I glanced her way, noting how she purposefully avoided my gaze. Another kind of cold wormed its way deep in my stomach.
“It was terrible,” I said. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
Her small mouth twisted into a frown.
“At least it’s over,” she said quietly.
“For me?” I asked. “Or for him?” I pictured her again, hobbling down the walkway over the murky swamp. If she had fallen in we may not have been able to reach her in time. I had a bad feeling she’d known that when she’d started.
She acted as though she hadn’t heard me, but I knew she had. She picked at the grass, one blade at a time, tearing it into little pieces, and I stared at her, fighting the image of her small body lying motionless in the water as Rat’s had been. Of her hair, silver in the moonlight, fanning around her head.
I wanted to ask why? And how could you? And to tell her never, ever to do anything like that again. But I couldn’t, because I knew why she had, and that scared me just as much.
“At dawn we’re going back to the mini-mart,” Jack announced, breaking my train of thought. I turned back to where he’d paused, his face shadowed and dangerous in the red glow of the embers. “We told them we’d be back in five days; tomorrow our time’s up.”
There was no way we’d make it back in one day. Two maybe, if we didn’t break for sleep, but probably three.
“You go back then,” said the old man who’d cooked the boar. His silver hair feathered out below his ears and he patted it down anxiously. “I’m not going back there. Not ever.”
“What about my brother?” asked one of the people from Jesse’s group, a lanky girl who believed her brother was laid up in the mini-mart.
“Well we can’t stay here.” Sean came to stand beside Chase. “What’re we going to do? Build tree houses? Live off the land?” Rebecca shifted.
“We’ve been doing all right that way,” objected another man from the safe house. His clothes were covered in grime; he must have been in the party that attacked us. He looked to Chase’s uncle, as if expecting backup, but received none.
It struck me that Jesse’s seniority hadn’t been determined by age; several people here were older than him. He was younger than Chase’s mother, maybe only thirty-five. Based on the way he was kicked back against a felled log like this was nothing more than a camping trip, I wasn’t sure how he’d been made their leader. He didn’t look like the type who wanted to be in charge of the big decisions.
“Looks like you’ve been doing just great,” said Jack. “Least Rat cut out before hearing his folks were part of the ash stuck to the bottom of his boots.”
Several people voiced their disapproval.
“He made his choice,” said Jesse. The others quieted. “Don’t put that on us.”
“Maybe I was just putting it on you,” Jack said, pointing across the flames.
Jesse took a slow breath. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone did.”
I rose to my feet. Jack snorted in disbelief, staring coldly at Chase’s uncle.
“What is your plan?” Curious eyes turned my way.
Jesse stoked the fire, casual as ever. “You’re looking at it.” He didn’t even glance up.
“We can’t keep running—eventually we’ll run out of land. I learned at least that much in school,” Sean said.
“There are lots of empty towns around here. We’ll just start over. Build a new safe house,” said a woman.
Billy snorted. “You don’t have any protection. You tried to take us out with a couple guns and a few kitchen knives. The soldiers have bombs, in case you forgot.”
“Forgot?” Sarah asked, pushing herself off the ground. “How could we forget?” She stalked away from him and he watched her go, scratching his head.
“We’ll make them pay for it,” Billy added. That strange look came over him again, like in the woods when he’d fired the gun into the air. As if the answer was clear as day, and he couldn’t understand why no one else understood.
I did understand, though I wasn’t sure it helped anything. As much as I tried to focus on our current situation, I wanted the MM to pay. For the safe house. For my mother. For every Statute that had shoved the lot of us out into the wilderness.
“That’s the spirit.” Jesse laughed mockingly, causing Billy to hunch over his knees. “I’ll tell you what, kid. You find a way to rally the people, I’ll be right behind you.”
“We need a permanent location,” interrupted Chase. “Regroup. Refuel. We can’t bring our hurt people here.”
“What we need is to send a team back,” pressed Jack.
“Spread us thin, you mean,” said the old man. “Take the strongest of us and leave the rest to fend for themselves. We got kids here, you know.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to where three children slept in the grass.
The tension built steadily, each person that spoke up trying to pull the group their way, then biting back at those who disagreed. Their voices rose, waking a little girl, who began to cry. Soon, others were standing, shoving each other and threatening more. All but Jesse, who continued to stare into the fire, unfazed.
“What about Three?” I called, loudly enough that those closest could hear. A few stopped, eyeing me suspiciously, but the boys from Chicago grumbled.
“Forget about it already,” said Jack.
“Quiet.” Jesse’s voice boomed in the night. “What about Three, neighbor?”
Chase glanced back at me and nodded slightly. He was thinking, as was I, of the house in the town we’d passed, and the guarded supplies within.
My palms grew damp. I wasn’t chilled at all anymore; the pressure of their stares warmed me considerably.
“Three what?” asked one of the survivors.
This struck me as odd: the rumors we’d heard of Three were that they were based at the safe house, yet none of the survivors apart from Jesse seemed to have any clue what I was talking about.
