“You’re still bleeding a lot…” Gabe’s gaze darts backwards, almost longingly.
“Not thinking about trying to cause a distraction, are you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good, because as the injured person, it would make far more sense for me to do it.”
“Are you thinking about it?”
“Of course not, I’m not an idiot.” I take a moment to seethe in pain, and then seize his hands. Together.
We leap off the edge to a background of bullets.
Chapter 26
The water hits me like a punch to the gut. A thousand tiny needles cram into my flesh. The icy water crawls into my wound, forcing me to gasp as I struggle to the surface.
I can swim against a current, but each stroke I take feels like I’m being ripped apart. I can barely steer myself away from the rocks. I keep being sucked under.
I’ve lost sight of Gabe. I can still feel him, somewhere, being tossed about as well. I feel queasy with the sensation, then… light-headed.
I’m losing too much blood.
What can I do? I stop swimming to clutch at the wound, but the rapids drag me to the silty bottom and rake me over rocks. Do I keep applying pressure, trusting that my body can withstand the rest of the damage hurled at me? I kick out wildly, pushing away from the rocks.
A few times, I nearly lose consciousness. I’m no longer fighting the water; I’m fighting just to stay awake.
I can’t die here…
My limbs no longer feel like my own. I’m being peeled away from my body. No matter how hard I scream inside, nothing is listening. My eyes grow heavy. Sleep, just for a few moments…
Something slithers around my waist, something hard and strong and warm. Someone is whispering to me. There are words, but all that reaches me is a singular feeling.
Stay.
◆◆◆
I don’t know how far the water carries us. I don’t know how much time passes. The first thing I’m truly conscious of is Gabe pulling me out of the water and lying me against the stony bank. We are still not safe. They will no doubt follow us here. We cannot afford to be complacent.
“You need to get my manacles off,” I tell him. “You’ll have to dislocate my thumbs.”
“Are you crazy? You might need those!”
I shake my head feebly. “One, then. Left thumb. Get it off.”
“What for?”
I gesture to my wound. “I need to close it. With fire.”
Gabe swallows. “It’ll hurt.”
“Oh, really, do you think? Don’t be a baby. Get it off.”
There is no more discussion. Gabe has already taken my hand. White-hot pain shoots through the limb, and the pain intensifies as he yanks and pulls at the manacle. I’d thought of doing it myself countless times, and I’m now remembering why I didn’t. I nearly pass out again, but the blissful sound of the metal clattering to the rock keeps me anchored. Freedom.
Gabe pops the digit back in as soon as he’s done, but the whole hand is still coursing with pain. He’s cracked a couple bones in the process; fractured my wrist. Can I even summon fire like this?
Think it, don’t feel it.
Flames, weak and watery, cluster around my palm. It’s enough, it’s all I need. Gabe pulls back my uniform to expose the flesh, and then darts back to the stream. He rips off a sleeve and douses it in water, ready to apply to my burns as soon as I am finishing cauterising my own wounds.
“Do you want me to find something to bite down on?” Gabe asks, hovering over me with a dripping compress.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I would scream.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
I press the flames to my skin. Bright, hot agony splits through me. The flesh on my stomach isn’t nearly as adapted as my hands. It bubbles, sizzles, burns. I can smell it.
Gabe slaps on a makeshift bandage as I turn to the side and retch.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him.
Gabe grins. “I’ll give you two.”
◆◆◆
We start moving again as soon as I am able. It is almost dark now. We hear some sounds, far off, but nothing close enough to cause alarm. We are able to crawl through the undergrowth reasonably unencumbered, heading south, towards Luca. Any thoughts we have of reaching it before morning are abandoned. We both know I will not make it. We keep going for as long as I can, putting as much distance between ourselves and the enemy.
A collection of crumbling houses eke out of the woodland. They are roofless, windowless, reclaimed by nature, but they don’t make for obvious shelter, and they have a basement with two entrances; a crumbled opening that once must have been a hatch, and a set of old stone steps. We will not be cornered.
