The Offering

by E. R. Arroyo

  In the back of my mind I recall he was mad last night, but with his lips on me I can’t remember why. When I finally rest my hands on either side of his neck, a knock at the door becomes the bane of my existence.

  Dylan pecks me on the cheek before slinking to the door and whispering, “She just woke up. She’ll be ready soon.”

  I hear a grumble—probably Max—then Dylan eases the door closed while I sit up in bed. He pulls me to my feet while I try my best to stretch.

  “Did you pack?” I ask him, not sure what else to say. He’s not quite been himself for the last twelve hours.

  “No, not yet.”

  He hands my crutches to me and then smoothes out my hair, giving me a look that feels like goodbye. “We’re leaving soon,” I mutter, looking at my watch to verify the time.

  “You should get ready. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

  I grab his wrist before he makes it to the door. “You could still come with me….”

  He slides his wrist from my grip and grasps my fingers, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. “Karen and Nicolette need my help with the medical stuff. We’re trying to ration the meds they have left. We’ll run out soon.”

  “Right.” I peer downward, unable to keep from being disappointed.

  “I don’t want you to go either, but I realize nothing will convince you to stay.”

  “I have to do this.” I squeeze his hand, avoiding his gaze.

  “I know.” He kisses my forehead again and I savor it.

  I wash up and change into some of the clothes Karen gave me. I scarf a little food, then Dylan escorts me outside where Max and Aaron wait for me. Aaron’s young, maybe early twenties. He has light freckly skin, close-cropped brown hair, and he’s almost as big as Dylan. I hope it’s enough to convince Dylan I’ll be safe, but I doubt it.

  “Bring her back in one piece, please.”

  Max pats his shoulder. “I’ll look out for her. We both will.”

  Max cocks his head toward Aaron before Aaron gives a nod of affirmation. He gets in the driver seat of a rusty, beat up, yellow pickup truck and starts the engine.

  Chapter Three

  Mercy becomes smaller in the distance behind us and I might not ever see it again. If they’re able to transport the women, the colony will be gone by the time we return from The City. Hopefully they’ll find a way to remove or deactivate the chips.

  Growing tired of craning my neck to look back, I straighten up in the seat between Aaron and Max. I’d never be able to do this alone, so I’m thankful the two of them are coming. We never talked about how to get there, but hopefully they know a better way than the busted bridge Dylan and I nearly died trying to cross.

  I realize quickly that my position between the guys allots me no space. My leg bounces into Max but better him than Aaron, who’s more or less a stranger. After a little while, the road gets smoother and I’m able to keep myself still in the seat.

  I don’t have a headrest so I make do with leaning against the rear windshield. When my eyes close for a moment, an image of the plastic bag with Dad’s pictures flashes into my mind and I whip my head up, eyes wide on the busted road in front of us. I’m still not ready to look at them, and even if I were I wouldn’t do it in front of Max and Aaron.

  “How well did you know my father?”

  Max clears his throat, a sad smile touching his lips. “Best friend I ever had.”

  “How long did you know him?”

  Aaron makes a turn onto a larger road. On both sides of the street, lush wilderness shows no sign of destruction at all. Trees jut into the sky, seemingly miles tall against the ever-gray atmosphere. Ahead of us, old, abandoned vehicles litter the road, many of them crashed into the concrete barrier in the center.

  “About ten years I guess. Met him when he’d just lost you.” He looks down at me then, pats my knee, and looks back at the road.

  Aaron weaves through the cars and trucks carefully until the path becomes clearer, then he picks up speed on the open pavement. My vision blurs around the barely-there lines on the street.

  “What happened to him? Before you found him?” I ask Max. I’ll never forgive myself for assuming he was gone, but what could I have done at age seven? They took me away—I hadn’t wanted to leave him. It’s not like I had a choice. I look up from the lines, waiting for his answer, intently interested and knowing Max probably knows a hundred times more about my father than I do.

