by E. R. Arroyo
“Stop,” he commands me in a loud, forceful whisper. It’s Dylan. I really am an idiot.
I turn toward him and slam my hand against his chest. “Let me go.”
“What’s gotten into you?” he says, still in a soft voice.
My cheeks burn up with blush. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I was trying not to get caught.” At least he’s himself now.
“I saw the clothes beside you. I thought you were one of them.” I glare at his hands still wrapped around my wrists.
He releases me and I exhale.
“I’m sorry I frightened you. I was afraid to call out; I don’t think they’re very far away.” He looks around suspiciously over his shoulders.
“Right.”
“Let’s get back to the pond. I need those clothes.” My eyes drop to his torso. It’s much more glorious in daylight. I don’t smile, but he does, just a little.
I roll my eyes and start marching back toward the pond. He follows closely with his hand in the middle of my back as if to guide me. I walk a little faster to break the contact, and he makes some kind of noise I can’t identify.
When we get back to the pond, I kneel by the pile of clothes. Before I can ask, he speaks up. “I got them off the body.”
“What?” I look up at him. “What body?”
“One of them died. Some kind of insect bites. They’re all over his face and neck.” I feel the color drain from my face, and lift a hand to my cheek. The bite wound is still swollen. That could have been me.
Dylan picks up a white t-shirt and slides it over his shoulders. Once it’s over his head, he tugs it by the hem over his abdomen. He inspects the pants, but seems to decide against them. He picks up the man’s jacket and walks toward me.
“Here.” He extends the coat. “Put this on.”
“I’m fine. If you need it--”
“Just put it on, Cori. Please.”
Slowly, I take it from him and fold it over my arm. I’ll put it on if I get cold. Right now, I’m burning hot. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, though.
He rolls his eyes.
“Where’s the...the body?” I ask, whispering extra softly over the word body.
He glances over his shoulder at a pile of broken sticks that seem to be stacked over something large. I nod, and look at the ground.
“I’m assuming you have a plan.”
“Um.” I don’t want to tell him I didn’t think it through, but my plan is laughable. “Walk toward the sun in the morning, away from it in the afternoon. Rest at night.”
“And do you have any idea where that will take us?”
“Away,” I say, knowing that Antius is in the other direction.
I fully expect him to protest what he probably thinks is a ridiculous excuse for a plan. He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
Chapter Twelve
Since it was getting dark, we decided to spend one more night in the tree. We drank plenty of water, which hadn’t seemed to have any ill effect on us. I’m not sure about him, but my stomach growls with hunger.
Dylan is settled in, stretched out in the cavity of the tree that’s been our home for the last two days. I, however, curl up near the opening. He tried to argue, but I told him I needed fresh air.
I can’t sleep, and I don’t think Dylan can, either. We haven’t spoken much today, though I’m not sure why. I feel angry even though I don’t have a reason.
“There’s room for you to stretch out.”
I take a short breath. “We should probably still whisper, just in case.”
I wad up the jacket and lay my head on it. Someone died in this jacket, I think. What a morbid thought. I tell myself it’s better that he’s gone because it’s one less person hunting me, but I can’t help but be affected by it. Life is a fragile thing.
“Do you...remember anything?”
“Remember what?” he asks.
“You know, yesterday. This morning...”
He takes forever to answer. “I remember getting that thing off of you. Then,” he takes a breath and shifts his weight. “Waking up this afternoon and finding water. Stumbling over a dead body.”
“Oh.” I dig my fingernail into the wood absently. That’s good.
He shifts his weight again, and somehow I can tell he’s looking at me. I always can.
“What’s on your mind, Cori?” he asks softly, but there’s something heavy underneath.
“You just...weren’t doing so well is all. You could have died. I was really worried.” There. That’s vulnerable enough. It’ll have to be.
“Is that all?” he asks. I’m banking on him not remembering his little episode earlier. It’s better this way.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Okay. I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for bringing me water.”
“You’re welcome.”
Morning comes faster than I expect. I guess I was able to sleep after all. I stand out in the open, stretching my stiff limbs and trying to ignore my headache.
“I found something I think we can eat,” Dylan says from the other side of some bushes. He walks around with a handful of small, brown, circular things. He squeezes one until it bursts and a reddish liquid drips down his thumb. He sniffs it. Pops one in his mouth.
“Dylan, wait,” I hiss too late. He swallows it and we just stare at each other for a moment.
“Not bad,” he mumbles, tossing another in his mouth.
“We might as well die together.” I take a few and toss them back; they taste bitter and earthy.
We eat the rest while walking toward the sun, away from the other group. That’s not to say their direction won’t change, so we still need to be on guard.
After a few hours of walking, we come to a clearing. There’s a large field, and on the other side are more trees. We stop and crouch, looking out into the clearing. I scan the tree line across from us, squinting to make out any potential threats there, but it’s really not bright enough to see into the shadows.
“Up for a run?” I ask him.
“Are you?”