I collapse in a heap on the floor while Gabe gathers up firewood. A part of me thinks we shouldn’t risk it. It’s close to summer, it’s been a warm day, and we’re tough when it comes to temperature. But I’m weak from blood loss, the cold will quickly set in once I adjust to the stillness, and we’re still soaked through. If I’m to get home at all, I need to get warm.
Gabe helps me strip. My arm is set in a rudimentary splint, and nothing is easy. Nothing but sleep…
It’s difficult even to eat. The bread rolls are now nothing more than soggy pulp in our pockets, but the dried fruit is still edible. I’m starting to wish we’d taken up Xaph’s offer of a rat. We could roast it now.
Our clothes hanging around the fire, Gabe crawls to my side and puts his arms around me. This is going to be an uncomfortable sleep, but scared as I am we might be attacked at any moment, I know neither one of us can avoid it. We are depleted of energy, half-starved, half-dead. We are not inhuman. We need rest to rejuvenate.
Wild dogs and other things howl in the darkness. I am glad of them; they will deter anyone sent to track us, but Gabe prickles; this is all new to him.
“Tomorrow night, we’ll be home,” I murmur into his chest. “They’ll be so happy to see you again… especially Mi. I can’t wait to see his face…”
Gabe stiffens, just a fraction. Nerves spill into me.
“Gabe?” I glance up.
“Is he… is he all right?” He swallows. “We barely… we never had time to… how has he, you know, adapted?”
It has been so long since I have seen Mi as anything other than confident, I forget that there was ever a time where he stumbled around. But Gabe hasn’t seen that. His last memories were of him lost and confused.
“He’s spectacular,” I tell him. “You can barely tell. Only thing he can't do is read. Or drive. We won't let him drive.”
“He’s… he’s happy then?”
“I mean, he’s probably royally pissed off that I seem to be dead, but yeah, he’s happy. He’s training to be a doctor.”
“A doctor? Are you serious?”
“I told you he was spectacular…”
“Says the girl who survived a bullet wound, a sixty-foot drop, a broken wrist and self-cauterising her own wounds.”
“Well, I never said I wasn’t spectacular… we’re a spectacular family!”
Gabe holds me closer. “I’m going to miss this.”
“What? Running for our lives? Nearly freezing to death?”
“Holding you.”
Gabe’s hold on me was barely even severed by his death, but things are different now, or will be, tomorrow. We can’t crawl into bed together like we did when we were children. I will miss that, too.
But more than Gabe’s arms, I miss Nick’s. His is the embrace I long for.
Gabe feels every one of these thoughts of mine, but he does not let go.
Chapter 27
A dull ache has crept into every corner of my muscles, into every crevice, by the time that morning arrives. My bones feel like shattered concrete, my skin is tight and agonising. Nothing feels like it’s where it should be.
But we are still alive.
“Morning,” whispers Gabe. He’s already up, checking
the clothes we hung up last night, and stamping out the remains of the fire.
“We made it through the night.”
“We did. How do you feel?”
“Shattered. You?”
“Like I’d sell my soul for an Institute bunk right now.”
I smile, forcing myself into a sitting position. I’m very cold, all of a sudden. Shivering, even.
Gabe passes me my clothes. They’re mostly dry. He helps me into them, ties my laces. My boots squelch uncomfortably.
“I found some nuts,” he says, pressing them into my hand. “It’s not much, but…”
Any sustenance is sustenance, at this point. I hope this isn’t all he’s found. I crunch them down and crawl to my feet. Dammit, I’m struggling to stand. This isn’t good. Gabe’s worry slips into me.
“I’ll make it,” I assure him. “I don’t have a choice. We can’t wait.”
He agrees, although his concern doesn’t let up. He goes to see if he can find a branch for me to use as a crutch while I collect myself. He takes the rifle. We’re nearly out of ammo but he’s in a better condition to use it than I am.
