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Chapter Four "Um... John?" "Mmm!" John furrowed his eyebrows and rolled away from the voice. "John, where the hell did that come from?" John cuddled his worn, tawny stuffed bear. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw Anthony staring at him from where he sat in a sleeping bag. John sat up. Shocks of his dark hair lay in tangled masses on his shoulders. The right side of his face sported creases. "Mmm?" he squinted at Anthony, still clutching his bear. He wobbled where he sat. "You know what? Never mind," Anthony held up his hands. "Mmm," John replied as he sank back into his sleeping bag. He buried his chin into the back of the stuffed bear's head and heaved a sigh. Anthony yawned. He clutched his sleeping bag closer to himself... No, not his. Flea's. He now recalled awakening in the middle of the night to Flea's bundling Anthony in his own sleeping bag. "Flea?" he glanced over John, spotting a forest green sleeping bag. "Chad?" "Muffy," John murmured, his eyes still shut. A smile spread across his face, and he kissed his teddy bear. Anthony rolled onto his right knee. Dragging his injured foot, he managed to crawl one-legged to John's side. He hovered over his sleeping friend. "John?" "Mmm!" John's eyebrows furrowed, and he rolled over, still clinging to his teddy. "John!' Anthony nudged John's shoulder gently. A hand reached out and smacked the inside of Anthony's elbows. The arms supporting him gave way, and he toppled into John. "Damn it!" He exclaimed as his injured foot dashed against the ground. John's eyelids fluttered open. Dark eyes squinted over the stuffed bear's head, gazing at the man lying on his chest. Anthony rolled off his friend and lay on his back on the ground. John scratched his head and yawned. "What's going on?" Glancing into Anthony's watery eyes, he sat up straight and exclaimed, "Sh**! What happened?" "Never mind," Anthony's voice was strained. He blinked a few times before sitting up. "Have you seen Chad and Flea?" John shook his head. His sight wandered to his lap. His eyes widened, and he stuffed the teddy bear back into his frame pack. "No, I haven't seen them," he replied, closing the bag's top flap. "Where the hell do you think they could have gone?" John shrugged. Sleep lingered in his eyes. He rubbed the knuckles of his index fingers into them. And yawned. Drawing his hand to his lap, John's vision rested upon Anthony's ankle. "Holy sh**!" "What?" Anthony glanced at his feet. His left ankle was three times larger than his right. Red, purple, and black hues covered the top of his left foot; most likely, more bruises hid beneath the Ace. "Well those are pretty colours." He cracked a smile. "Chad was wrong then," John voiced, his eyes wide. Anthony shook his head. "What? You think it's broken? It's just bruised. That's all." "There's a f***ing bone sticking out!" Planting a hand into the dust to his left, Anthony leaned to that side. Sure enough, a distinct bump shot out by his ankle bone. "Aw, f***!" he hissed through his teeth and sighed. "Should we unwrap it?" Wincing, John replied, "I don't think that's a good idea. Why don't we wait for Chad to get back. Wonder where the hell they went off to." John was still staring at Anthony's ankle. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "Got any water?" John smiled. "I have some left over from yesterday. Hold on." John opened his bag and rummaged around inside. His hand kept running along cloth. Minutes passed. "Motherf***er!" John exclaimed, tossing a T-shirt from the bag. He threw out his stuffed bear, another T-shirt, a pair of shorts, flashlight, a third T-shirt. "Where the hell is it?" A mess kit clattered to the ground, a compass on top of it, journal, sketch pad, bag of trail mix. John sat back in his sleeping bag and ran his arm across his forehead. "I... I don't get it," he panted, shaking his head. "I packed the f***ing thing! I didn't leave it anywhere!" John sighed. Glancing around the clearing, John got to his feet. His sleeping bag slipped off his body and crumpled to the ground. "Maybe Chad or Flea left their water bottles!" John slid to his knees in front of Flea's frame pack. Soon the contents of all three bags cluttered the clearing, and the two men sat in the middle of the chaos. John buried his head in his hands. "We have no f***ing water," he spoke, "and no f***ing idea where Chad and Flea are." Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. |