“Chest is still a little sore, but I’ll make it.” No sense in getting too comfortable. Who knows how long we’ll be on the run.
The grass is up to my chest, so there’s no telling what we’re running into or what we’ll come across. I need to be swift but careful--we need to.
We step from the shade, and I glance over my shoulder at him. I can finally make out the color of his eyes in the sunlight--dark green with flecks of yellow around the pupil. I look away and without warning, I start running. He keeps up with ease.
I try to soak in as much detail as I can. This openness, this field, these are the things I’ve dreamed about for so many years. But I don’t feel free, not yet. I wonder if I ever will, or what I think I’ll find. There’s something about running that stirs up the deepest things inside me.
I take deep breaths in and out, basking in the sun. Even though it’s always mostly obstructed, it’s still enough to warm my face.
“Cori?” Dylan asks. I didn’t realize I stopped, but I’m standing in the middle of the field with my head tilted toward the sky, and my fingers gliding over the tall blades of grass. It’s a taste of what life could be like in a world without Nathan, or of this world if I actually manage to elude him. We, I correct myself again.
I nod to Dylan and keep moving, slower now, relishing every detail. A gentle breeze tickles the hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail onto my neck, and I sigh, relaxed. I feel at home here where there’s nothing and no one. Just me and the open space...and Dylan. I try to imagine it without him and I’m glad he’s here. Really glad.
When we cross into the woods, I turn back to look.
“I don’t remember the last time I saw you smile,” he says. He’s not whispering anymore, but he still speaks softly.
I try to pull the corners of my mouth back into my signature scowl, but I can’t help it. I try to imagine what the sky was like when it was blue
and painted with white.
A deep breath, and I turn away.
My foot stumbles over a stone and I catch my balance, but Dylan grabs my elbow to support me anyway. I look at his face, but not his eyes. I pull my elbow away, harsher than intended, but I don’t need help.
He turns on his heel and walks deeper into the woods. He doesn’t speak for hours, and only glances up periodically at the sun. He moves branches out of the way and lets them sling back in place split seconds after I’m through them. Every now and then I take a different path so he doesn’t have to worry about clearing the way.
“Dylan, wait,” I say, slowing down. We’ve been hiking for hours.
“Need to rest?” he asks curtly.
“Thank you.” I cross my arms.
“What?”
“Thank you for saving me. From whatever that machine was.”
“Cori--”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “But I’m not weak. I’m not fragile. I don’t need you to help me take every step.”
“Why do you assume the only reason I want to touch you is because I think you’re weak?”
“Why is it so easy for you to touch people, Dylan? You were raised in the same place I was. You shouldn’t want to.”
I take a deep breath and turn away from him. I can’t read his expression and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve never spent this much time with Dylan, and I feel like I never knew him at all.
“And while I’m at it,” I turn back around. “Who are you? For ten years you sit across from me with your shoulders hunched and your head down. Stealing sidelong glances and speaking so quietly. Always worried. Always careful.”
“And?” He shifts his weight and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He’s tense, maybe more than I am.
“And then we get out here and you’re this calm, confident guy. You’re athletic and strong. And prepared, and--”
“So you liked me better when you thought I was weaker than you? That’s rich.” The statement is laced with something that burns me to the core. And I’m stunned. Is it true?
“I liked you better when I knew who you were. Or who I thought you were.”
Dylan starts walking again, and I trail behind him.
“It wasn’t you I wanted to deceive, Cori. I was trying to protect you. I knew that if we were going to be friends, I’d have to blend in.” He stops and turns to me, raising his voice slightly. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a half a foot taller than everyone else in that building. I tend to stick out. So I slouched at the table, I kept my head down, and I stayed quiet.”
That stings a little. It stings a lot, actually. Blush spills over my cheeks like a volcano, and guilt pricks my heart. The things about him that I’d secretly criticized, he was doing for me.
“I--”
“Don’t say anything. We need to find water.” He commands. It startles me, but I follow him silently.
We walk for another half hour before coming across a small stream where we crouch to drink. I scoop water and lift it to my mouth. I smell it first, but I’d probably drink it even if it smelled off. It tastes fine, too. Actually, it tastes good. Fresh. It’s apparent that the stream was much larger a long time ago, but has dwindled with the water supply.
Dylan drinks as much as he can, and so do I. Ahead, the woods thin out, and I wonder if they’ll end soon and what’s on the other side.
We find more of those brown, juicy things and eat them. I’m still hungry, but it’s enough to keep us moving.
When it gets dark, we can’t find anything that’ll make for good shelter, so we settle in between a couple of large trees. It’s not ideal, but it’s all we can do.
He leans against one tree, and I sit against another facing him, with our legs stretched out between us. I cross my ankles and lay my arms over my chest. I’m wearing the jacket now. I figured I’ve been stubborn enough lately, and I am cold. He doesn’t show it, but I’m sure he’s cold, too.
“My mother’s name was Meredith.”
I sit up a little straighter. He’s never told me this. Maybe because we’ve spent the last ten years talking about me.