  “We heard the commotion, saw the savages fleeing. We snuck around to where Antius’s truck was pulling away and found him there.” Max shoots me a strange look so I try to relax my posture and look away instead of staring him down. “We fixed him up and he stayed with us. He didn’t even know Antius had showed up. He thought the savages had gotten you.”

  I suck in a breath and it stutters out, and I feel ridiculous for being upset talking about this. It was ages ago. Max lays his hand on my knee again. “Cori, we didn’t know. We would have come after you.”

  “What?” my eyes dart back over to him.

  He looks at me sympathetically. “Is that what you’re upset about? That we didn’t come for you?”

  “No, of course not.” I shake my head. I could never blame them for what happened to me. I blame Antius. Nathan. Maybe even Cornelius. I still can’t decide how I feel about him.

  “Oh,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I just… Never mind.”

  A long silence fills the cab and I realize that Aaron hasn’t said a word. He absently taps a beat on the steering wheel, feather light, so I can barely hear it.

  “What was Dad like?” I ask Max, but Aaron answers.

  “Bipolar,” he laughs, glancing sidelong at Max with a grin. He stops when Max doesn’t return the smile.

  “What’s bipolar?” I ask whichever one will answer.

  Max props his arm on the door. He rolls his eyes in Aaron’s direction before filling me in. “It’s a dumb joke. Everyone who knew him personally had a hard time reconciling who he was in public versus in private.”

  “Was there a difference?” In the short time I’d known him, I hadn’t noticed.

  A peaceful smile lights up Max’s features. “He was intense. He had such strong convictions and he was a gifted leader. It was easy to follow him. To believe in him. But in his personal life, he was kind of a tortured artist. It was only recently that he’d started to be happy again. It took him a very long time to accept that you were gone.”

  “An artist? Did he paint?”

  “Mostly sketched. He also wanted to write but wasn’t any good.”

  Why hadn’t I found pencils or sketches in his room? We fall back into a silence as I ponder what’s been said. Max doesn’t seem to be one to offer more information than is asked of him, so he simply answers my questions and leaves it at that.

  After a few hours, we take a short break then proceed a little slower as the road becomes more cluttered ahead—not only with abandoned vehicles, but also with debris from the city we’re passing. The buildings in the distance are completely leveled, and it becomes clear why it seemed so small from far off. Only the shorter buildings on the edges still stand. This must have been an impact zone. I wonder if whoever did this—whoever launched the bombs—purposefully targeted cities. I’m sure there’d be a reason for that. More damage could be done in a smaller radius because things were crammed in so close together here. Probably bigger populations too.

  Once past the city, the street gets smooth again, but not for long because Aaron pulls off onto a small road that eventually turns to gravel. The woods are sparse here, and in some places there are no trees at all. Just open fields.

  “Is it safe out here?”

  “Safe as anywhere else,” Max says. “How’s your leg?”

  “Doesn’t even hurt,” I lie, plastering on a fake grin.

  When the gravel road runs out and Aaron pulls onto a grassy lot, I get nervous. And the guys can tell.

  “Relax, kid, it’s a shortcut,” Aaron says.
“Trust me, you want to go this way.” If there were ever a nickname I hated, it’s anything related to kid.

  I bite my bottom lip to keep from saying something back. I remind myself that he’s helping me.

  “She’s not the kind of girl you want to taunt, Aaron, trust me. I’ve seen her in action.” Max gives me a reassuring smile and it helps, but I’m still uneasy about the terrain, especially since it’s practically tossing me into both their laps, back and forth. Where the heck are we going? There are zero signs any civilization ever existed in this area.

  I slide around helplessly, mostly bumping into Max, and a few times into Aaron. “Do you want to drive?” he growls. I don’t even look at him, I just roll my eyes. I pick my bag up from the floorboard and stuff it in between us as a barrier and stare at him waiting for a response. “Thank you,” he says. Insufferable.

