Page 10 of All Your Days (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #4)

The camel turns its big head towards us. Embarrassingly, I jump when faced with the creature's big, black eyes, nearly ending up in Jacob’s arms when the beast keeps getting closer. Why is it sniffing my chest? Am I meant to pat it?

With a soft laugh, Jacob does just that, reaching out to pat the camel’s wooly neck. My jealousy is almost enough to outweigh my fear.

“You don’t have anythin’ to worry about with this fella. His name’s Adeeko. His sister Zeppy’s comin’ with us, too, but this old boy’s got a reputation for bein’ the sweetest guy we have.” Lou reassures me.

I was too wrapped up in Jacob being so close I didn’t notice that Lou had jumped off his ride to make his way over to us. The older grunt smiles affectionately and gives the camel a pat too, when he’s close enough.

So it’s a yes on the patting then. Good to know. I don’t think I’m ready to join them just yet, though.

“Uh, thanks. I think.” My throat feels tight. I can feel the heat of Jacob through the thick woollen coat—which I’ll have to shed soon enough. I want to look at him again, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.

I’m blaming my reactions on my world being thrown upside down. Once I get my bearings, I can go back to pretending he’s a ghost haunting me, and not a very real, incredibly hot man who is forever lurking just out of touching distance.

“Let ‘im sniff your hand. Then I’ll show you how to get on.” Jacob’s voice sounds rough, and so fucking close to my ear. I can’t hold back the shudder that runs through my spine. “Lou, why don’t you make sure the trailer’s attached properly? I’ll help Eli.”

Lou wanders off at Jacob’s suggestion. I immediately want to call him back. I don’t know if I’m going to survive Jacob’s ‘help’. A faint buzz rings in my ears when Jacob’s hand settles on the small of my back, urging me closer to Adeeko.

“Right, to climb on, just throw your leg over the saddle.” Jacob drops his hand from my back so fast, it’s like I imagined it.

He checks the straps of the saddle and then pats it with two hard slaps, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me for the first time in a decade.

“When he’s gettin’ up, you need to hold on to the front and back, but just go with the flow of it. ”

If it were anyone but him, I’d make a joke about knowing how to ride. But this time, I hold it in tight, clenching my jaw so hard I can feel my teeth grind together.

“You’ll think you have to ride astride, but it’ll be easier if you cross your legs around the front here.” Jacob carries on, patting the front handle.

“Got it.” I choke out, approaching the saddle.

Jacob’s is unsettlingly close, at the ready to steady me when I throw my leg over the saddle and get myself sorted.

He clips my emergency bag where it’s meant to go and then he makes a clicking sound that has the earth moving.

And not in a fun way. Even with my white knuckled grip on the saddle handles, my stomach turns when Adeeko stands.

Jacob keeps a steadying hand on my calf, his thumb stroking me ever so slightly.

My mind goes blank when I register the small, comforting gesture and I nearly tip sideways off the damned beast.

“You ‘kay?” Jacob asks, his hat casting a shadow that doesn’t quite hide the concern in his deep brown eyes.

“Nah, yeah.” My voice breaks like I’m going through puberty all over again. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

He releases my leg, and my sense returns enough to be thoroughly embarrassed.

Rather than watch Jacob, I chance a glance around the courtyard to see if anyone else noticed.

The guards are too busy with themselves to have noticed—which isn’t reassuring considering they are meant to be on watch for everything—but Lou definitely did.

He throws a wink at me and flicks his reins to get his camel moving.

I don’t have time to be dramatic about it. Jacob makes another clicking sound with his tongue, picking up Adeeko’s lead and we’re off, the small camel train pulling behind me with the guards and Lou riding free around us.

It’s a thrilling feeling when we make our way past the final walls of the compound and out of the greater area of The Facility—I’ve never been further than the fences that mark our boundaries for foraging.

Leaving The Facility is something I never thought I’d do.

It’s as exciting as it is terrifying and the continuous, unchanging landscape outside our borders is reassuring.

It’s the same stony red dirt, the same saltbush scrub and same pristine blue sky decorated with puffs of towering white clouds.

And Jacob. Jacob’s reassuring, too. He doesn’t look at me, not even once, but I don’t think for a second that he’s unaware of me. I don’t know why it’s reassuring, but it is.

Lou travels close by, ready and eager to help wherever he’s needed. And the guards? They are riding ‘point’. I don’t think that usually means racing their camels alongside the track and singing at the top of their lungs. But that’s what they’re doing—much to Jacob’s increasing frustration.

My rolling emotional journey, to accompany our physical one, is not over, apparently. By the time we stop, I’m ready to cry. My arse hurts like I’ve never felt before, like I’ve never known it could, and my thighs shake uncontrollably when my feet hit solid ground.

How the fuck am I meant to survive the entire journey?

I wince and wobble all the way to where Lou is already confidently unloading the things we need for our lunch, while Jacob checks over the camels.

The heat and the aching in the lower half of my body makes me unreasonably upset over everything, convincing myself that Jacob is ignoring me rather than just doing his job.

Over the years I’ve always told myself that I resent his attention, but I’ve also always known that I was lying to myself.

The lie just made the situation easier to deal with.

Moby would tell me to think logically about this.

To act like a scientist, and perhaps question why, out of everyone in my life, the idea of losing Jacob’s attention is so upsetting.

I’m not a scientist, though. I’m an artist. And more importantly, I’m a grunt. So I scrub at my cheeks and roll my shoulders, making my way to Lou as fast as my legs will let me.

“What can I do to help?” I ask. It’s a mistake, because Lou has no hesitation putting me to work.

Granted, he gives me the easier job. The recent winter rains have revived the sparse growth of the desert.

I’m sent to forage up what I can find to stretch out our lunch.

As much as it hurts, the walk does me good, and I manage to come back with enough quandong berries and bush tomatoes to help extend the bread, dried fruit, and salted meat that make up our lunch.

Found a couple of lizards and geckos hiding around the place, too.

They were less helpful for lunch, though. Scared the shit out of me, too.

Despite getting spooked, the walk does wonders for my head, clearing out the chaos brought on by the emotional past few hours.

I don’t travel far from the others, only just far enough to truly appreciate the limitlessness of the harsh, unrelenting, beautiful landscape.

I’ve only ever seen glimpses of it from the confines of home.

Beyond the road we follow, the land undulates softly, then rises sharply in blocky hills—I think I can even see the glimpses of what could be a creek cutting through the white-streaked red desert.

Though it could very well just be a mirage. The heat’ll do that.

Between collecting the fruit, I collect some flowers, too, sliding them carefully between the pages of the notebook I packed. There are several purple flowers that look kind of familiar, a pink bell and the funniest little flower that looks like an egg.

The guard, Cale, snickers when he catches me pressing them between the paper, but I get my own back when I serve their food.

“Gracie was on kitchen duty.” I smile sweetly and drop the burnt bread bun, hard as a rock, into his lap. His disappointment is palpable.

By the time I have to climb back on Adeeko, I don’t feel so fragile about the journey ahead of us.

The prospects of it all almost feel exciting.

I don’t even mind when Sheba—the camel tied behind me pulling the trailer—pops up next to me, wiping the spittle on her mouth over my shirt in a big, foaming streak.

And absolutely none of my renewed good mood has anything to do with Jacob, now riding close by, and the sway of his body in the saddle. Or the tentative smile he sends my way when I laugh a little too loud at my new, disgusting camel friend.

It must just be heat exhaustion.