“I told you before. That’s not my thing.”
“Why not? Are you not physically attracted to women?”
“I am physically attracted to women. I’m just not physically attracted to raping women. The idea doesn’t do anything for me. I want a woman to want me to touch her, before I do.”
I furrowed my brows, staring at his back as he kept moving. “Most men I’ve met find rape plenty attractive.”
He stopped in his tracks, turning to face me; I stumbled into him, momentarily feeling the heat of his chest through his shirt before taking a step back, looking up into his face.
“I’m sorry, Candace.”
“It’s fine. Why are you stopping?”
He reached his hand forward, as if to touch my face, and then dropped it again. He looked up at the trees. “I’m sorry that’s happened to you,” he said.
I was taken aback. Why was he apologizing about that? It was just one of those things. It happened all the time, and he had nothing to do with it.
“I . . . Well, that’s just how it is.” I shrugged. “It’s obviously abnormal for that not to happen. That’s why I was asking why you hadn’t.”
“I would never force myself like that on anyone.” There was disgust on his face. “People choose to be together. They should never be forced into something.”
Chapter 8
“That’s a great ideal, but that’s not typically how it works.”
“Anymore. That’s not how it works anymore. What about your parents?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I have no idea how that part of their relationship worked, and I would prefer not to think about it.”
“When two people really love each other, the way people are supposed to love each other, they never force one another to do anything. They make decisions together. It’s a partnership. That’s how a relationship should work.”
“Have you had that before?”
“No. I’ve just had a lot of time to think about it.”
“Have you ever been in any relationship before?” Curiosity was getting the better of me. I thought Gideon would tease me for it, but he was looking down at the ground now, his face closed to me, empty of emotion. “Er, sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just keep walking.” I started forward, passing him.
“No. Candace?” He grabbed my arm just long enough to bring me to a halt, then he dropped it again; both of his arms hung at his sides. He still wasn’t looking at me; he ran a hand through his hair, causing his curls to stand on end. “I haven’t ever been in a real relationship before – not someone who I loved, who was my equal. I . . .
“When my parents died, I struggled to survive on my own. I was too young, too small, to really do anything, including use a proper gun, though I did keep a knife. This.” Half his mouth turned up in a slight smile as he took out the knife he still had. “My dad’s. But it wasn’t much in the way of hunting or protecting myself. I couldn’t venture off on my own too much because there was a risk that a large predator – like that lion - ” he tilted his head back in the direction of the carnival, “might attack me. I couldn’t protect myself against it with just a knife. Not at my size. So I stuck around groups of people. This worked out okay, because predators didn’t go near larger groups. However, I didn’t get fed much. I couldn’t protect myself, and I knew I’d get killed immediately if I tried to take food someone else had their eye on. I survived, but just barely.
“Then a man came along. He took an interest in me, was nice to me. He always made sure I got fed. I stuck close to him because he was the one who protected me from the others. Then, one day, he came to me and told me he was leaving.”
“Leaving the group of people you were with,” I clarified.
“Yes. I almost cried, right there in front of him, when he told me that. Then, he asked me if I wanted to come with him. I didn’t have to think about the answer; it was yes, a definitive yes.
“We left the next morning. His protective role in my life continued. He fed me. He looked out for me. He never expected anything of me. At least, not for a while.”
Gideon shuffled from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at me.
I thought through what he was saying. He wasn’t giving many details, just an overview. It was more than I’d ever expected him to tell me about his past. I was only just starting not to hate him – sometimes I even liked him – and yet he was sharing a part of himself with me.
“He hurt you, didn’t he?” I whispered, studying the freckles on Gideon’s nose.
His face twisted. “He didn’t care for raping girls, either. He had other preferences.” His voice was bitter. “I could have ran away after that first time, but I didn’t know where I could go. The world was so scary to me. I was small, and this man fed me. He protected me. At least, he protected me from everyone but himself.”
My gut clenched. My throat closed. I had never expected to feel any sort of compassion for Gideon, but this . . . this forced me to. How can you hate someone who was once a victim himself? You couldn’t. Any villain could quickly become someone understandable, someone you could feel actual sympathy for.
Gideon hadn’t ever been a true villain – only in those first few hours that I knew him. After that, I’d despised him with a hatred so powerful that I plotted his death with every breath I took. Then, as I’d helped him recover from his gun injuries, I had come to the point where I simply disliked him – not because he wasn’t enjoyable to be around, but because his presence meant my parents’ murderer was at large.
But, after all the time we’d spent together, after all the conversations we’d shared, after realizing I liked being around him, and after hearing about his victimization now, how could I dislike him at all? He was just a boy, fighting to survive against the world as best he could.
I didn’t forgive him. But the dislike had vanished.
