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“This heat has to be making things harder,” Tressler said, trying in vain to waft air towards himself. He couldn’t get the air to move fast enough to do any real good. He just pushed stale hot air into his face. After the fifth try, he groaned loudly in frustration.
Next to him Pearson took off his glasses and wiped at the bridge of his nose. “I’m sweating so much my glasses keep sliding down.”
Tressler took off the shirt he’d been wearing over his overalls. “Stay still, I want to try something.”
Pearson cocked his head to the side in confusion.
“I mean.” Tressler chuckled. “Walk steady.”
Pearson suddenly started taking steps like he forgot how to walk for a moment, his eyebrows knit together, but then he relaxed and kept a steady pace.
Tressler took his shirt and flapped it in Pearson’s direction, first up and then down in one big sweeping motion.
“Oh my gosh,” Pearson said in clear awe. “That felt amazing!”
Tressler used his shirt to push another gust of air at Pearson and then held it out to him. “My turn.”
Pearson grinned and plucked the shirt from Tressler’s outstretched hands. He took two tries to get the shirt to actually catch the air, he moved it too quickly at first. But then Tressler felt a glorious momentary breeze on his face.
It felt so good on his hot skin he almost stopped walking, like if he stayed in one spot he could stand in the breeze. But then it stopped and he remembered it was just a momentary respite. Pearson flapped the shirt at him again, and Tressler sighed contentedly.
“I think that just shored me up for another fifty miles.” Tressler said, taking the shirt back from Tressler.
“Me too,” Pearson agreed.