If Three’s base was somewhere else, they might still be out there. They might still be able to fight back. For a moment, the gaping hole I felt in my chest whenever I thought of the safe house seemed to close a little. Alone, we could only scratch at the MM’s defenses, but with Three, I felt like we had a real chance of getting their attention.
“We found supplies in the last town,” I started uncertainly. “I—we—thought that maybe someone else could have put them there. Someone who survived the blast.”
Jesse’s gaze was heavy, and unconsciously I moved closer to Chase.
“No one else survived,” said Sarah bleakly.
“There are rumors of a settlement down the coast,” said Jesse finally.
Stunned silence.
“It’s old,” continued Jesse. “I’m not sure it’s even still there.” He stared forward, as if mesmerized by the flames. “Tomorrow we’ll head further south. If we don’t find them in two days, you’re free to take your team back to the safe house. Or what’s left of it.”
“We’re free to?” snorted Jack. “What makes you think—”
“Two days?” interrupted the girl whose brother was still missing. “What about the people you left behind? My brother needs—”
“What do you think?” I whispered to Chase while the others began to argue again. “We’re supposed to be back by then.”
He nodded, rubbing a crease between his brows with his thumb. “But if we find a settlement, that could mean food, medical supplies…”
“Three,” I said. He nodded.
“Maybe Three.”
As guilty as I felt about stranding the injured, the prospect of finding Three was too big to pass up.
“Just two days,” I said. “If we haven’t found a radio by then, we go back. Agreed?”
Jesse’s eyes traveled from Jack to Chase and lastly to me. He didn’t look to his people; maybe he already knew they’d follow his lead.
“Fine,” said Jack.
“Agreed,” said Jesse.
* * *
/>
WE left at dawn.
The morning was much like the days before, only now we weren’t looking for empty cans or footprints, we were looking for signs of a permanent settlement, and there weren’t just nine of us, there were twenty-six. We could spread out, cover ground faster. With so many to offer protection, we even took our chances on the highway that ran down the coast toward Charleston, South Carolina. There Rebecca and Sarah could walk with more ease, and Jack, nursing the knife wound in his thigh, could hobble slowly behind them.
I watched Rebecca as closely as I could. Something told me not to leave her alone, and every time she branched from the group, I was there, keeping her company. If she noticed what I was doing, she didn’t say anything about it.
Jack and a few of the others from Chicago rallied in the back. Their whispering did not go unnoticed. More than once when I neared, their conversations ended abruptly. I worried they didn’t mean to keep their word—that they’d attempt to take control, or simply disappear, and after the way we’d been received by the survivors, we couldn’t risk more dissension. The silence frayed my nerves. Today’s path had been quiet, but there was a prickling at the base of my neck. It felt like we were being watched.
In the early afternoon the bright scent of oranges drew us into an abandoned grove. The trees were weighed down with fruit, and below on the grass were the rotting remains of those that had fallen.
We weren’t the only tenants. Squirrels, mice, deer, and cats fled when we approached. In the sky, hawks circled. Hunters, watching from above.
Chase had spent the morning scouting our path, but found me once we stopped. As he approached, I busied myself picking oranges, still keeping one eye on Rebecca across the lane, dozing beneath a tree. In our search I’d been able to distract myself from what had happened last night with Rat, and what had happened before in the woods. But now those things hung between us, heavy and impossible to ignore.
He stood just beyond the reach of the tree, fiddling with something in his hand, as if waiting for me to stop. When I did, he took a quick breath, like he was about to dive into cold water, then stepped beneath the shade, having to adjust his position until he found a place he could stand without hitting his head on the branches.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For which part?” I hadn’t meant to be snide, but the words still came out that way. When he slumped I placed the oranges I’d gathered at my feet and wiped the juice off my hands onto my jeans.
“The part where I was an idiot,” he said, clearing his throat. “I don’t want to scare you. Ever.”
He opened his hand, and in his palm was a yellow flower—like a rose, but smaller. When I looked at it, he unfurled my fist and placed it within.
I prodded the tender petals—those that had survived his grasp. Most were bent or torn, but it was still beautiful. Something fluttered inside when I imagined him finding it and carrying it for me.
“I think I might be broken.” He didn’t look up.
I moved closer, feeling his sadness wash over me.
“We’re all broken,” I said. “We just have to put each other back together.”
My loose fist holding the flower came to rest in the center of his chest, locked between us. He leaned down, his forehead touching mine. His eyes closed.
“What if I’m too far gone?”
“Then I’ll find you,” I said. “And I’ll bring you back.”
* * *
HE told me about the first time he’d had to steal food, and the days after Jesse had left him in the wreckage. Stories from the War. At first he didn’t release my hand, and eyed me cautiously, waiting for some sign to stop, but after a while the words began flowing more freely, and as we split an orange he told me funny things, too, about the doomsday prophesiers and the all-night card games he’d play with the other kids at the Red Cross Camps. Before long, we’d polished off another orange, and then a third. We were laughing when Sean ducked under the branches. I shot to my feet, realizing I’d lost track of the time.
“Becca—have you seen her?” Sean’s hair spiked in all different directions, as though he’d been pulling on it.