For a few hours, we walk in silence, guided only by the sun. We are slow, very slow. At this pace, we may not reach the slums before nightfall… and what if they’re waiting for us there?
“Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t go back.” Gabe says, reading my thoughts. “They’re sure to know we’re heading for Luca–”
“I know. I know that. But our family is there–”
“We can get a message to them. It doesn’t have to be forever–”
Getting a message to anyone in another city is not easy if you’re in the slums. I don’t know how I’d do it. It could be weeks before we found a way, and the thought of letting them go even longer…
“I can’t,” I tell him. “They’ve been waiting long enough. We’ve been waiting long enough. We have to risk it.”
Gabe nods, but I cannot tell whether or not he agrees with me or just doesn't want to argue. Wants to be there, risks be damned.
The wilderness is unspeakably quiet this morning, so silent that each twitter of a bird seems voluminous. I should be thankful for it –it will make it easier to detect any movement, any hint of our enemies approaching– but it just keeps me on edge, makes every minute stretch out into an hour.
We take a break mid-morning by a stream, guzzling down water. There’s a dull, hollow pain where our bellies used to be. Even the average human being can survive weeks without food, but only when conserving their energies. Pushing on like this without food –especially in my present condition– is far from easy.
The trees slide together. Every rock, every branch, every grassy knoll looks the same. I’m increasingly glad for Gabe’s presence. He is my compass, my evening star. I would not know which way to go if I wasn’t following his steps, disoriented and stumbling as I am.
Just after midday, we stop again on a hillside. From ground level, the woodlands seem endless. It’s hard to believe that metal and concrete and glass exist at all, especially when we come across the shells of fallen settlements, ruined buildings. But from the top of this hill, we see a tall, glistening city emerging out of the earth, a great, glistening metropolis.
Luca.
Despite my hatred of the city, the sight alone makes my energy levels both crumble and soar in the same breath. I half-expect it to be some kind of mirage, the fantasy of a person stranded in the desert and dreaming of an oasis. Down there, somewhere, out of sight, my family is waiting.
Home.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asks.
I cannot look away. My eyes prickle. “I think there were moments when I thought I’d never see it again.”
Gabe looks puzzled. “You’re happy, but you look sad.”
I hastily blink away my tears. “People can cry when they’re happy, Gabe.”
“Do they?”
He’s never seen this. Of course he’s never seen it. There was so little happiness in that place, so little to eke out, and never enough for tears of joy. The closest he ever came to it must have been when he was reunited with me, and that reunion was twinned with fear.
“How far away do you think it is?” he asks, when my silence stretches on.
Abi could give you a perfect estimate, but mine is vague. “Six hours away, perhaps,” I say, staggering to my feet. Pain crawls up my side. “Ah, no, maybe longer.”
“I could carry you, if you like.”
“For six hours?”
“I’m stronger than I was.” He comes forward, places a hand against my back, and slides an arm under my legs, hugging me against his chest. Even if I wanted to pull away from him, I couldn’t. I don’t have the strength.
“This is not the optimal way to carry someone,” I remind him.
“It seems optimal to me.”
He has a sudden urge to kiss me, an urge so strong that it falls straight out of him and into me, tangling against my own emotions, my own desires, making me wonder who and what I want. I can’t do this, but at the same time, it feels easier to surrender. It was a good kiss…
“Don’t,” I ask him, before he’s even moved.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You don’t need to. You know you don’t need to.”
I inch back, just enough to let him know he needs to put me down, which he does… slowly. Reluctantly. I grab my stick and walk on a few paces.
“This isn’t going to be easy, the two of us… together and not together.”
I nod. “Easier than being apart, though.”
“Yes. Obviously easier than that.”
I cannot be without him again. I cannot. Nick will be understanding; he always is. He trusts me. He and Gabe might even get on, when they get to know one another. Nick is like Mi; infinitely likable. They’ll find some common ground. They’ll have to.
