Humanity

by J. D. Knutson

  I shrugged ruefully. “It just happened. You’re impossible not to love.”

  A smile traced his features. “This might not make much logical sense, but I started loving you almost right away. It was because you were alone, you were broken, and I could tell you were grasping at straws in order not to lose yourself to your grief. It was a natural instinct for me to reach out to you, to want to take care of you. You needed someone and, even though you hated me, I wanted to be that someone. That very first day, I didn’t want to send you off, even though you were intent on killing me. I knew you needed something, even if you thought it was my death, and I didn’t want to take that away. I’d always hoped enough time would help you realize the answer wasn’t my death, but something else.

  “Eventually, I wanted to be that something you needed. Then, after a little longer, I simply wanted you.”

  I blushed under his gaze, looking down.

  He kept talking. “I started falling for you well before you decided not to kill me. I had to constantly remind myself that you hated me. Though, after a while, that seemed less and less true. You were a lost, desperate orphan, and I was the only one you could reach out to. It was inevitable that you’d become reliant on my presence. You weren’t going to kill me. This was especially clear to me when we were at the carnival.”

  “Because of the broken glass,” I replied, rueful again.

  “Not only that, but the maze of mirrors.” When I thought he’d disappeared. “It hadn’t even occurred to you to break through the mirrors to get to me, and it didn’t occur to you to simply not enter the maze, to walk around and meet me on the other size. Your rationality was choked out by the fear of me abandoning you.

  “It was impossible for me to think you could kill me after that – you would completely fall apart if I wasn’t there with you. I’d become your life’s focus – even if that focus was initially on my death, it became simply the idea of me, and then it became me.

  “You don’t have to tell me why you fell in love with me; I watched it happen.”

  It felt like he had just laid bare my soul, even though it was him who was confessing. In some ways, I felt angry – angry that he had seen right through me, angry that I had been so easy to read. In other ways, it made me feel safe all over again. Gideon had always been there for me, ready to support me in any way I’d allow him. He understood me.

  He kissed my ear, then my cheek, then my eyelid. He wrapped his arms around me and I let him hold me for the longest time.

  We didn’t say much more that day; we just walked, and kissed. As the sun was setting I remembered a part of my physical body that had been forgotten in the kisses and butterflies: my stomach. It growled so loudly that Gideon’s head snapped around to look at me.

  “Food,” he murmured, eyes wide.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Have you ever forgotten about food before?” I asked.

  “Not in a long time. And the weather scared off the wildlife, so there hasn’t been anything to remind me. And I’ve been pretty distracted.” He leaned in to kiss me again, then frowned, looking around. “There should be some wildlife coming out around now, since the sun’s going down. The only reason for there not to be is if another storm’s coming.”

  “Is another storm coming?”

  “I doubt it. There’s absolutely no clouds to create one. I think if we just walk silently for a while, something will come up.”

  So we didn’t talk. Eventually, a rabbit crossed our path. Gideon shot it on sight, and then we found a place to camp.

  “Your leg seems to be doing well,” I noted as we ate. “You seem to hardly be limping. And we walked all day.”

  Gideon scowled. “We took a lot of breaks – a lot of breaks – and I feel a little less weighed down than usual, too.” He nudged my leg with his knee.

  I wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t just getting better, but I didn’t say anything else about it. After we’d finished eating and had cleaned up, we laid down beside the fire; I curled up in his arms.

  “This won’t be ending ever, correct?” Gideon asked, tightening his hold.

  “Never,” I affirmed. “Though . . . er, we might have to do something about that shirt.”

  “What’s wrong with my shirt?” he asked, though it sounded like he knew what I meant.

  I reddened, but he wouldn’t have been able to tell in the dark. “It’s a little thick. I miss feeling . . . more of you.”

  He shifted around. “Agreed. I will put it on my to-do list: get a thinner shirt. As an alternative, lose my shirt altogether.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” I cautioned.

  “No worries; I understand what you mean, though. I miss having less layers, too.”

  He leaned in, and we did more kissing.

  ~ * ~

  Several days later, I awoke to find an amazingly warm sun on my face. It was as if all traces of winter had disappeared. I didn’t know for sure, since it was Gideon who had the map in his head, but we must have been getting close to our destination.

  “An orange grove?” I asked later that day as we walked.

  “Yes. We don’t have to spend the entire winter there, of course – there’s a lot of south U.S. territory we can explore – but I thought you’d enjoy staying in one place for a while.”

  “It’ll be weird,” I said wistfully.

  “And there should be a healthy supply of oranges that we can supplement with hunting trips – I’m sure wildlife will have overtaken the grove quite well by this point. They’d already started to last time I was there.”

  “What will we do after that?”

  “Head east? Stay put all winter? Jump the Mexican border? Whatever you’d like.”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve other people, right?”

  “Preferably. But, you know what? I’d do anything to make you happy. Even if people were involved, I might just say yes anyway.”

  I smiled up at him. “I’ll still try to keep your preference in mind if I decide I want to go somewhere.”

