His eyes closed. A few seconds later he opened them and focused on her as if he was seeing her for the very first time. Then his lids fluttered and he was gone again.
    Emily lowered herself to the ground beside him. She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream to the gods and all that was holy. Tick tock, said the voice in her head. Tick tock. She would rest, just a few minutes, and then gather what she could of their supplies before the dog ate everything.

19
    D al was awake but his ass was asleep. He shifted against the hard ground, searching for explanation. Beside him, Em dozed, emitting soft little purrs. Her face was the color of a fire