Reaping by K. Makansi Page A

side before I can even call to them. Firestone looks dazed. His eyes are glazed over and distant.
    “Dehydration,” I say immediately, watching his eyes. “Side effect of severe burns.”
    “And exhaustion,” Kenzie says, impatient. She pulls out her water canteen and hands it to Firestone. “Drink,” she says curtly. “We’ve been running nonstop for over an hour, after a hard day’s walk and the heat of that fight back there. We all need to rest.”
    “Goddamn,” Firestone swears, no longer under his breath.
    “Good time to stop,” I say.
    “About time,” Kenzie responds, as though I had been the one prodding them on for the last few miles. “It’s past dark, and we can’t keep moving like this.”
    “Why the fuck didn’t you say so before,” Firestone says loudly, his eyes still unfocused.
    Kenzie and Jahnu look at each other.
    “We need to make camp,” she says. “Get some salt and clean water in him. He needs electrolytes.” She looks up at Jahnu. “You guys find us a spot to camp. I’ll stay with Firestone.”
    Firestone waves a hand in Kenzie’s face, laughing wearily. “I’m not at death’s door. Quit talking about me like I’m not here.”
    “You better not be at death’s door,” Kenzie says. “You’d never live it down, dying because you hadn’t had a drink all day.”
    “Ha ha. I’ll take a drink. A stiff one, please.”
    Jahnu and I split up, taking care not to go too far, looking for a flat area big enough for us to pitch our tents, but small enough for us to remain hidden in the underbrush. It’s not long before I hear Jahnu’s whistle.
    While Kenzie tends Firestone, Jahnu and I unpack and set up camp. The spot Jahnu’s picked is under an enormous old tree trunk that fell into the arms of another tree. It’ll be a tight squeeze, with both tents tucked under the old canopy, but it’ll give us an additional screen from anyone who might be tracking us.
    The four of us squeeze into one tent to tend to Firestone and share what little provisions we have left. Firestone looks much better now that he’s not moving anymore. He’s laughing again, and swearing a lot, which tells me he’s mostly back to normal. Once Kenzie realizes that he’s not in danger of fainting, she pulls an aloe ointment out of her pack and starts slathering it over the burn on his shoulder.
    “Fuck!” he swears. “That shit hurts like hell.” Jahnu and I look at each other and smile. As long as Firestone is cursing, we know he’ll be okay.
    “It’s antibacterial,” she says, looking at him apologetically. “We have to clean and dress the burn.”
    “Hey, Firestone. What was it you were chewing and rubbing on your shoulder earlier?” I ask.
    “Plaintain leaves. Common weed, grows all over. Just like dreamweed. It’s antibacterial, too, but it soothes the burn. Doesn’t bite like whatever evil concoction Dr. Kenzie Oban’s got here. But you gotta macerate it to release the juices and oils. That’s why I was chewing it. Works well enough, though.”
    “Human saliva can help, too, which probably makes the plantain leaves more effective,” Kenzie adds.
    “You gonna start spitting at me now?” Firestone pulls back in mock terror.
    “If you don’t sit still, I might,” Kenzie says.
    Firestone stills and turns to me. “So V, you’re our resident Sector expert,” Firestone says, using the abbreviation he’s become fond of. I can’t tell yet if it’s a term of endearment or ridicule. I’m hoping it’s the former, but Firestone’s easy attitude never gives much away. “What the hell happened back there?”
    “I’d guess roughly the same thing as happened at Thermopylae. As an above-ground structure, Waterloo would have been a lot easier to find than Thermopylae. Even disguised as a run-down old shed. They probably sent some drones to take photos, do surveillance, and then sent in a few squads of soldiers once they figured it out.”
    There’s a long silence as Kenzie dresses