“McIvers? Don’t worry. He’s not as reckless as he seems—just impatient. We are over a hundred miles behind schedule and we’re moving awfully slow. We only made forty miles this last drive.”
The Major shook his head. “I don’t mean McIvers. I mean the kid.”
“Jack? What about him?”
“Take a look.”
Stone was shaking. He was over near the tractor—away from the rest of us—and he was lying on his back, but he wasn’t asleep. His whole body was shaking, convulsively. I saw him grip an outcropping of rock hard.
I walked over and sat down beside him. “Get your water all right?” I said.
He didn’t answer. He just kept on shaking.
“Hey, boy,” I said. “What’s the trouble?”
“It’s hot,” he said, choking out the words.
“Sure it’s hot, but don’t let it throw you. We’re in really good shape.”