Page 27 of All Your Days (Mayhem Manuscripts Season One: 1nf3ction #4)

Chapter eleven

Jacob

We move fast and we move hard, pushing ourselves and our camels harder than we should with the heat bearing down on us, but I’m determined to put as much distance between us and the outpost as possible before the day's end.

Thankfully, the team agrees. They hauled outta there like they were merchies on the move their whole life. Just as thankfully, they are silent. No one wants to waste any energy talking, just one foot in front of the other, as fast as we can go.

Not that it matters for me. All my reserves are being wasted on the stress gnawing away at my guts. I’m so distracted I almost step on a fucking snake slithering across the track.

Only Eli’s hand on my arm stops me from making a deadly mistake.

Rather than thank him, though, I yank my arm out of his grip with a grunt and keep going, giving Zeppy an unnecessarily hard pull.

She grunts back at me, knocking my hat with her big nose.

I can’t be mad. I deserve it. So I give her an extra scratch in apology.

I don’t apologise to Eli, even though I know I should. For a lot of things.

I’m never right after leaving the outpost. My regular team is used to the way I withdraw a bit when we leave, needing at least the first day's walk to get myself right. It seems I’ve gotten too used to them and their understanding.

After my night with Eli and then the blow up with the fucking Blue Creek crew, everyone is looking at me like I’m about to blow my stack.

It’s really not helping my shitty mood.

The outpost takes it out of me. I feel like there are two Jacobs. The Jacob I could have been and the Jacob that I am.

The Jacob I could have been is the Jacob at the outpost. I know the people there, and I’m friendly enough to most of them—especially when Eli’s not with me and I don’t spend the whole time shit scared someone’s gonna come and snatch him up.

I talk to the old fellas there, listen to their stories—even share some of my own if the time’s right.

There are others there that’ve lived the merchie life.

Some of them’ve stopped because it’s too rough on their bodies to go travelling, or their routes have stopped being worth it.

Others just felt the call to settle down in one place.

Talking to them reminds me how it was, travelling with Mitch and Sarah. Not a single one knows how to tell a story without adding their own wild spin to the yarn—but that’s half the fun of it all.

Some of it is business—I need to have the right connections to get a decent deal on trades. No one does business at the outpost getting on their bad side. But most of it is for me.

But it’s a skin that doesn’t quite fit right. I’ve seen too fucking much in this shithole world for that Jacob to fit anymore. Sometimes I feel like that old Jacob would be ashamed of who I am now. Ashamed that I chose—and continue to choose—the security of The Facility.

This is all the shit leaving that place dredges up for me.

And then there’s Eli. Fucking Eli. I am the dumbest fuck on the planet for agreeing. Just one night . Fuck. I’ll never forget the feel of his touch. He calls me a ghost? What a fucking joke. He’ll haunt me forever. There’s nothing left for me now that I know.

It’ll be easier once we get back to our real lives at The Facility and we’re not in each other's face constantly. He can go back to his life and his friends, and his dates. And I can go back to watching him. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, not now that I know , but I’ll find a way. I don’t have any other choice.

He still insists on walking next to me, even though I know for a fact that his feet are torn to shreds with blisters.

He refuses to get on Adeeko. He hasn’t said a fucking word.

Hasn’t even called out the critters we’ve passed.

I tell myself I’m happy for the peace so I can focus on getting us safely to the first bore.

But I miss it. And really, it would have been helpful if he called out about the fucking snake before I almost stomped on the fucking thing.

Focusing on the road, a familiar tree and disturbance in the track to the east has me whistling for everyone to stop.

“Bore ahead.” I tell them, pointing at the barely noticeable second track forking off our current path. “What do we reckon about a detour?”

Cale's camel side steps under him and he leans down to scratch the beast's neck.

“What’ll it cost us?” He asks.

“‘Bout an extra night? The hills we saw are through there. The road isn’t as well travelled, but we can camp there no problem.”

“WillBlue Creek be able to find us there, though?” Eli asks quietly. There is a wobble in his voice that makes my gut ache. I want to pull him into my arms and promise him that everything’s going to be okay. But that’s not my place. I chose for it to not be my place.

“They won’t be through here. You don’t have anything to worry about with them.

