Tarma, Peru.

Thomas grasped for a word which drifted at the edge of his consciousness like a wisp of smoke. A heavy-metal scream swept it away. Double Impact had finished, and the DVD screen saver played on repeat at a deafening volume.

My God.

"Tarma!"

He caught the word this time, and it jerked him into wakefulness. Tarma. This was their stop. He turned to his side and prodded Nadia.

She swatted at him with her hand and mumbled something incomprehensible.

He shook her. "Nadia! Nadia, this is us!" In response, her lids opened, stiff and reluctant as clam shells.

"Huh?"

A slamming of metal came from outside. The luggage doors. Damn it! What if they drove off with them still onboard and their bags in the street?

He jumped from his seat and tripped into the aisle, his hand landing in chewing gum. Kneeling, he yanked the sticky glob off, pulled himself upright, and raced down the stairs, bursting through the open door.

The frigid mountain air hit him like a slap and dissolved any trace of sleepiness. Senses on high alert, he whirled to the left as the driver stepped back aboard. Turning to his right, he spied the lumps of two backpacks abandoned on the cobblestone road. He circled back to the exit. Still no Nadia — and his daypack, wallet, passport, everything vital was on the bus.

For a moment, Thomas deliberated what to do, then raised his hands imploringly. "Pare, pare, por favor!"

The man regarded him, muttered something, and stopped his ascent, apparently willing to wait a little longer.

"Gracias!"

Thomas hurried back upstairs and found Nadia stooped over their seats, collecting their possessions with sleep-muddled disorientation. "Have you got everything?"

"Well, I frickin' well hope so." She tossed over his pack and dipped her hand into her own. "One, two, three. Yep, all good. You?"

Thomas ran his hands over the overhead compartment, then crouched to recheck the seats and back pockets. "One can only hope. Let's go!"

The vehicle hummed to life a moment before they leapt out. Seconds later, it jolted up the street, red lights fading away into the gloom.

They stood in near darkness, except for where the moon and a street light down the road illuminated the crude concrete buildings. A dry cold seeped into Thomas' bones. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

The light of Nadia's head torch flicked on, and he blinked.

"Urgh, what time is it?" she asked.

He turned his wrist and squeezed the button on his Rolex. "Three thirty-four." They should have arrived well before ten-o'clock — with plenty of time to check-in to their chosen guesthouse.

Nadia fished out his Lonely Planet book, turned it to the page she had folded and studied the tiny map of Tarma proper, squinting. "I think we're here," she said on a cloud of fog, pointing to a corner with the tip of her finger. But stuffed if I know."

It was late. They needed to find somewhere to sleep, and they'd freeze if they remained standing still. Best to get moving.

He craned his head to make a quick examination of the page and nodded. "I suppose there's only one way to find out."

They hefted their packs and trudged down the road, searching for a street sign.

Sometime later, they stood before a white corrugated fence. Nadia rapped loudly, and they waited. The minutes stretched out until a sleepy woman of middle years pulled back a viewing window and stared at them.

"Tienes habitaciones?"

A clenched fist rubbed at slitted brown eyes. "Solo una cama."

Nadia contemplated Thomas, biting her lip. He smiled back wanly, understanding there was only one room. It was cold and dark, but he wasn't going to force her to share a bed with him, much as he wanted to. They might be able to find something else.

"Bueno," said Nadia.

Thomas sighed in relief. The gate creaked open, and they entered. It clanged behind them.

"Pagar por la mañana," said the woman with a yawn, dismissing the check-in desk with a wave of her hand.

Thank God. He didn't think he could handle any paperwork, let alone an argument over payment, at this hour.

They shadowed the robed figure as she shuffled along a narrow corridor and up a flight of steps with a wrought-iron railing. She opened a lacquered-wood door to a small, whitewashed room dominated by a mockery of a double bed.

Thomas grinned. Nadia glared. The rest of the chamber held a chair, chipped desk and another door. Please let it be an en suite.

Nadia dropped her bag and made her way through the door. A tinkle sounded from the other side.

Thomas thanked the woman, silently closed the door behind her, and changed into his pyjamas.

Eventually, with clean teeth and an empty bladder, he slid between cold sheets that held the faint smell of mildew, shivering. Air seeped in through the gap between window and pane. He wriggled slightly closer to Nadia, hoping to generate more warmth and felt her do the same. They didn't touch, not quite. Nor did they face each other. Just laid back to back, knees bent, elbows pressed together, their hands resting under their chins and the covers bunched up to their noses. A spark of heat blossomed in the centimetre separating them. Just a little nudge and he would be able to brush against her. He dared not, lest he would smother the flame.

Outside, a truck chugged down the street, and Thomas tasted a ghost of dust. A dog barked in the distance, followed by a chorus of canines. The lullaby of sounds wove a cocoon about them, and they slept.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pare, pare, por favor! — Stop, stop, please!

Gracias — Thank you

Tienes habitaciones? — Do you have any rooms?

Solo una cama. — Only one bed.

Bueno — Good

Pagar por la mañana — Pay in the morning

Image by Juan Encalada on Unsplash.