We walk. The land here is flat, with dirt and scraggly cactus and bushes in either direction. The sun sears the top of my head and heat rolls in waves off the pavement’s black surface. This must be what it’s like inside a furnace. Even with several water breaks in the shade of some tall cactus, I’m dying. My leather jacket traps so much heat I’m sure to pass out. My breasts are still bound and my long-sleeved cotton shirt would mostly cover me to passersby. Yet, anyone up close might get suspicious. I glance at Clay and then, finally, shrug off Arn’s jacket. It’s too bulky to fit in our bulging packs. I smell the collar once for his scent. An image of him standing at the kitchen window, his hands in the pockets of his overalls floods me until I’m nearly choking with it. Arn. I fold his jacket and set it on a rock. When I leave it, I feel like I’m burying him all over again.

Clay and Ethan wait for me to catch up. Clay gives me a nod. “I know your pa’s jacket meant a lot to ya, but it’ll kill ya out here.”

I glance back at it once more. It’s just a brown lump in the distance now. I could run, pick it up, carry it until I collapse. “I shouldn’t just leave it,” I say more to myself than to Clay.

Clay looks back. “I’ll snag it when I come back for the Jeep.”

The grumpiness from the past dissolves. I offer him a look of gratitude. Good, solid Clay. I’d hug him if I weren’t worried he’d feel my secret through my shirt.

Ethan and Clay spend the hours spotting lizards or pointing out vultures circling in the sky. Clay gives him a few lessons on the local flora and fauna. He teaches Ethan how to get the fruit from a prickly pear. I keep my eyes on the strip of highway beside us. Any dust cloud and we’re running for cover.

After an hour of trekking through the heat of the day, Ethan’s asthma kicks in. I try to carry him, but he waves me away, wheezing slightly with his purple lips. At the two-hour mark, he tumbles into the sand. I run up to him and roll him over. The fine sand crystals dot his flushed face. His cheeks blaze bright red on his pale face.

“Ethan, you alright?” I gasp.

He blinks at me. “I feel dizzy.” He struggles to sit up.

I put a hand on his chest. “You need to drink. Just hold on.” I pull his head onto my knees and use my body to shade his face. I hand him the water jug.

“Sip slowly,” I say when he takes it.