“When I was around sixteen, I hit a growth spurt; the extra height and strength made me confident that I could survive on my own,” he said. “When he was asleep, I stole his gun and took off. I never looked back, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Did you consider. . .” I hesitated. “Did you consider killing him?”
Gideon finally met my eyes, then gave me a little smile. “No. How could I? He had kept me alive all those years. I might have hated him, but I still owed him my life.”
“And you’ve been traveling alone ever since then?”
He straightened, clearing his throat and grinning at me mockingly, banishing all the seriousness of the conversation we’d just had. “Until a skinny teenager bent on my death showed up and decided to follow me to the ends of the earth.”
“The earth has no ends,” I retorted.
He walked past me, moving forward once more. “The borders of the United States, then.”
“Who’s to say I wouldn’t follow you if you passed those borders?”
“I guess we’ll see if I ever decide to do just that.”
I studied the gap in his shoulder blades as he walked. He had gone through so much to get to the perspective he now held. How could he picture the world for the life that inhabited it? How could he feel the sort of peace he felt when he focused on the nature around him? How could he just let go of his past and focus on living? How could he focus on taking one step after the other, and find contentment in that?
He might have once been a broken boy who escaped an abused life, but he wasn’t that boy anymore. He was a strong, confident man who had learned how to live in a way that gave him appreciation for the broken world around him.
And I could see that as he turned and grinned at me, his dark brown eyes sparkling as they met mine, all traces of our previous conversation gone from his features. My heart stuttered, and my stomach filled with butterflies; I stopped in my tracks, even as he turned to face forward again and kept walking.
Was he actually attractive? How had I never noticed that before? Was it just because I had been so blinded by hate and anger?
He stopped walking, turning to look at me inquiringly. “Something wrong, darling?”
Butterflies again. My face was either pale white or deep red – I couldn’t be sure which.
“N-no,” I stuttered, forcing myself forward once more, toward him. I was trying to kick my brain back into gear, but wasn’t sure I was succeeding. “My leg fell asleep while you were doing all that talking, so I had to take a minute and get the blood flowing again.”
He continued walking, and I followed. “Ah. Sorry about that. I didn’t realize your legs we’re so sensitive.”
“They’re not.”
“Good to hear it, darling. Now, how about some birds for lunch?” He pulled out his gun and pointed it toward a few bluebirds flying away.
I grinned, following his lead with my own weapon. “Sounds perfect.”
~ * ~
We camped under the trees again, resting on opposite sides of the fire. I listened to the crackling flames as I fell asleep. The chirping of birds woke me in the morning; I groggily rolled onto my back, blinking in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. I laid there for a while, my right hand resting on my left wrist, tracing the beads of the bracelet I still wore.
Mornings were always slow; Gideon and I each took our time getting up, since there was nowhere in particular we were heading – especially during the time he was healing. Besides that, he still couldn’t walk very far each day. There was no hurry; I could take my time waking up.
And I had, ever since I stopped fearing he’d disappear. Somehow, he’d never bothered shaking me off. Now, he probably wouldn’t ever bother, considering I’d chosen not to kill him.
Unless he got tired of me – there was always that possibility. But, after the personal nature of what he’d told me yesterday, I doubted that would be any time soon.
Still lying on my back, I turned my head toward Gideon’s tree.
He wasn’t there.
I blinked, looking around for his backpack – any sign of him. All I could see was the pile of bird bones from yesterday.
I sat up, beginning to look around our little campsite. When I still couldn’t see him, my heart began to hammer.
He did leave me, right when I thought he wouldn’t. I couldn’t believe it. What was I going to do without him? Where was I going to go? Why would he leave me? Why now? I didn’t think. . .
I stood, looking around frantically. Maybe if I could just catch up to him. Then, I would simply make sure he never left without me again. I’d just keep following him until I figured out something else.
That sounded pathetic. Did I really want to follow him around, even when he didn’t want my company?
I thought he liked my company. That’s the only reason he hadn’t killed me for so long.
“Gideon!” I shouted, my voice panicked as I randomly picked a direction and started running. I hadn’t ever been any good at tracking, but there might be a small chance that I could find him.
I tripped, landing hard on my knees.
“Candace?”
I looked up to find Gideon at my side. He placed his hands around my elbows and pulled me to my feet.
“What’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?”
“Where’d you go?” I demanded, my voice coming out as a squeak.
“I could smell water. There’s a stream nearby, and I wanted to locate it and wash up while you were still asleep. It’s been a really long time since I was clean.” I noted that his face was, indeed, clean. He was still holding my elbows, as if to help me stay upright.
I yanked away from him. “You could have waited till I woke up – I would have given you some privacy.”
“Why are you angry about it? I thought you’d be happy to hear I’d found water when you woke up; you were very deeply asleep when I left.”
I huffed, looking away. “I thought you’d left,” I muttered.
A few seconds lapsed.
“Well, I hadn’t. Do you want to come see the stream?”