” I try to reassure him the best I can, chancing a glance down at him.

The scarf once again wrapped around his face wobbles as he no doubt chews his lip.

His big brown eyes flick up to mine, but dart away again like a scared rabbit.

“How d’you know that, though?” Malcolm asks, being really fucking unhelpful. “I mean, they were pretty pissed at you.”

“Doesn’t matter how pissed they were at me.

” I sigh, lifting my hat to scratch at my scalp.

The old fur felt hat is handy but makes my head sweaty as shit.

“They were just pissed. They probably hadn’t even stopped drinking, so I don’t reckon they’ll even remember the tiff.

And honestly, Blue Creek can’t afford to hold a grudge every time they start a fight.

They might control the station and have a loose leash from the Union, but their boss is gonna get real angry if no one wants to do business with them because his crew has caused problems at the outpost. It’s not the first time they’ve kicked up shit and it won’t be the last.”

I make sure to look everyone in the eyes to get my point across. When they grumble in agreement I’m grateful. I’m too wrecked to hold their hand through the complicated social structure of the outpost and life outside The Facility.

“Right, good. Can we go now? Detour or straight home?”

I knew the detour was going to be a winner.

Lou’s words about this possibly being the only time they may get to see the world outside the compound were true.

Everyone jumped on the chance to see something other than scrub flat dirt.

The bore is only a short ways up the second track so we stop by it for a quick lunch and head straight on.

The landscape gets a little less flat the further down the track we go, and it slows down our pace. But that means by the time we reach the valley between the multicoloured hills the sun has sunk low enough to light our campsite up in a beautiful pinky-orange light.

Even Cale, Malcolm, and Ryan are interested enough to stop messing around as we unpack the trailer with our kit for the night. The sun is half behind our nearest hill, the shadows casting long across our camp.

“I don’t rightly much get along with the preacher man.” Lou’s voice breaks through our silent moment. “But I think this is what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

Watching Eli spin in slow circles, like he’s trying to paint the scene into his mind, the fantastic light making him seem like some spirit from another world, I definitely agree with Lou. But I keep my opinion to myself.

For a grunt, Eli hasn’t exactly been helpful in setting up the camp.

Kind of the opposite, really. Not that I mind one second of it.

Tonight he’s even less help, constantly distracted watching the colours of mineral deposit streaks in the white and red hill either side of us change with the sunset.

When he leaves us entirely to try to hand feed a gecko peeking out the spikey grass leftover jerky, Lou and I come to a silent agreement to let him go.

It’s quicker without him anyway, and when I set up the tents for the night, I can feel Eli’s eyes hot on my back. Sweat beads on my neck, both from the last of the heat slowly dying with the sunlight and from the indecision holding me up.

Do I keep him close and spend a sleepless night staring holes through the fabric of the tent? Or do I put him on the other side of the camp, far out of reach?

Who the fuck am I kidding? I hammer his tent pegs in place with more force than strictly necessary, keeping him between the water tank and my tent, with a good few extra paces between us and the others.

When we get back, then I’ll give him the space we both need.

Until then, keeping him safe is more important.

And right now my gut is telling me that this is where his tent goes.

I didn’t get this far by not listening to my gut.

So it’s my own damn fault when I get no sleep doing exactly what I thought I would, staring in the direction of his cot, trying to forget how it felt to have him in my arms while we slept.

Our second day on the road we’re woken by the sounds of birds screeching as the sun rises. None of us are happy as we crawl out of our tents. It only gets worse from there.

“ Mother fucker!” Ryan curses, kicking the wheel of the water wagon where he’s meant to be refilling the billy can so we can have our tea.

“What’s wrong?” Lou hobbles over, the frosty morning making him stiff.

“Fuckin’ thing is leakin’. Look!”

We all rush over to check where Ryan is aggressively pointing.

“How the fuck did you not notice? Fuckin’ useless! ” Ryan spits at Eli.

Sure enough, there is a slow but steady trickle coming from the side of the tank.

It clings to the barrel and down the leg all the way down to the now muddy stream that flows directly under Eli’s tent.

The barrel must’ve been pinged by a stone or something on our way into the valley, the crack getting worse during the night.