Dom Wars: Round 6
my exposed skin, wincing where the chemical soaked into a scrape or cut or bite that I’d scratched raw. Then we found a spot to sit while Preacher cooked our fish over the fire. We’d saved the cookware at least and Lucian and I shared a plate of fish, mmming like two primitive people in the Wild West. But it was so good. The taste of fish was strong but clean and though I wasn’t normally a big fish person, I was sure this moment was going to create quite a hankering in me.

Chapter Six
    I paced beneath the flag again, studying every angle. Fuck this waiting bullshit, we needed to leave already. “I don’t see anything. Lift me up.”
    Preacher stooped down like he’d just been waiting for me to make up my mind. Once again with my feet locked around the trunk of his body, he stood. I lifted the material, and yelled, causing Preacher to jump back, nearly throwing me from his shoulders save the iron clamp of his hands on my legs. “Jesus Bane, what!”
    “Shit, there’s something under the flag.”
    “Like what?”
    “Something…taped. Duct taped. That fucker’s going to have every one of these rigged with something.”
    “Use this,” Tara stretched a stick toward me and I took it.
    “Go slow,” I told Preacher as he approached again.
    “You don’t have to tell me, ” he muttered, sidling toward the flag, my stick leading the way.
    “Good enough, that’s good.” I struggled to lift the flag and get a better look at what the hell was under it. “What the hell is it?”
    “Just…go slow,” Preacher said.
    “A hair closer, just lean a little.” Stupid stick kept slipping around whatever was beneath the flag. “Lean an inch more.”
    “Oh God, be careful,” Tara gasped.
    “Bane, stop with this torture ballet, you lean an inch more.”
    I finally got a look. “It’s…a fucking candy bar, a fucking Hershey’s bar. Get me closer.” I carefully pulled the candied blue flag down. “Got it.”
    Preacher lowered to his knees and I climbed off showing all of them. “A fucking candy.” I un-taped it becoming once again aware of all the little injuries in my body that you get from nearly going over waterfalls. Not to mention the buried stick under the mossy Earth I’d slept on all night long. Preacher looked at the map while I opened the candy and broke it into four even pieces.
    “It’s not showing on the map but the terrain is changing,” he said. “Uphill. I don’t know for how long but I do know it’s going to be difficult.”
    I handed Becca and Tara their pieces and then Preacher, who took it and examined it. Sniffed it. “Don’t eat it!” His voice boomed out with his hand toward Becca. He threw the candy on the ground. “Unless you want diarrhea for the next few hours. This smells like that chocolate laxative stuff old people take.”
    Tara wondered the name of the product aloud.
    “Yes. That.”
    I wondered briefly how he’d be so acquainted with such a thing as we all threw the candy down. I put my arm around Tara who loudly mourned and grumbled over the near snack. “Bastard is playing dirty, isn’t he?” I eyed Preacher, looking for signs of what he was really thinking.
    “Let’s just get our little caravan on the trail. I want to make it to the next flag, dry and before dark if possible so I can hunt a decent meal.” He nodded at me. “Lead the way chief.”
    I looked around then at the compass on my wrist. “That way.” I pointed north-east and grimaced. “Looks like we’ll be hacking through more dense shit. Only uphill.”
    We all shouldered what few provisions we had left. As glad as I was for a lighter load, I was not happy that we’d lost our food rations and some of the other important items that could have come in handy. We couldn’t carry as much water now, having lost most of our extra bottles. At least we still had our soup cans. And when were we going to get more supplies?
    We followed Preacher, stopping periodically to check the map and the

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