My legs are going to fall off,” Matheus said.
“Everything’s going black.” Alistair crashed into Matheus, draping his arms around Matheus’ shoulders. “Carry me.”
“Oof, get off me.” Matheus shoved at Alistair.
Alistair skidded sideways a few steps before catching himself. His feet dragged over the pavement as he walked.
“I’m tired,” he said. He rested his forehead on Matheus’ back, matching his pace.
“I’m not your mother,” said Matheus. He shrugged, but Alistair refused to be dislodged. Matheus gave up.
In front of them, Heaven wafted down the cracked concrete, apparently unaffected by the ten-mile hike. They’d left the city proper, climbing up the sloping hill that overlooked the bay. A wealthy few had summer homes there, but the lack of shops and beaches made the area less popular than the more level side of the bay. Matheus had offered to steal a car, but Heaven proclaimed that walking cleansed the soul. She refused to stop even when Matheus pointed out a very nice Jaguar sedan idling in front of a 7-Eleven.