LJ Idol Week 4: “Nobody can ride your back if your back's not bent”
Part of the Astro-Twins 'verse, but can be read as a stand alone.
---
Mike looked across the swamp and then back at Kim. She tried to smile at him, but it was more of a grimace.
“We should rest here,” he said, sitting down next to her.
She knew it was an attempt to stall, to delay the inevitable. Her ankle was swollen, as much as it could in her high-top converse. She’d taken pain killers but they did little to dull the pain. There was no way she was going to make it across swamp on her own two feet.
But they were both exhausted. One wrong step across this swamp and they could end up in deep water, and if she couldn't walk, it was unlikely she could swim.
“Stop worrying,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“How are you so calm?” she retorted.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said, “we always do.”
“This time it might not work out till the end,” she replied.
“Stop worrying,” he said again, and smiled again, “remember what mum used to say?”
“She used to say so many things,” she said, rolling her eyes, trying to play it off. Thinking of their old life still hurt, the scars of losing everything still fresh.
“No matter what,” he said, “we will always be there for each other.”
“That’s why you should-”
“I’m going to carry you.”
“Yeah, no,” she said, “you will barely make it across alone.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, blowing her off, “I’m fine.”
“This is me being there for you,” she said, “leave me behind, you can make it.”
“I’m not gonna leave you,” he said, his voice going quiet in his anger, “there’s no way.”
“We won’t make it together,” she insisted, “I can’t walk on my own any more, I’ll only slow you down.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
“If we fall we’ll both drown,” she said, “it’s okay, I’ll stay here, I have my knife, and my pickaxe, I won’t be completely defenceless.”
“Until there’s a mob of them,” he said, “or some feral animal comes for you, or you might even make it till your food runs out.”
“I’m giving my food to you.”
“Stop,” he said, “Just stop, it’s not an option, and it’s not your choice to make.”
“It’s my life-”
“It’s mine too,” he said, “I won’t make it without you.”
“You-” she started.
“End of discussion,” he said, effectively cutting her off. He stood up and dusted himself off, as much as possible when the air itself tasted of ash and dirt.
He helped her up, switched his backpack to his front and bent his knees. “Get on.”
“We are going to die,” she said, in the most emotionless voice she could manage, balanced on one foot and assessing his bent back.
“Everybody dies eventually,” he said, “now get on and let’s get moving, maybe we can make it across before dark.”
She held onto his shoulders and hoisted herself up with his help, and then held on.
“Tell me if you get tired,” she said, “we could take breaks.”
“Maybe if I can breathe,” he choked out.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, loosening her grip from around his neck.
He started walking, taking slow, careful steps. The mud sucked at his feet, but his pace was steady. Maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it.
---
Mike looked across the swamp and then back at Kim. She tried to smile at him, but it was more of a grimace.
“We should rest here,” he said, sitting down next to her.
She knew it was an attempt to stall, to delay the inevitable. Her ankle was swollen, as much as it could in her high-top converse. She’d taken pain killers but they did little to dull the pain. There was no way she was going to make it across swamp on her own two feet.
But they were both exhausted. One wrong step across this swamp and they could end up in deep water, and if she couldn't walk, it was unlikely she could swim.
“Stop worrying,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“How are you so calm?” she retorted.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said, “we always do.”
“This time it might not work out till the end,” she replied.
“Stop worrying,” he said again, and smiled again, “remember what mum used to say?”
“She used to say so many things,” she said, rolling her eyes, trying to play it off. Thinking of their old life still hurt, the scars of losing everything still fresh.
“No matter what,” he said, “we will always be there for each other.”
“That’s why you should-”
“I’m going to carry you.”
“Yeah, no,” she said, “you will barely make it across alone.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said, blowing her off, “I’m fine.”
“This is me being there for you,” she said, “leave me behind, you can make it.”
“I’m not gonna leave you,” he said, his voice going quiet in his anger, “there’s no way.”
“We won’t make it together,” she insisted, “I can’t walk on my own any more, I’ll only slow you down.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
“If we fall we’ll both drown,” she said, “it’s okay, I’ll stay here, I have my knife, and my pickaxe, I won’t be completely defenceless.”
“Until there’s a mob of them,” he said, “or some feral animal comes for you, or you might even make it till your food runs out.”
“I’m giving my food to you.”
“Stop,” he said, “Just stop, it’s not an option, and it’s not your choice to make.”
“It’s my life-”
“It’s mine too,” he said, “I won’t make it without you.”
“You-” she started.
“End of discussion,” he said, effectively cutting her off. He stood up and dusted himself off, as much as possible when the air itself tasted of ash and dirt.
He helped her up, switched his backpack to his front and bent his knees. “Get on.”
“We are going to die,” she said, in the most emotionless voice she could manage, balanced on one foot and assessing his bent back.
“Everybody dies eventually,” he said, “now get on and let’s get moving, maybe we can make it across before dark.”
She held onto his shoulders and hoisted herself up with his help, and then held on.
“Tell me if you get tired,” she said, “we could take breaks.”
“Maybe if I can breathe,” he choked out.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, loosening her grip from around his neck.
He started walking, taking slow, careful steps. The mud sucked at his feet, but his pace was steady. Maybe, just maybe, they were going to make it.