I stepped out from beneath the boughs into the alley between the rows of trees, dread balling in my stomach. Rebecca had been sleeping here just minutes ago, but in my distraction she’d managed to disappear. From the look on Sean’s face I didn’t have to ask what he was thinking; I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten a bad feeling from her stunt on the bridge.
“She can’t be too far,” Chase said. “She was just here a few minutes ago.” It comforted me that he’d been watching her as well.
Sean threw back his head and groaned.
We split up, each taking a different direction through the grove. Behind me, I could still hear the others in our group, but the deeper I headed into the trees, the more muffled their voices became. Soon, there was no more than the cry of the birds and the crunching of the twigs and fallen leaves beneath my feet.
“Rebecca?”
A sudden movement to my left startled me. I twisted, shoes slipping on a piece of black, rotten fruit, and I caught my balance on a low-hanging branch. When I looked again, there was nothing but the gray-brown base of the tree, and a metal crutch leaning against it.
“Rebecca?” My words were muffled by the thick cover. I grabbed the single brace, searching for any sign of her.
A noise from behind had me spinning around, and I found myself looking at a boy whose face was streaked with mud and half hidden behind a wild brown nest of hair. His clothing was odd: he wore no shirt or shoes, and around his hips hung a pleated skirt that stopped just above his bony knees. He wasn’t one of the survivors; I had no idea where he’d come from.
“Hello,” I said.
He didn’t respond. He stared at me, eyes too round, as though he was forcing them open as wide as he could.
“How old are you?” It was a stupid question, and I wasn’t sure why I asked.
He held out his hands, making the number seven. My brows pulled together. I would have pegged him at twelve, at least.
“Where is your family?” I asked.
His eyes roamed lower, to Rebecca’s silver brace, still in my grip. I stood it up immediately, realizing it probably looked like I was preparing to swing it at him.
“It’s my friend’s. Have you seen her?” I touched my hair. “She has blond, yellow hair. She’s about my height.”
He turned, and began to run.
“Hey!” I took off after him, deeper into the trees. He was sure-footed in this terrain and gained ground quickly. Finally, I stopped, frustration boiling inside of me. There had been a flicker of recognition in his face when I’d asked about Rebecca, I hadn’t made that up.
A branch broke behind me and I turned, a short yelp of surprise bursting from my throat as two more boys—shirtless and smeared with mud like the other one—threw something at me. Trying to block whatever it was, I released the crutch and within seconds my arms and torso were ensnared. When I jerked back, they yanked forward, and I collapsed in a heap.
They’d caught me in a net like I was some kind of animal. It twisted around my legs; the harder I struggled, the tighter the string cut into my neck and face.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked. “Let me go!”
The two boys gathered the end of the net over their shoulders, turned away, and proceeded to drag me over the bumpy ground. The smell of rot and wet soil filled my nostrils as I flipped and my face came in contact with the earth. Through squinting eyes I looked up and saw the boy I’d been chasing keeping pace beside us. He grinned at me with yellow, crooked teeth. I swung to try to kick him, but only managed to flip myself over again.
“Help!” I shouted. “Help!”
The two boys pulling me stopped. They were older, maybe thirteen, and emaciated. Their ribs rose from the skin, leaving a hollow well where their bellies belonged. They both wore the same stained beige pants, shredded at the ends, and much t
oo tight. An assortment of feathers were tied in their hair.
The boy on the right wheeled back and kicked me in the side. My arms were latched above me by the net; I couldn’t even protect myself. The air whooshed out of my lungs and I gasped for breath.
“Shuddup,” he said.
They didn’t take me far. Soon I heard other voices: Rebecca’s strident order to be let go and another boy telling her not to move.
I was released in front of my old roommate, who was seated with her legs stacked on their sides in a narrow clearing between two rows of trees. Her face was tight with fury. I forced myself up, but only managed to rest on my elbows as the net had now bound my arms behind my back. A second later, someone was tossed over the top of me, and the air was once again smashed from my body.
“Sean!” Rebecca cried. He rolled off, rubbing the side of his head, where a thin trickle of blood smeared down his temple.
“Little bastards,” he grumbled. There were now three more of them. Eight, counting those who had been here with Rebecca.
Behind us, an argument was ensuing, and I rolled over to my other side to see Chase surrounded by five more wild boys, all pointing handmade spears in his direction. The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and irritation. When he saw me, his eyes darkened, and a snarl drew back his lips. He attempted to get close, but one of the boys kicked him behind the knees, and with a grunt he fell forward.
“Please tell me you still have a gun,” said Sean.
Some of the boys had gathered between us, gasping in delight and exchanging high fives. Based on Chase’s expression, the firearm had made it into the wrong hands.
A shot rang out, a deep boom that echoed off the trees. It wasn’t the sharp clap of a handgun, but something larger and more powerful, coming from the direction where we’d entered the grove—where the others in our party had stopped to rest.
I didn’t remember any of the survivors having a rifle.
Around us the boys had frozen, scarcely breathing, all facing the origin of the sound. At the second shot, they ran, their steps almost silent as if they’d taken flight.
Three (Article 5) Page 7