I paused, not wanting to gratify him after embarrassing myself with my panic. However, I did want to see the stream. “Yes,” I admitted.
His mouth twitched. “Good. Do you need help walking?”
He was mocking me. I probably deserved it, too, for jumping to such rash conclusions.
“I think I can manage,” I replied.
He turned, and I followed him.
As we neared the stream, I could hear the babble of water against rocks. Then, I could see the sunlight glinting on the water. We hadn’t been desperate for water since we’d left our last stream behind, thanks to the rainwater we had managed to collect regularly, but the fresh, flowing water now before me looked very inviting.
I maneuvered past Gideon, since his limp made him slow, and went straight to the water’s edge, using my hands to scoop the liquid into my mouth.
“Thirsty, aren’t we?” Gideon commented, smirking as he came to sit down beside me.
After a few more gulps, I sat back and looked at him. “How can you smell water?”
“You know how we practice focusing on our environment in order to find peace?”
“Yes.”
“After you do that for a while, you start to notice more than the smells and sounds closest to you; you begin picking up on others that aren’t quite as close. This stream really isn’t that far from where we camped.”
“Huh.”
“You know, it’s going to start getting cold soon.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Considering the state of our clothes - ” He indicated our torn shirts, the sleeves having been used as bandages. “- I’d say we have two options. One, travel south, and, two, go shopping.”
“Are you asking me which sounds better?”
“Well, the first option’s a little more complicated. We’re pretty far north right now, and it’ll take us at least a month to walk anywhere significantly warmer – warmer to the point where we don’t need more clothing. I’m not going to manage walking very fast, either.
“So option two isn’t really an option – we’ll have to do it either way, at least while we’re walking to our significantly warmer destination. What I’m really asking you is if you want to stay here this winter, or go somewhere else. I personally hate sleeping outside in the snow, and, as you might have already realized, I don’t like joining groups of people, so I try to avoid sleeping indoors; when you do, it’s very likely you’ll get others wanting to share the same roof as you.”
“You want to go south.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re asking me what I want?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter? You could go south either way.”
Gideon rolled his eyes. “Candace, we both know you’re a little more reliant on my presence than is strictly healthy, considering your history of constantly savoring the thought of killing me.”
I stiffened, not really wanting to admit the obvious.
“Look, I’m not going anywhere you don’t want to go. That’s all I’m saying.”
I chewed on my lip.
“Are you attached to Oregon at all?”
“No. I guess not. I’m originally from Virginia, but I have liked it here.”
“Well, I’m originally from Wisconsin, and I hate the cold. I’ve traveled south every year since I went off on my own, and I quite like it.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go south.”
He smiled at me. “Great. What do you want to do about clothes?”
“Er, get some?”
“I thought we’d start right off heading south, and stop at any shopping malls we find along the way. With that method, if the first few malls don’t have anything useful, we still have some time before it becomes an issue.”
“Is it difficult to find good clothing?”
Gideon gave me a look. “Generally, yes.”
I looked down. “My parents usuall
y happened to procure them through a trade. We didn’t spend time looking for clothes; we spent time looking for more valuable items. Like the medicine.” I patted the strap of my backpack that rested on my shoulder.
“That’s smart. But it involves interacting with other people, so I prefer finding my essentials on my own. Of course, it’s a little harder to find clothing because everyone needs it. The good stuff is usually gone. And then there’s the rare situations where I’m in need of something a little less common. Like the medicine.” He lightly patted my backpack, mimicking my motion. “It’s no wonder your parents decided to target that sort of thing. Very useful.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. His patting my backpack had made me realize just how close he was sitting to me – only about a foot between us – and it was a little disconcerting. I wanted to scoot away, but he was sure to notice. Besides, he was obviously aware of our proximity, and he felt perfectly comfortable with it. I should probably just let it go.
“One time, a teenager tried to kill me. She got close enough to leave a cut on my arm.” He held his arm out and showed me the cut I’d given him over a month ago. It was a healed, thin red line now; it had never been that deep. “She didn’t know it, but that cut got infected. A few more weeks and I would have been dead, just as she wanted. However, an interesting change of circumstances gave me the opportunity to survive: I was attacked by another group of people who were probably in need of something they thought I had. The girl who wanted me dead? She saved me. She did it because she wanted to kill me, and didn’t want anyone else to take that from her. So, she killed my attackers, and then patched me up. Then, she gave me medicine that would stop any infection I might have – the exact medicine I needed to stop the infection she’d already given me. The infection that would have killed me.
“Useful stuff, medicine.” He gave me a warm smile.
I gaped at him. “You’re telling me that I’d already succeeded at killing you, only to interfere by trying to save your death for myself?”
“Not only that, but it would have been a nice, slow death. I would have suffered, and you would have gotten to watch.”
Humanity Page 8