  “Do you have anywhere in mind?”

  “No, but I’ll tell you when I do.”

  “Good. Let’s be quiet for a moment – I thought I heard something over there.” He gestured to our left, stepping in front of me as he took his gun out.

  I assumed he meant an animal, but we couldn’t be too sure. An animal might mean lunch; anyone else might mean trouble.

  We waited; a bush rustled from several yards away. Gideon moved toward it, and I carefully followed behind, gun ready just in case Gideon needed backup.

  Something moved from behind the bush, then a bobcat with deep brown eyes emerged, skulking forward as if he were the one hunting us.

  I saw Gideon’s hesitation as he looked into the animal’s eyes, seeing its instinctive desire to kill us. The bobcat was doing what he needed to do. But Gideon had needs, too.

  He shot the cat directly in the throat, thanks to its close proximity; the cat dropped to the ground, lifeless.

  Gideon walked forward, frowning down at the body. “I hate it when I can see their eyes,” he muttered.

  I took his hand, then lifted mine to touch his shoulder comfortingly.

  Without warning, Gideon shoved me over the cat and into the bushes; gunfire began almost simultaneously, directed right at us.

  “Run,” he told me, pushing me along. The gunfire continued.

  Then Gideon let out a cry of pain.

  Chapter 15

  No, no, no, no, no! “Gideon!”

  “Keep going! I’m right behind you!” I did what he said, relieved that he was still moving; I noted the way he fired back over his shoulder.

  Eventually, the bullets stopped. Gideon crashed down against a tree, breathing heavily.

  My hands were on his face, on his chest, looking at his clothing, searching for blood, searching for holes. “Where are you hurt? Where?” I demanded, not impressing myself with my panicked tone.

  “I’m fine, Candace.”


  “Tell me! The faster we get to it, the faster - ”

  He grabbed my wrists, pushing them away from him and staring at me until I frantically met his eyes. “I’m fine, Candace. I’m not shot.”

  “What? Then why did you cry out back there? You were hurt!”

  “I twisted my ankle; it was my injured leg, and still hurts, but I’m not dying.” He watched my face as I slowly digested this, then he smiled. “It makes me happy to see you so worried about me.”

  I finally relaxed, then forcefully pulled my wrists out of his hands. “You are so infuriating,” I told him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Because I’m not dying?”

  “I just. . .” I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “I was really worried, that’s all. It wasn’t meant for you to enjoy.”

  “I didn’t mean to mislead you about my state of health. I’m sorry.”

  I sighed, looking up at the sky. “I guess this means no lunch.”

  He shrugged. “Whoever that was must have needed it more than us.”

  “I hope so, because I’m starving.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think I can walk much at the moment.”

  “What if I carry you?” I suggested.

  He smiled. “How about we just rest for a while?”

  “What if the shooter comes back this way?”

  “They’ll be busy with the bobcat for now; we’ll worry about them in a bit.”

  I settled beside him, and his arm snaked around me; he rested his nose against my cheek. Soon, the smell of cooking meat began to reach us.

  I groaned. “I bet they won’t expect another attack from us now.”

  “How about let’s not risk that.”

  “Is your ankle better yet?

  “Are you desperate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it is, but not enough to hunt. Just enough to get away from the smell.”

  “I’ll settle for that for now.”

  We walked a quarter of a mile before crashing again. I settled back under his arm.

  “What is it like, having company like me after so many years alone?” I asked him.

  “It’s both strange and wonderful. At the beginning, it was really weird to be spending so much time talking.”

  “We didn’t talk that much.”

  “It was way more than I was used to. I had been alone for years, with only sparse encounters with other humans, and then there you were wanting to play “I spy” and “Twenty Questions.”

  “Do you ever think about whether you only fell in love with me because I was the first chance you’d ever had to fall in love?”

  “Undoubtedly; it doesn’t make me loving you any less true, though.”

  “Well, what if another pretty girl came along?”

  “In what situation would this happen?”

  I thought about it. “She stumbles into our camp with a broken ankle; you want to take care of her, and then she tries to seduce you.”

  “Wouldn’t work. I’m blind.”

  I scowled. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am. I’m blinded to anyone but you. You’re the only pretty girl I’m ever going to see.”

  “Wow, how did I fall for anyone so cheesy?”

  “Please, let’s not talk about cheese.” He rubbed his stomach.

  I grinned. “Sorry.”

  ~ * ~

  “How much further till we get to the grove?” I asked, shielding my eyes against the sun as I surveyed the land in front of us. It had been a week since the bobcat incident, and we’d only had successful kills three times, with only a few edible plant encounters to help this along. We weren’t in the forest anymore, and had been traveling southeast, assumedly parallel to interstate 5. We could usually see buildings close by, but never ventured near them.

  Gideon frowned at my question. “Actually, I think we should have hit it by now. I’d been wondering for a few days, but now I’m feeling more certain that we missed it.”

