Page 82 of Reset

“Do you have anything to eat?” Ryan asked the boys.

“Oui.” Le Chat dug into his backpack and produced a paper bag with the word pâtisserie stamped on it. “Please, eat.” He handed it to Ryan.

Peeking inside, Ryan found two bashed, but edible, pains au chocolat. Instantly, he was drooling.

“How much can we have?” he had to ask.

Le Chat shrugged. “All of it.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, meaning it.

Taking out the larger of the two chocolate-filled pastries, he handed it to Sarah. “Time to top up your energy, Stats.”

She smiled weakly before nibbling on the pastry. Ryan didn’t like the limp she’d developed since they got out of the bone-filled passage. Her leather shoes had become stiff after being in the water and were obviously rubbing against her feet. The Band-Aids she’d kept in her bag were long gone, the adhesive ruined by the same water that’d turned her shoes into torture devices. But she couldn’t walk like this. More to the point, he wouldn’t let her.

“Wait a minute,” he said to the boys before turning to Sarah. “Let’s have a look at your feet.”

She held up a hand in protest. “They’re fine.”

“Then you won’t mind showing them to me.”

With a sigh, Sarah steadied herself by putting a hand on the wall beside her and stepped out of her shoes—with a wince. There was a burst and bloody blister on one heel, and red raw toes on both feet.

“You’re wearing my shoes.” Ryan kicked his off before delving into their bag for the precious antibacterial wipes. “We’ll get you cleaned up first.”

“I can’t wear your shoes. They’re far too big for me, and besides, what will you wear? I’ll be fine in my own shoes. Some padding or something to stop them rubbing would be good though.”

“We’re way past that, Stats. I didn’t realize your shoes were this solid and had dried in some weird shapes. You might as well be wearing those wooden shoes they have in Holland.”

“Clogs,” Le Chat said helpfully.

“Yeah, those.” Gently, he took each of her feet in turn and wiped them clean.

“I can’t wear your shoes,” Sarah protested. “You can’t go barefoot.”

“Of course, I can. My feet aren’t all ripped up, so they’ll cope a helluva lot better than yours will.” He looked up at the boys. “You two got an extra pair of socks?”

Again, it was Le Chat who came to their rescue, while The Pit concentrated on keeping his eyes off Sarah.

“They are clean.” He passed them to Ryan.

“Thank you,” Sarah said, making the boy blush.

Ryan ripped a strip from the bottom of his T-shirt and gently wrapped Sarah’s heel before helping her into the socks. He then used his own socks to stuff the toes of his trainers, so Sarah could wear them without them slipping. It looked like she was wearing clown shoes.

“Try not to trip,” Ryan told her, taking her hand.

“Thanks. That feels so much better.” She tugged him down until he bent over far enough for her to press the sweetest kiss to his lips.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by twittering teens. Ryan scowled at them before gesturing toward the tunnel.

“Let’s get going,” he ordered.

They made slow progress through the dark, dirty tunnels. Apart from the endless graffiti, there was nothing to differentiate one section of dusty old brick from another.

“Our place is near,” Le Chat told them after they’d been walking for hours.

“You must speak of it to no one,” La Fosse added.