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“Neat.” Renzo looked it over, then handed both items back. “I’ve got a picture in mine too.”
“Let’s see.”
Renzo pulled out his wallet, and Canaan had to tease him about his military ID photo. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only SEAL to smile for your ID and do your hair first.”
“There’s no regulation against looking good.” Renzo laughed, but it sounded as forced as Canaan’s. He pulled out a photo of his own, two chubby Italian boys with their arms around each other, smiling for the camera.
“You?” Canaan guessed.
“And my brother.” Renzo’s expression changed, hardened. “I don’t carry it for luck exactly. More to...remind me I guess.”
“Remind you? About what?”
“Family.” Renzo’s face shuttered, not inviting further questions. Well, okay then. There was more to the story, Canaan was sure, but he wasn’t going to force Renzo to talk even if he was damn curious. “Do you think you could eat a piece of a sandwich?”
It was a clear change in topic, but Canaan let him have it. “I could try.”
“Good. We need to eat the most perishable stuff first.” Renzo cut one of the sandwiches into precise fourths and handed a square to Canaan.
“I wish the rain would stop,” he said after finishing his piece of sandwich. The gloomy skies kept pelting them, stray drops finding them even with the protection of the overhang.
“Me too.” Renzo sighed. “But this also might be our only chance to collect a little water.”
“Smart thinking.” They set out the emptiest of the water bottles and then Renzo rigged the wrappers from the space blankets to work as kind of plastic baggies.
“Every drop counts,” Renzo said, gravely. “How are you doing temperature wise? Cold? Want a space blanket?”
“Nah. I’m good.” In actuality, Canaan was damp and chilled, but he wasn’t going to complain when Renzo was in the same boat.
“Okay.” Satisfied with his water collection devices, Renzo returned to sit behind Canaan, one leg on either side of him. “Body heat may be more effective than the space blankets right now anyway.”
“Remind me to never complain again about you being too cuddly.” He relaxed into Renzo’s embrace, big yawn escaping his mouth.
“If you can sleep, you go right ahead. I’ll keep watch.”
“It’s the middle of the day. I shouldn’t be so tired,” Canaan protested.
“Adrenaline drop. It’s a thing. And you conserving your energy isn’t a bad thing. The more energy we have, the better we can cope with the wait.”
Again with the wait. Canaan hated this, hated all the long hours and uncertainty stretching out in front of them. Renzo had said he had a plan, but Canaan couldn’t help the sinking feeling that it might not be enough, that they might have stumbled on the one situation that not even a SEAL could solve.
Chapter Thirteen
Renzo held Canaan while he dozed. A warm, sleepy Canaan in his arms lulled him into a sort of half-awake state where he drifted along, mind churning like the water below them, but he was unable to hold on to his thoughts, make something useful out of them. The rain kept up, but gradually, as the afternoon dragged on, it lessened.
Blinking, Canaan stretched. “Rain’s stopping. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Yeah. Gotta hope it doesn’t return.”
“They’ll be able to start searching for us, though.”
“They have to know we’re gone first.” Renzo hated having to remind him. “Either the guides miss their check-in time, and a search is called for the whole group, or at least one group makes it back, and a search is on for everyone else.”
Canaan spent a long time looking down into the slot canyon below them. “I know it’s stupid, and I know you hate Damian—”
“I don’t hate him. I’m not a fan, but I don’t wish bad shit on anyone.”
“Yeah. I don’t want him...gone. Or Eric. Or any of them.” Canaan’s voice sounded far off. “Hell, if the groups aren’t together, they may not know you and I are missing—the front group may think we’re with the rear group and vice versa.”
“Yup. We’ll know better tomorrow.” Renzo didn’t raise the other possibility, which was that at least one of the groups had washed away and that they’d be presumed to have been with that group. He was being generous telling Canaan that tomorrow had a strong possibility of rescue when the reality was that they could be looking at days, particularly if the canyon didn’t dry out. Especially if there were casualties, it could take that long just for rescuers to figure out what had happened. But he knew from experience that taking things in manageable chunks helped, so he kept Canaan focused on tomorrow.
“Damian wasn’t always so awful.” Canaan continued to study the terrain below them. “He’s killer smart. He and Jules have written most of our—the band’s—stuff. And in high school, he was so fun to be around, but not a party animal. My grandparents loved him. They called him a good influence on me. He could be a nice guy.”
