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For once, Sam was glad for night to fall. Darkness swept over the landscape, the air nipped at his ears and the tip of his nose, and blurred out stars twinkled past the dome. Ever since the blackening of the barrier, he had found comfort in the shadows. They were much safer than a lone light, shining bright for any predator to be drawn to.
Not only was he grateful for the free protection, but it meant that trekking the rough mountainous landscape was becoming too dangerous for Caine and him to carry on. His legs were aching, and his backpack and automatic rifle were getting too heavy to carry.
Sam stopped at a dip in the hill, a place that would’ve been good at protecting someone from a harsh wind, but of course, windy days here in the FAYZ were long in the past. His backpack slipped off his shoulders and he threw it to the ground, slumping down beside it.
Caine didn’t realise at first that Sam had sat down, stumbling ahead a couple paces until the lack of his brother’s laboured breathing and heavy footsteps behind him became apparent. Retreating back to the dip, he too discarded the things he was carrying, except his hunting knife. Just in case. Though really, he could’ve had no weapons at his disposal and still be able to win a fight. Perks of being a mutant.
He eyed Sam, who was now chugging down water from his bottle. “Thank goodness there’s a water fountain down the bottom of this mountain. You know. Since you’ve drunk all of your water already.”
Sam put the bottle back into his bag, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I still have half of the other bottle left!”
“Hmph. Don’t expect me to give you any of mine tomorrow when you’re dying of thirst,” Caine retorted, laying down with his own backpack beneath his head, tucking his blanket around him. He shut his eyes then, as if saying to Sam: Do Not Disturb.
Having quenched his thirst, Sam focused on the next task at hand, and that was supper. There wasn’t much packed that was edible aside from dried fish and what he hoped wasn’t a zip-lock bag of cabbage leaves. He’d eaten enough cabbage to last him a lifetime. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he went a day without eating something fishy.
It was a zip-lock bag of cabbage.
Knowing the dried fish was better than nothing, he dug into his meagre meal. Before long, Caine sniffed and opened his eyes again to glare at him.
“That reeks.” His face wrinkled up and he covered his nose with the blanket.
Sam sighed. God forbid he did anything around Caine. “What else do you want me to do? Starve?”
“Preferably, yes.”
A jab of pain stung his side. Caine’s telekinesis.
“That’s it!” Sam declared, jumping up and throwing out an arm, fingers splayed. (The other hand holding his piece of fish protectively against his chest).
Caine sat up, bracing himself, but he didn’t have time to hold up his own hands before Sam released a blast of light.
—And made a Sammy sun near the ground only around two feet in front of Caine.
“Ah. Much better. Now I can see my supper properly,” Sam said contentedly, settling down again. His twin brother still looked stiff, staring at the Sammy sun and then at Sam himself and then back at the Sammy sun.
“You’re a bastard.” He snarled, flopping down onto his side and turning his back to Sam.
There was a peaceful silence that settled over them, broken only by the yip of a coyote in the distance, but that didn’t worry Sam—or rather, “Light-Hands” to them. The coyotes no longer had a coordinated pack as far as he knew, and they hadn’t stirred up trouble in a while.
He finished eating and took his blanket out, using his backpack as a pillow. The night was only growing colder, but his blanket was thin and not very comfortable. It was the kind that itches and rubs against your skin.
A muffled giggle. Sam thought at first he had imagined it before Caine looked over his shoulder back at him.
“Who the hell does that?” The expression he wore was a mix of amusement and confusion, his eyebrows frowning but his mouth smiling. He turned onto his back. “I thought: This is it. Surfer Dude finally snaps. But you make one of those—” Caine gestured vaguely at the Sammy sun. “...things. You’re crazy. Or I’m crazy for finding Sam Temple, of all people funny.”
Caine looked strangely young when he was smiling. Less haunted. It almost made Sam want to grin back until Caine followed up with:
“It doesn’t mean I’m your pal now, though. I would still fling you from here to Lake Tramonto given the chance.”
“Good to know.” Sam responded drily, his half-formed smile wiped away immediately.
Again, they fell into silence, a bit more awkwardly this time. Things usually are that way after someone threatens to kill you.
“We should go up to the base tomorrow.” Caine phrased it like it was a suggestion, but Sam knew it wasn’t. He was half tempted to tell him that they should search somewhere else just to piss him off. But Caine would most likely follow up on his threat then, and while Sam was itching for a fight, Edilio didn’t send the two off to kill each other—not without killing Gaia first, at least.
Sam opted for a non-committal hmmm. It would’ve appealed to him more if there was still nutella there. Chocolate had never tasted better than that day when Toto had led Dekka, Jack and him to the cratefuls upon cratefuls of it. The train it came from was probably licked clean by now, its contents taken to be traded with the kids down at Perdido Beach.
Wherever they went the next day, Sam didn’t care all that much. He was sleepy enough for his mind to not fixate on little worries like what if he really did run out of water and how boring it was going to be having to walk another couple miles with Caine taunting him. And the big worries too—how the world outside would treat him once the barrier went down (he was sure it would be any day now), and if he would go to jail for all the crimes he’d committed.
For once, Sam was glad for night to fall. For once, Sam slept easy.