  “How’d we miss it?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Candace, I know my mental map is mostly reliable, but it’s been years since I’ve been here.”

  I guess I’d started thinking his ability to direct us places was infallible, but he was human after all. “Maybe we should get directions,” I suggested.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “From whom?” We were alone, though I did hear a few birds chirp as they flew above our heads, too out-of-sight to try and shoot.

  “We need to get to a main road,” I said. “What way would that be?”

  “I hardly would trust my judgment, since I caused us to miss our destination, but I’d hazard a guess at that way.” He pointed due west.

  His guess was logical, considering the grid of freeways the U.S. government had designed. I nodded. “Agreed.” We turned that direction, feeling our way out of the trees.

  It was another hour before we met the road.

  “I think we should go north now,” I suggested. “Since we’ve already missed the grove, we don’t want to end up getting further away while looking for someone who knows what we’re talking about. And maybe that way we’ll come across it before actually needing to ask about it.”

  “Very optimistic,” Gideon pronounced. “Let’s do that.”

  “You don’t think we’ll happen across it?” I asked as we turned north and began walking along the road.

  “I doubt it; it was off a rougher road than this – all gravel, and nowhere near a freeway.”

  “Well, I guess that won’t happen. But we still won’t get any further away than we already are, correct?”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  We camped beside the road that night. The next day, in the late hours of the morning, we came to an exit sign, directing nonexistent traffic to a ramp.

  I stopped, looking up the ramp and craning my neck so I could see as far as possible.

  “You think we should take this exit?” Gideon asked, noting my craned neck.

  “Can you see anything that suggests people are here? A collection of buildings, or anything?” He was taller than me, so his line of vision stretched just a little further.

  “Yes, there are a group of houses at the far end of that road.” He pointed, frowning.

  I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the ramp. “Let’s go there. Houses suggest the potential for people to gather.”

  “So they can start a garden? Why would they do that if there’s an orange grove nearby? If there’s anyone in one of those houses, then they probably don’t know about the oranges.”

  “Some people don’t like sleeping on dirt all the time; they like a roof over their head. Besides, I don’t think anyone would choose to only live off oranges for an entire winter if they could help it.”

  “Do you want a roof over your head?” Gideon asked.

  “It’s not important to me, but I do like feeling clean; that doesn’t happen much out here.”

  He frowned some more, probably thinking about whether he really wanted to go near other humans just for the sake of an orange grove.

  “Come on. We won’t be there for long.”

  “Fine,” he relented, moving forward and allowing me to drag him along. “Just a short visit.” His last words sounded almost as if he were comforting himself.

  “Yes. Just a short visit.” We walked up the ramp, then along the road. I could tell the neighborhood had once been a nice one, but now the trees had overgrown their beds, and the flowers had been choked out with weeds. The paint on the houses was chipped, and many of their fences were falling apart.

  I eyed each of the houses, looking for one that seemed occupied. It was abnormal for people to inhabit a building long-term without others as a part of their group; they wouldn’t be able to defend their territory without a large number. Because of this, the most likely scenario in which we found someone would involve sentinels at the entrance.

  We turned a corner, and there they were. I gripped Gideon’s hand in excit
ement, though I could feel his tension. As the guards caught sight of us, they straightened and raised their guns. I placed my gun in my pocket and held up my hands; Gideon didn’t put his own weapon down.

  “We need directions,” I called to them, drawing closer with Gideon at my back.

  “Your friend either puts his gun down or stays back,” one called back to me.

  I looked at Gideon questioningly; he nodded at me and stopped walking, though he kept his gun flickering between the two men.

  The way the men looked at me was the way men had always looked at me: like I was a meal they wouldn’t mind consuming. Though these men seemed more weary of checking me out too closely. Why was that? Was I different than before? It couldn’t be because of Gideon, because I had almost always had a protector with me before – and men had looked at me even in my father’s presence.

  Or maybe it was Gideon.

  I glanced back at him before continuing towards the guards. Gideon was much larger than my father ever was, and the way he was watching me now seemed more possessive than the way my father had watched me in the past. I was his, and not in a father-daughter sort of way.

  I met the guards. “We’re looking for an orange grove that should be close to here. Do either of you know where that might be?”

  The shorter man scratched his scruffy jaw. “Yeah. If you get back on I-5 and walk two more exits north, you’ll be close; take that exit, then turn left. Keep walking till you hit the trees, and you’ll be there.”

  I grinned. “Thank you.”

  “Careful, though,” the taller one inserted. “Most of our group here doesn’t like going there on account of the bear problem.”

  “Bear problem?”

  “Yeah. They like the trees.”

  “Are there more bears there than in the other trees around here, though?”

  The man shrugged. “Dunno. Just telling you what I heard.”

  “Well, thanks.” I nodded at each of them in turn, ignoring the way their eyes followed me.

  I turned to face Gideon, but his eyes were no longer watching the guards. They were raised upward, focused on a window on the second floor of the house. I walked to him, and he never stopped looking at that window. I turned and looked, too.