A Life Rescued

The Friends

The Monday of his second week in Duck, Jesse woke feeling particularly settled. The recovery he had been going through since his release from the hospital was progressing well, he assessed. Aside from a few moments of disorientation, the past week had been good for him, something he was not entirely sure would happen when he first arrived. Only once did he feel any panic and a desire to contact Dr. Carlson, but that too passed quickly and he took it as yet another indication he was making progress. He had thought of a number of questions for the psychiatrist, but those were insignificant compared with ones from a few weeks back. All in all, Jesse was happy and relaxed.

Seeing the sun outside, he jumped up, used the toilet, brushed his teeth, and dressed for his morning run with Leslie. She was already up and sitting in the kitchen tying her running shoes. Hearing her best friend enter, she turned, but did not give him her usual morning smile. Jesse asked what was wrong and she explained.

"Joan and Brian can't come down, the kids are all sick."

Jesse grimaced knowing how much Leslie was anticipating their arrival, and he liked them, too. "Sorry, I know you were looking forward to seeing them."

Leslie shrugged: There was nothing she could do about it. "Ready?" she asked, knowing he was. "Have you been out this morning?"

"No, I just got up."

Leslie finished tying her other shoe, jotted down a brief note that they were out jogging, and jumped up, holding out her hand. Together they stepped outside... into a distressingly hot and humid July morning.

"Ugh," groaned Jesse, holding her arms out, already blinded the moisture in the air condensing on his sunglasses. "It must be near ninety already. I was hoping for better weather."

Leslie mournfully echoed his lament.

The two moved into the shade of the house and stretched for a few minutes, by which time they were already soaked with perspiration. It was shaping up to be their roughest morning run yet.

Leaving a couple towels over one of the exterior shower doors, they started off at their usual leisurely pace for the first two miles, but it didn't take long for the heat to get to them. Both also suffered from the higher humidity, and the second two miles, usually run faster, retained the slower pace. At the four mile mark, both had finished all their water and the final two miles before them began to appear more like a trek across the desert. Their shirts, with the high humidity, were soaked and clung to their skin. Jesse pealed his off, wrung it out, and tied it around his head. (Leslie drew up energy to wolf-whistle at him but even that came out sounding tired.) The make-shift turban worked well, shielding his head from the sun, and the evaporating wetness even offered some cooling. Leslie seriously considered doing the same thing, they'd seen girls running on the beach wearing only athletic bras as tops, but decided against it. With her stamina rapidly waning, they stopped and walked the final mile, feeling as if they'd covered far more ground than they had.

Their mouths dry made talking difficult, so they walked hand-in-hand, almost staggering the final few hundred yards to the house and outdoor showers. They had, over the past week, used the shower to wet their head after the run. This morning, however, Leslie walked in completely clothed and turned on only the cold nozzle, letting the water pour over her. But the refreshment she'd hope to feel was not there: The water was lukewarm, and drinking it made her gag. Feeling lightheaded, she asked Jesse to help her up the stairs, which he did immediately and noticed her skin was cool and dry to the touch when it should have been warm and wet, a sure sign of dehydration and heat exhaustion, Jesse took her to the kitchen, pouring both of them a glass of chilled water from the fridge. Leslie drank hers greedily, and then another, and finally began to look better, though not noticing the blanket here boyfriend had put over her shoulders.