They had reached the kitchen by then and Sarita considered the stack of items on the island and snatched up a pile of towels. Tossing them onto the stove, she said, “I suppose we don’t need those. The supersized bath towels can do double duty as Santa sacks and towels if necessary.”
Domitian raised his eyebrows. That was all she didn’t think they’d need? His gaze swept the stack of items and he picked up a plastic box about the size of a ream of paper. “What about this?”
“It’s a sewing kit,” she explained, taking it away from him and setting it back on the island with the other items.
“You intend to get in a little sewing around the campfire at night?” he asked dryly.
“Not me, but those boxers of yours look kind of flimsy. Catch them on a branch or something else and you might be as good as naked if we don’t have something to sew them up,” she pointed out, and then shrugged and added, “But I was thinking more along the lines that the sewing kit might come in handy if one of us gets badly injured and needs sewing up. The first aid kit has antiseptic and bandages and such, but nothing to close a deep wound.”
That gave Domitian pause. Considering the cuts in her upper legs and the glass in her foot, Sarita was proving almost more dangerous to herself than Dressler was so far. If she continued as she was going, he might very well have to sew up some wound or other at some point. Still, they could just take a spool of thread and a needle. It wasn’t necessary to drag the whole sewing kit along with them, he thought and was about to say so when Sarita spoke up again.
“Besides, while it’s larger than I’d like, it’s a nice flat surface and might come in handy for cleaning fish on, or setting things on that we don’t want to get dirty, like bandages. And,” she added, picking it up again and hefting it. “It’s pretty light, so won’t add to the weight.”
“Very well.” Domitian gave in. Her arguments were actually pretty good, but there was still way too much for them to be carting around, so he turned to the island and snatched up a pile of white cloth, only to frown as it unraveled and he recognized it. “Is this your nightgown?”
“It was the nightgown I was wearing,” Sarita corrected, apparently unwilling to claim it as her own. Picking up a second ball of cloth, she said, “And this is the robe I was wearing. But—” she pulled the hem of the robe over her head and grinned at him through the gossamer material, “—now they’re mosquito netting to keep the bugs out while we sleep. I washed the blood out of both of them,” Sarita added and then examined the material as she removed it and pronounced, “They’re both almost dry already.”
It was actually a pretty clever idea, but Domitian didn’t say so. He was troubled by the fact that she seemed to think they would have to walk for more than a day to find civilization and help. Or perhaps he was more distressed that he couldn’t assure her that wouldn’t be the case. Turning to the items on the island, he pulled out a racket next and pursed his lips as he spun it in his hand.
“A tennis racket? Really?” Domitian shook his head. “Where did you even find it?”
“It’s a badminton racket,” she corrected, taking it from him. “And I found it in one of the wicker storage boxes on the terrace. There was a badminton net too and I considered bringing that, but it’s far too big and bulky, so I decided that the racket and stockings would do instead.”
“Do for what?” he asked with bewilderment.
“As a fishing net,” she said as if that should be obvious. When he merely stared at her blankly, Sarita sighed with exasperation and picked up one of a pair of stockings. Holding the racket up, she explained, “We slice out the strings of the racket so it’s a hoop, loop the top of the stocking over the hoop and sew it on, and voila, a net to catch fish.” Peering at the silky cloth Sarita smiled wryly and added, “A shame they aren’t fishnet stockings, huh?”
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.