  An hour later, the three of us are equally grumpy and we take another break. I’ve seen nothing but green fields since we left the gravel road and I could swear we were driving in circles.

  I start to get back in the truck when Max hands me my bag and my crutches. “The rest will be on foot. He’ll wait here.”

  “That’s a relief,” I mumble.

  Aaron glares at me from the other side of the truck bed, and grips the edge. “Try not to pick any fights, okay, trouble?”

  “What did you say?” I drop everything I’m holding and step towards him.

  “Easy, wouldn’t want you to pull your stitches.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, seething, trying not to jump across this truck bed and lay into him. Luckily for Aaron, Max steps between us.

  “Not another word, soldier.” Max gives me my stuff again and I lean the crutches against the truck to sling the bag onto my shoulders. He’s lucky I don’t pummel him with these crutches.

  “Soldier?” he gawks. “Last I heard this mission was unofficial.”

  “Your mother was a nice lady, son, but your father was an S.O.B., and you seem to have inherited his personality. How about you just give the girl a break? You agreed to this.”

  Max hands me the crutches, and I’m going to scream if he does it again. He’s as bad as Dylan.

  “I did but I’m doing this for you, sir, not for her.” Aaron cowers a bit and I’m actually shocked at the sudden change in his demeanor.

  “I appreciate your loyalty, son, but mine is to Anthony, and I’m gonna look out for his girl. So, you do this for me: treat this girl like she’s my own daughter. Got it?”

  Aaron kicks the tire and lets out an exaggerated sigh, not once looking back my way. “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  At least an hour or two have passed since Max and I left Aaron alone in the field to wait for us. We split up the food we brought and I’ve already had two pieces of bread. We’re completely surrounded by trees now, growing taller the farther we go. I haven’t said much and neither has Max. I like the absence of Aaron’s whiney voice, but I’ve been running through this question the whole time so I just blurt out, “Why’s the mission unofficial?”

  “It’s a long story,” Max says, his voice tight.

  “They don’t know we’re doing this do they? They told you no.” I march through the woods kind of slowly and I’m mostly just holding the crutches, not using them. My leg’s getting better. It’s a dull kind of ache now. The annoying kind.

  “They do know but I’m escorting you as a civilian, not as a commander.”

  “So they said no,” I quip, allowing myself a tiny grin.

  He clears his throat. “Yes.”

  “And Aaron, what’s his problem? What’d I do to tick him off?” Not that I’m surprised—ticking people off seems to be a talent of mine.

  Max pauses ahead of me and props one hand on his hip and another on a tree. He wipes a light sheen of sweat from his forehead then gestures in the air. “He’ll grow on you.”

  That’s it? That’s the explanation?

  “Do you need a break? We’re almost to the cabin,” he says.

  “I’m fine.”

  When the sunlight starts to disappear, I wonder how much farther we can get today. Not twenty minutes later there’s a break in the woods with a house in the center. It’s small, only one story high, probably only twenty feet long and wide. The exterior is made of wood cut into beams laying horizontally atop one another and tilted across the angled roof. And not the processed kind of wood, but actual trees.

  Max lets us in through the back door. He pulls his gun—there’s the Max I know and love—and sweeps the house.

  I sit down on an old wooden chair, desperate to rest my leg, hopefully without letting it show that I’ve been in pain for at least the past hour. Catching my breath, I soak in the tiny cabin. The surfaces inside are all wooden too like the outside. The space is all one room and everything is covered in dust. But not as much as I’d expect from twenty years of build up, so I’d guess this place has been frequented over the years.

  Max kneels in the kitchen area, propping his hand on a black metal stove with an open pit in the middle. He slams his fist into one of the floorboards and catches the other end when it pops up. Without even looking, he reaches in and pulls out supplies. Sealed water, a pot, a spoon, and a few other things. He takes the pot over to the furnace where he starts a fire and proceeds to boil the water.

  “How did you know about this place?”