“How do you know that?” I ask. He shouldn’t know, not according to Antius’s rules.
“She came to visit me as much as she could. She got pretty good at sneaking around the compound.” He stares somewhere into the distance. “Kind of like you.” He grins, his eyes drifting toward me for a brief moment then back to the woods.
“She would hold me in her arms and sing in my ear. Always quietly so she wouldn’t get caught. She would stroke my face, and kiss my forehead. Run her fingers through my hair. She’d say, ‘I love you, Dylan.’” His breath hitches, then he goes on. “I loved her, too.” His mention of the word love makes me think of my father.
“After me, she couldn’t conceive again. They ran tests, and tried some surgeries and drugs on her...but nothing worked. She begged them to spare her life and allow her to transfer to care-taking. They agreed, provided she was not my caretaker. If she hadn’t been so beautiful, they probably wouldn’t have taken the deal. She was charming.” Like her son, I think.
I imagine an innocent young woman having her child taken from her then being deemed useless like some possession you can throw away. It sickens me.
“She became a caretaker on the girls’ floor. You probably saw her and never knew it.”
“What happened to her?”
He takes a long, deep breath and sighs. “She got caught. I was ripped from her embrace and thrown against a wall, then she was dragged away. I never saw her again.”
Him saying “dragged away” sparks a memory and I close my eyes, trying to focus to call it forward.
I’m on the boys’ floor, hiding in an air return, maybe eleven-years-old. I’m covered in sweat from slipping in the vent and almost getting caught, but I’ve recovered and I’m holding still till the guard on this floor is off my trail.
I watch him pace the hall, listening intently, until Nathan storms through the threshold.
“Take a walk,” Nathan tells him, his speech loud and slurred.
The guard excuses himself and Nathan slams into a boy’s bedroom. I hear a scuffle and then he emerges from the room with a woman in tow. His fingers are clenched around a wad of her hair and he jerks her down the hall. She’s barely able to stay on her feet, and when they’re halfway between the room and me, he slams her into the wall with his fingers around her throat.
“Nathan, please. He’s our son.”
“I have many sons. And many women. What makes you think you two are so special?” His voice comes out as a growl and she doesn’t struggle even though I can tell he’s really hurting her.
“I was just tucking him in. It’s human to love. We’re made that way. Children need the love of a parent.”
“The love of a parent? A father?” he snarls.
“Or a mother.” She begins to cry as his knuckles go white. She makes a sound like she’s gagging and choking.
“I know nothing of either.” Sweat glistens on his forehead in the dim hall lights. His face hardens more than I’ve ever seen it. “But the love of a woman, I don’t mind so much.”
She whimpers as his hold loosens. She meets his eyes but says nothing. He strokes her face as if now he can take back the pain he just caused, but he can’t.
His voice comes out shaky. “I could have been good to you. If you’d loved me. But no, you were saving that for this boy, weren’t you? Let me tell you, he’s nothing, and you’re nothing.” He wipes sweat from his brow. “Unless you think you could reconsider my offer.”
“And break your own laws?” She spits in his face.
He rubs his slimy cheek against her face, closing his eyes in some sick reverie. “If it’s my laws you’re concerned about, you should have never touched that boy. Time to say goodbye.”
Her screams fill the hall as he pulls her away by her hair, her body dragging across the linoleum.
I come to my senses with my
hand covering my gaping mouth. He may not know what I saw, but he knows enough. No wonder Dylan hates him. I hate him, too, I just never knew Dylan had a reason to feel the same.
“I was there.”
He leans forward. “What?”
“I saw him take her. I had no idea it was your mother. I’d forgotten about it.”
“Did you see what he did to her? Where he took her?” he chokes out.
“I don’t know.”
“I know he killed her.” He calms down a bit. And I’m sure he’s right.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. I should have done something.”
He shakes his head and huffs. “There’s nothing you could have done, Cori.” He attempts to reassure me, but it doesn’t work. I play the memory over and over, trying to come up with another possible outcome, but the options all end with her dead and me in jail or dead, too.
Long moments pass as the silence grows, both of us deep in thought. I’m surprised when he continues, because it’s not anything close to the horrible things I’m dwelling on.
“She was a great mother. I can’t imagine a better one.” I think of the risks she took and know he’s right. In the end she sacrificed her life to give her son what she thought he needed.
“Will you tell me about her?” I realize how much I never knew about my own mother and try to imagine her holding me the way Dylan said Meredith held him. I almost envy it, but I’m so happy he had that. It clearly meant so much to him.
“She really tried her best to show me what love was. The beauty of human touch. The importance of freedom. She told me stories about life before the war. She was a teenager when it happened, but she spoke fondly of her country. Of her family. Nathan took pity on her and allowed her to come to Cornelius’s underground shelter.”
He pauses, and I’m glad, because it’s a lot to take in. I’m breathing heavily, and I feel tears searing into the back of my eyes, fighting their way forward. Thinking of Nathan’s hand around Meredith’s throat, I clench my eyelids to ward off the tears.
