Billie
Waves of heat shimmered off the desert sand as they rode. They'd been at it for almost three hours, and the sun's rays were still unforgiving as it baked the sand and their bodies.
Billie patted her pinto's hot hide and it neighed unhappily. Foam was beginning to gather at the corners of its mouth, and its steps were becoming more tired and plodding. It would need food and water soon or else it would collapse. Clyde's horse would, too.
Before they'd left The Whippoorwill, they'd taken the two bottles of water from the mini-fridge so they could try to stay hydrated during their journey. But even though the water turned warm fast and Billie tried to restrain herself from taking anything but tiny sips from it, her supply still ran out quickly, and now she was left without a drop. Worse, she could feel the sun burning her exposed face and arms, and the top of her head felt like it was on fire.
She was getting dizzy and sick to her stomach, and as the world around her started to become a miasma of wavy lines, she realized she could no longer tell if it was a heat mirage or if her own vision was becoming blurred from dehydration.
Why had she been so insistent on parking in front of the bank and witnessing a crime that morning? Why had she been dumb enough to lean out of the car and yell out to the robbers? Why had she insisted on treating this whole thing like some kind of amusement park ride instead of taking it seriously and staying out of harm's way like most sane people would?
Most of all, why had she believed it was a clever idea for them to ride across this hellish stretch of nowhere? And on horseback, no less?
If only she'd spent her day off at home, she could be inside with the air conditioner cranked as high as it would go. She could be drinking cold beers and dozing off on her couch while watching the harmless cops and robbers on TV, instead of being threatened by real ones and risking a lonely and agonizing death in this parched wasteland.
She thought about all of the times she'd foolishly believed that there could be no worse fate than spending a long, boring, miserable life in a town like Cactus Hollow. But oh, how wrong she'd been.
Her pinto suddenly brayed with fright and reared up, and Billie saw that a rattlesnake had crossed its path. The rattler bared its fangs briefly, then continued on its way. But even as it slithered out of sight, the sound of its rattle still filled Billie's ears until it seemed to press against the backs of her eyeballs. She felt a nauseating lurch as she saw the ground spinning up to meet her.
Before she could fall over, a firm hand clamped on her shoulder, steadying her. Clyde was next to her on his own horse, his eyes filled with concern.
“You okay?” he asked. His cheeks and forehead were bright red, and his lips were cracked. His long hair was plastered to his sweaty neck and temples.
Billie nodded and tried to lick her lips to respond, but her tongue was like sandpaper. All she could do was let out a croak.
“Here,” Clyde said, extending his own water bottle. There were still a few drops swishing around at the bottom. “Drink the rest of this.”
Billie took the bottle gratefully, its clear plastic burning her fingers as she gulped down the last of its contents. It felt like it had been warmed on a stove top, but at least its moisture broke through the web of sticky dryness that filled her mouth and throat.
“Thank you,” she managed, coughing and tossing the bottle to the ground.
“Take this,” Clyde said, shrugging off his leather vest and handing it to her. “Drape it over the top of your head. It should give you a little shade and ward off heatstroke for a while longer.”
She placed it on her head carefully. The leather was hot and the manly musk of his sweat clung to it, but it kept the sunlight from beating down on her brain like a drum.
“How close are we to the woods?” Clyde asked.
“Couple…more…miles,” Billie wheezed.
“Do you think you'll be able to make it?”
She tried to laugh, but all that came out was a gagging sound. “Fuck you care? No more hostage, no more problem, right? Save you guys th' trouble've killing me.”
“No one's going to kill you,” Clyde said. “I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You just need to hold on for me a little longer, though, okay?”
At first, Billie thought he was just telling her what she wanted to hear so she'd pull herself together and get them to the shack faster. But when she looked into his eyes, she could see that he meant it. There was real kindness and compassion in them which she'd never seen there before.
“Just...tell me y'r real name, okay?” Billie asked. “Just so I can...put in a good word for you...up there. Heh...seems like you might end up...needin' it...”
He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Carter. My name's Carter.”
“Carter,” she repeated through dry, cracked lips. “Wow. Shitty name. Should've...stuck with Clyde.”
“Just stay strong and hang in there a few more minutes, and you can call me whatever you want,” Carter said.
He really is a sweetie after all, she thought as whole galaxies of stars twinkled and popped in her peripheral vision. That's nice. Who would've thought? Big bad biker, caring about little old me. That's nice. Doesn't matter, since we're going to die out here with the snakes and the scorpions. Still, that's nice. That's...
Reality was pulled out from under her then, but instead of falling down on the hard sand, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her and pull her up, up, until everything went white and she was sure she was being carried by an angel up to heaven. A voice was calling her name.
How lovely, she thought. Someone up here must be expecting me.