After about fifteen minutes, his right shoulder burned like fire. Then the strain spread to his biceps and calves. Near the end, he couldn’t tell what was hurting anymore. His entire body was a quivering mass of jelly. She was limp and incoherent in his arms. She asked for Brooke, for Ella, even for Ray. Sometimes she seemed to know who he was and where they were. Once she mistook him for a kidnapper and struggled against him in a short, ferocious burst of energy. “It’s me, Nathan,” he’d said. “You’re okay.” Then she clung to him again, trembling. Nathan didn’t know if she was hypothermic or having an anxiety attack. The rain had let up a little, but they were both soaked. He wasn’t cold because his muscles were working hard and his blood was pumping. He had no idea what to do, other than try to get her warm. If her condition didn’t improve after they took shelter, he couldn’t help her.