  “We stay here on our way to trade with The City. Don’t worry, we’re safe here.”

  “Just curious.” And worried.

  Next he knocks the dust off some blankets from the corner and makes a pallet. Pointing to the mattress across the room he mutters, “You take the bed.”

  I excuse myself to get ready for bed outside and it turns into a short walk. I can still see the small glow of the furnace through the window so I don’t get lost in the darkness as I move from rock to rock, taking my time to make sure my leg is steady. I glance up at the lush canopy above, watching the leaves dance ever so subtly in the slight breeze. My hand grazes across tree trunks, feeling the rough texture as I lean on them for support.

  Weaving in and out of trees, and very much enjoying tonight’s cool air and the earthy scents that tickle my nose, I don’t want to go in just yet. Inhaling deeply, I recall my first encounter with the woods with Dylan. A small smile touches my lips as I think of him.

  “Cori,” Max calls out.

  “I’m here,” I shout before making my way out of the wooded forest and back inside.

  Max locks up after his own turn outside. “The water’s still warm if you want to use a little for your face.”

  “Sure, thank you.” I hold my hands over the sink and Max pours warm water into my cupped palms and I lean forward to rub my face with it. Max hands me a scrap of material to dry off before rinsing his own face. It’s no shower, but it’s better than nothing.

  “You look like him, you know,” he whispers, climbing into his pallet.

  I know. “Thanks for letting me have the mattress.”

  “Sure,” he whispers.

  A night without crying is a success to me, regardless of how much I did or did not sleep. So a successful night it was. I actually wake up before Max and go outside for a little while. The ground is still moist with dew and it’s soothing on my skin. Sprawled out on the grass, I run my fingers over the blades one last time before dragging myself to my feet.

  I fill my lungs with earthy scents before going back inside. We drink plenty of the water Max boiled for us and most of the time we don’t talk, but it’s not awkward. It’s a comfortable silence between us. Max won’t let me help restore the cabin to its condition before we arrived. I wait for him outside, leaning against a giant tree. Not long after, we’re on our way. My leg seems to be doing better, less achy while we move.

  “How much farther?”

  “Should be there by sundown. Can you make it?” He suddenly turns toward me, all concerned.

  I wave him off. “I’m fine. Just wondering.”

>   He starts hiking again. “Sorry, you probably just want some conversation. I’m not much of a talker.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” I actually like that about him.

  He adjusts the straps on his backpack probably a hundred times over the next hour until he finally stops for a break and we share a few sips of water from his canteen. Taking a deep breath, he rubs his hands over his face, drawing my eyes back to the scar on his forehead. I do a good job of not staring at it most of the time, but I’m curious.

  “Are you okay?” I ask softly. “You seem—”

  “I’m fine.” He grins at me. Touché.

  “How’d you get that?” I nod toward his head.

  He mindlessly runs his fingers over the scar, tracing it from his hairline to where it ends at his brow. “Nothing nearly as cool as getting shot,” he laughs, looking at my leg. “I got mine the same way your dad got his scars.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize. It doesn’t bother you to go to The City?” I pick up my bag to start moving again, following his lead.

  “They’re not what they used to be, the savages. It wasn’t their fault. I don’t hold it against them.” Max’s foot splashes in water and I look down, surprised to find that we’ve come upon a stream. He doesn’t stop, so neither do I. Not long after, we come to another stream that’s even bigger.

  “Let’s find a good place to cross. It’s too deep here,” Max says.

  Max turns downstream and I climb over a fallen tree to keep up. Crashing into his back, I lose my balance and my grip of the crutches. I start to get up when Max hisses, “Don’t move.”

  I freeze and look everywhere trying to figure out what stopped him. Not even three yards ahead, a long, black snake with a wonky, bulbous head slithers down a tree and slinks onto the ground. It wraps itself in a spiral, not taking its eyes off us. Max inches his fingers for his blade which thankfully is bigger than mine.