Page 98 of Tracing Holland

“Jesse?”I call into the darkness.“Jesse Everett?”

“Luke?”

This time I recognize the weak voice and turn my flashlight to the right.“Shit…” I mutter when I see him.He’s collapsed against a tree, barely conscious.

I step over the others and pull him to his feet, weaving my arm under his shoulders.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t…” His head rolls down, and I can tell he’s wrecked.From what, I have no idea.I check for obvious needle marks but don’t see any.

“Talk to me, man, or I’m taking you to a hospital.”

His head jerks up at that.“No, no, I’m ok,” he slurs.

“No, you’re definitely not, but you have the walk back to the cab to convince me to take you to the bus instead.”

He shakes his head.“No, I’m good.”

“What day is it?”

“Um…”

“Jesse, the day.”

“Saturday.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.“Ok.Well, technically Sunday at this point, but close enough.The date?”

He’s quiet again, then gives me a weak smile.“Not sure I would have gotten that one sober.”

I grin in spite of myself.“True.What did you take?”I ask, deciding to push my luck while he’s lucid.

He shakes his head again.“I don’t know.Not sure.Just ended up here.”

I curse.“Do you have your wallet?”

We stop so he can pat his jeans.“Shit, no.I don’t think so.”

I sigh.“Ok, we’ll deal with that when we get back.They left your phone, at least.Keep your mouth shut until we get back to the cab, ok?”

He nods, and I brace myself to re-enter the dreaded zombie “Flower Cave.”

“Hey, where you going?”my earlier assailant calls as we shuffle past.

“Home,” I return in a stern tone.

“Aw, why?It’s early.”

“He has to work tomorrow.Have a nice night,” I mutter.

“Jesse!Call me, babe!”she cries after us.

“Not likely,” I return.I give him a look.“You will not,” I warn.

He shrinks a bit, but doesn’t say a word until we reach the cab.

“Luke, I’m sorry,”he begins, breaking the uncomfortable silence after we get back on the highway.I’m so relieved he’s ok, and even sobering up, that my anger starts to forgive.