There’s a slow rumbling through the trees. We both stop, ears pricked. Motorcycles, not far off. A van or two? Maybe a car?
Our eyes lock together. We need to evade. I’m in no fit state for a fight. Do we head back the way we came and hope they don’t double back? Do we race on ahead, or try to go around? Think, think…
Gabe pulls out the rifle just as a bike comes ploughing through the foliage. He hits one of the riders squarely in the shoulder, sending him spinning the ground, but the driver keeps driving towards us.
“Run, Eve!”
I would be useless to fight like this, unarmed, injured, barely any firepower and one arm out of commission. Gabe needs me to get out of range so he can think, so he doesn’t have to spread his focus trying to protect me. I hate it, I can’t stand it. The last time he was alone in the woods–
Keep them safe. Keep yourself, safe.
His old words churn in my mind as I run, clutching my side, desperately hoping he is following. I can’t return without him. How would I face Mi? Gabe was alive, all this time. We left him there for five years, alone. We escaped again, and I lost him. This time, for good.
I can’t do it again. I won’t.
I’m just about to turn back when I reach the road. I didn’t even realise where I was going. Stupid, foolish Ashe. A police car skids to a halt, tyres burning. An officer climbs out, armed and ready–
I need something, a weapon, something more than this feeble stick. But it’s all I’ve got. I raise it, pointing in his direction, moving my body sidewards to form less of a target.
He aims his gun, but then his eyes lock onto mine, and he falters.
I know him. I’ve seen his face before, only a couple of times. His white-blond hair and pale eyes are more recognisable as his brother’s. That’s the name that spins around my mind first. Harris.
“Henson,” I remember. He’s an ally, a guard at Luca’s wall.
“It’s you,” he says, lowering his weapon. “The Firebird.”
Now it is my turn to be shocked. “Firebird” was Nick’s name for me. My superhero alter ego. I joked I wanted it as my call
sign. I’d never publicly acknowledged it though. How does Henson know about it?
“You’re supposed to be dead,” he continues, putting his weapon away. “Everyone… everyone said…”
“What can I say? Takes more than fire to kill a firebird.”
He chuckles a little at this, nervously. “It’s true then? You can… you can create fire?”
I raise my wounded hand, and summon a tiny flame for him, barely more than a lighter could achieve. His eyes brighten.
“Whoa,” he gasps. Then his gaze shifts to my wrist, my blood-stained clothes. “You’re injured.”
“I’ve been better, it’s true.”
There’s the sound of running through the undergrowth. Gabe. Thank the stars. He arrives breathlessly at my side, rifle raised–
“Stop!” I warn him. “Don’t shoot!”
Henson holds up his hands. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You certainly won’t.” Gabe cocks his gun.
“Gabe! He’s not a threat. I know him.”
“Fine,” he lowers his aim, just a fraction. “Step aside. We’re taking the car.”
“Let me take you,” he offers.
“Like hell will we–”
“You don’t want to take an officer’s car without them in it. They’re equipped with tracking devices. They’ll be hot on your trail.”
“Then don’t report us.”
“They’re going to have a few questions when they find me by the roadside, aren’t they?”
The sounds of other vehicles in the distance intensify. They are getting closer. Henson gestures to his weapon, then back to me. “Pick it up. Take it. Aim it at me the entire journey, if you want. Only let me take you back to Luca.”
Luca.
Gabe’s grip is still tight on his weapon, but he glances across at me. I nod, and he lowers it. I pick up the handgun, half-wanting to hand it back to Henson immediately. I always want to trust people, I’ve just learned not to.
“Get in,” he instructs.
Chapter 28
We climb into the back and shut the doors. Henson starts the ignition and the car purrs into life. Lucan vehicles are so much quieter than ours. What do they run on?
Resurrection Page 10
