Calzone

Last night, for the first time in months, it rained. 

A single thunderclap sliced through the night, setting James's nerves on fire. The forest quietly bristled with anticipation. The gentle pitter-patter through the canopy was a welcome surprise as the desolate trees breathed a sigh of relief. 

Last night, for the first time in months, James slept soundly. 

…

“I can’t do this.” Tom groaned. 

James maintained a brutal pace, “Just keep walking.” He sighed from up ahead.

“It's too hot.” 

Tom was right, it was scorching. The rain was a blessing, a gentle reprieve from the harsh weather of the southwest zone, but all good things screeched to a halt when the sun came out to play. Wet ground had begun to steam, turning the trail into a living, breathing sauna. 

“You’ll live.” James grunted. He felt another drop of sweat carve its way down his spine. The heat was affecting  him too, his hands ached from cracked skin and his body was covered in hives that itched for days,  but he couldn’t be bothered to stop— they were too far behind schedule for his liking. 

“Can we take a break?” Cynthia huffed, wiping her face on her shirt. 

How long had they been walking? James couldn’t be sure. God it was hot, which was normal for the scorched remains of San Diego County, but this? This was something else. He pushed on without replying. 

A few minutes passed, stretching into eternity, a heavy silence loomed over the hikers, broken by occasional groans and the wet squelch of their footsteps on damp earth. The convoy was slowing by the second. 

Tom was the first to break the silence. “Are we there yet?”

James sighed. “No.”

“How much further? 

James pushed ahead of him, ignoring his companion. 

“Alright then,” Tom muttered.

James wasn’t just worried. He was downright terrified. The past few days had been nothing but unpredictable weather, dwindling supplies, and setback after setback. It struck every last nerve he had. The group still had more than thirty miles to go to reach the next checkpoint, and they were running out of time. They were almost two days behind schedule, and the reality of a slow painful death was starting to sink in— like storm-clouds rolling over the horizon. Making up for lost time was all he could think about–that, and keeping the ten other lives in his hands safe and sound. The group trusted him to lead them to safety and he was failing miserably. 

“I’m thirsty,” Cynthia coughed out.

“My feet hurt.” Sarah complained, leaning against a tree.

“Ugh. I’m so done.” Jennifer huffed, her face flushed and drawn. 

James bit his tongue, trying to tune the others out. Did these idiots not understand the gravity of the situation? Did they realize what was at stake? They were on the highway to hell in an AC Cobra with the devil at the wheel! Tom in particular seemed like he was doing everything in his power to get on James’ nerves: always questioning his plans, nagging at every little discomfort, and being wasteful with supplies. It was infuriating. 

“...I’m thirsty. This is so lame.” Tom huffed. 

James stopped abruptly, nails digging into his palms. He took a shallow breath, and then whipped around. “God dammit! Will you just shut the fuck up and deal with it already! I have heard nothing but your bitching and moaning about every little thing this entire fucking week.” 

Tom took a step back, mouth agape. 

James pivoted to address the group.

“We are TWO WHOLE DAYS BEHIND SCHEDULE! We are running out of supplies. If we don’t get there within the next forty-eight hours we will die!” Everyone stared in stunned silence. He could tell what they were thinking: calm and collected James had finally lost his mind. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. 

“So either keep up or die. Your choice.” James spat through gritted teeth. He spun around and continued down the trail. 

“Well maybe I'd rather die!” Tom yelled.

James stopped in his tracks. “Really?” He turned back slowly, anger bleeding into amusement, his sanity now on thin ice. 

“Probably beats living in this hellscape.” Tom gestured to the smoldering sun and shriveled trees.

 James took his time approaching Tom, stepping forward until their faces were inches apart. Tom, to his credit, stood his ground. The other hikers held their breath. 

After a moment, James shrugged. “Okay.”.  

Tom balked. “Okay?” 

“Have it your way.” James reached for his belt and unholstered his pistol, offering it to Tom. “Take this.” 

“W-Why?” Tom sputtered, taking a step back.

“So you can kill yourself. Or do I need to do it for you?” 

“Excuse me?” He pushes away the gun. 

“Well if you wanna die that much, then give the barrel a kiss and say goodnight.” James shrugged, his face a mask of clinical disinterest.  

“Are you insane? I can't do that!” 

“So you don't actually want to die. Noted.”  James reholstered the gun. 

“You’re crazy.” 

“Oh! So I’m the crazy one for offering a solution to your problem? It’s not my fault that all you wanna do is keel over and die.  Why should we…” James gestured to the group,  “have to put up with it too? If you wanna give up so badly that's fine by me, but I’m going out kicking and screaming and clawing at the earth till my fingers snap!”

Silence. 

The group stared at Tom, eyes wide with anticipation. Tom glared at James, fists balled and ready to strike.

James wouldn’t give him the reaction he wanted. He remained still, sizing Tom up. Sure, Tom was bigger and stronger than James, but he couldn’t compete with James’s speed and sheer skill. And if worse came to worst, James could afford to waste a few rounds if absolutely necessary. 

The other hikers watched eagerly, the air thick with anticipation. Tom finally yielded, staring down at the dirt on his sneakers, red with embarrassment. 

James nodded in acceptance. “We gotta cover ten miles east before sunset,” he addressed the group. “Let's move.” 

He started a rapid pace down the trail, the other hikers slowly shuffling along with a begrudging Tom following behind. 

“Son of a bitch.” Tom cursed. 

“Laying down and dying is for bitches and I'm nobody's bitch!” James 

shouted back from up the trail. The other hikers burst into howling laughter.  Tom gave James the stink eye, and James shot back a shit-eating grin. They cracked up, and the tension between them melted away. Peace descended over the convoy. 

  That night, for the second time in months, James slept soundly.

-RA