Immortal Unchained(42)

Domitian smiled faintly at her joke, but merely said, "That is brilliant." He took a moment to enjoy the satisfaction his compliment brought to her face, but then asked quietly, "But you have canned food and water here too. Do you really think we will need to find fish for supper? Just how long do you think it is going to take us to find help?" 

Sarita's pleasure faded at once. Turning back to the island, she set the racket and stockings down and then quietly admitted, "I don't know. But Venezuela's coastline is more than 1,700 miles long. A lot of it is inhabited, but not all, and there are at least four national parks along the coast too that aren't inhabited. I really don't think Dressler would have put us here if it was close to help. Do you?"

"No," Domitian acknowledged solemnly. He'd planned to just pack up Sarita and a few items and charge out of here like a bull charging a red cape. He hadn't considered that it might take longer than he hoped to reach help. Now he considered that and realized this might be more dangerous than he'd first thought. He hadn't considered the effects of trekking for days through the woods without blood to top himself up, or that he might become dangerous to Sarita if that happened. And that was just as a result of the passage of time. It didn't take into account the exertion of the trek, the effects of the heat and sun, or the possibility of injury. Any of those could quickly leave him in serious need of blood and dangerous.

Once those issues were factored in, Domitian began to wonder if this was such a good idea. But they really had no choice.

"Right," he said aloud, straightening and turning on his heel.

"Where are you going?" Sarita asked with surprise.

"I shall be right back," he said instead of answering. "But then we are going to sort through every last item here and get rid of anything that is not absolutely necessary. We cannot possibly take all of this with us."

Domitian didn't wait for her response but made his way quickly to the office and then down into the basement. He'd top up before leaving. Not too much, the nanos would just work to get it out of his system. But Domitian wanted to start out with as much blood in his system as he could safely consume to ensure he lasted as long as possible. He didn't want to harm Sarita.

Trying to distract himself from that worry, Domitian started running through a mental list of the items he'd taken note of upstairs, trying to decide what they could leave behind.



"What time do you think it is?"

Domitian glanced toward Sarita, his mouth twisting with displeasure when he saw how she was flagging under the weight of the "Santa sack" she carried over her shoulder. Despite his determination that they wouldn't take everything she'd collected, in the end they had.

Oh, he'd tried to whittle down the contents, but Sarita had a reason for every item she'd chosen, and her reasons were good. At least they sounded good when she explained them. So they'd ended up piling everything onto the two towels and then gathered the ends making a "Santa sack" each.

While Sarita had teased earlier that he was a big strong guy and could probably carry all of it on his own, her bag was as big, bulky, and heavy as his was. He had tried to take the heavier items in his own bag to lighten her load, but she had refused to allow it, insisting on dividing the items evenly between them and carrying "her share."

The woman was stubborn as a mule, Domitian thought but found his mouth curving into a slight smile at the knowledge. He kind of liked that about her. Oh, not that she was stubborn, really, so much as that she wasn't acting like an entitled princess, expecting him to take care of her and carry the load alone. He liked that she was independent and determined to take care of herself. Still, he hated to see her struggling under the weight of her Santa sack when he could easily carry both without much effort. The problem was finding a way to get her to let him take more of the burden. She was proud and independent. It was tricky.




 

 

"Domitian?"

"Hmm?" He dragged his mind from his thoughts and glanced at her face inquisitively.

"What time do you think it is?" she asked, sounding a little annoyed that she had to repeat the question.

Domitian turned his gaze to the darkening sky overhead. In Caracas, the sun rose between five minutes to six and about ten or twelve minutes after six every morning, but it set eight minutes after six pretty much every night. He didn't think the house they'd been put in could be far from Caracas if the doctor had lived in it while first teaching at the university. Shrugging, he said, "Probably a little before six o'clock."

"Dinnertime," Sarita muttered.

Domitian frowned. They'd only been walking for about an hour, but while they'd started out at a quick clip, Sarita had begun to fall behind a bit after the first half hour. It had surprised him. She was a fit woman. But then she was carrying that ridiculously heavy Santa sack. And trudging through the sand took more energy than walking on the hard-packed earth of the jungle would have.