by E. R. Arroyo
He takes a deep breath. “You’d fit in with us you know. We’d look out for you. If you’re with us, you’re family. We protect family.”
“A boy or a girl?”
“What?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Your child. A boy or a girl?”
One corner of his mouth pulls upward. “A girl.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” I touch his arm and linger there. His eyes follow my hand, so I don’t think he notices my face straining from the contact. “Just let us go. Please.”
Tyce comes even closer, and I back into the wall. He flattens his hands next to my shoulders, caging me in. When he tilts his head down so that his mouth is somewhere near my ear, I realize he’s quite a bit shorter than Dylan, but still taller than me.
The designs on his skin stretch in strange angles over the tensed muscles in his arms while his heavy breaths warm my cheek.
“It’ll take us a few hours to pack up. We’ll come get you when it’s time to move. We’ll take you to the edge of The City and point you in the direction of a colony called Mercy.”
“Do you...” I swallow hard. “Know them?”
He puts his hand on my hip, squeezing it tightly, aggressively. “We trade with them. I think you’ll find them kind.” It hadn’t occurred to me that they might not be kind. And it should have. Stupid girl.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Any louder and my voice would shake. I can’t let him know he’s making me nervous, and not because I fear for my safety.
The tip of his nose grazes my cheek bone one direction, and then the other. Then his lips trace the same path. My breath stutters out. I don’t know if he smiles because my eyes are closed and my head is tilted the other direction.
He takes my embarrassment as an invitation, and kisses the part of my neck I’ve exposed. His hand leaves my hip and grabs the side of my neck while he kisses a path toward my jaw. I wince when his fingers touch my stitches, and he moves his hand to the side of my face without missing a beat. And it’s anything but gentle. It’s animal.
“Sorry.” There’s definitely a smile in his voice. He kisses along my jaw, and then my chin.
And then my lips.
And then I sigh.
“Dylan is lucky to have you.” His hands both press against my lower back, pulling me toward him, and then jump to my wrists. When I look down, I realize I’m clutching his shirt in both fists. I let go. “I just thought you should know what you’re missing. It’s only fair.” He winks and pulls back, but it isn’t far enough. I still can’t breathe. “You can go back in now.”
“I need a, um...I need a minute.” I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head.
Tyce pulls his shirt back into place, smoothing it down with his calloused hands.
I point toward the restroom. “I’m just gonna...”
He nods, and I jog to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, I try to shake the butterflies in my stomach. That was not fair. He used my body like a weapon against me.
When my heart rate gets halfway back to normal, I march back down the hall and don’t meet his eyes when I reach the door.
“Think it over.”
I walk through the door, and it latches behind me.
“We’re leaving in a few hours. They’re going to let us go.” I can’t look at Dylan. He’ll see it in my eyes, he’ll know.
The blankets are folded, and the pillows stacked atop them. He was busying himself. I finally sneak a glance his way. His forehead glistens with sweat, and his jaw is tight, his fists clenched.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, of course not.” My voice comes out chiding.
He walks toward me, his shoulders stiff. “Did you make some kind of deal? Are there any terms?”
“No, there’s no deal.” I walk toward him, too, still looking anywhere but Dylan’s face. Anywhere but those piercing, knowing eyes.
“So they’re just letting us go?” We both take such slow steps toward each other it takes forever to meet in the middle.
“Yes.” We stand only a foot apart now, and I scrape the dirt from under my fingernails.
“Cori.”
“Hmm?”
He ducks his head, placing his face directly in my line of sight, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Is everything okay?”
Okay is not a word I’m confident in right now, seeing as I can’t seem to reconcile the person I felt like standing in the hall with Tyce and the person I feel like now in front of Dylan. Are they the same person? Is one wrong and one right? One good, one bad? Or simply two different versions of myself?
“Everything’s fine.” I smile as big as the shame will allow then reach for his waist, wrapping my arms around him. With my head against his chest, he can’t see the turmoil behind my eyes. There shouldn’t be any turmoil; I’ve made my choice. I chose Dylan. That settles it.
A knock at the door startles us both. It’s still daytime, but I’m not sure for how much longer. The hours that passed since I came back in were accompanied by idle affection and plenty of silence. Unlike Tyce, Dylan’s touch doesn’t make me nervous. Not anymore.
Tyce waves for us to follow him. He leads us swiftly down the corridor that leads into the main space of the warehouse. All of his boys and men are gathered, packed up, and armed with blades. They share not-so-subtle glares with us, but I ignore it. Dylan grabs my hand and keeps close.
Tyce’s voice fills the building. “No one touches them. Understood?” The responses range anywhere from groans to shrugs.
Two young guys remove a heavy bar from the door and open it. When the men start to move out, we follow close behind Tyce.
They move down the center of the street in a pack, like they did in the neighborhood. Their weapons are drawn like they expect trouble. It’s probably wise, and I wish I was armed.
A high-pitched wailing noise rings through the air, and someone bumps into me. I look every direction. “What was that?”
Tyce grins over his shoulder. “Those are wolves.”
Dylan gawks, “Animals?”
“The City’s full of ‘em. Sewers mostly.” He gestures for us to keep moving.
It’s hard to keep track of the directions and distances because our path seems erratic, though I’m sure it’s not, as these people seem to know exactly where they’re going. In the distance, the tallest building’s I’ve ever seen grace the skyline. Some of them are even made of glass, though many of them are torn across the top or holes blown out the sides. This city must have been a target in the war.
I’m drawn to the tall structures by sheer curiosity, but we cut to the left, and I lose sight of their majesty. The crowd halts in front of a large, light-colored dome half the size of Antius’s inner property. I try to picture what this type of building was for as one man breaks off toward a building across the street. Moments later, other young men emerge encircling teenage girls and young children. The men move around the outer edges, with the women and children in the center of their formation. It’s fascinating, and it’s beautiful.
These people are not monsters. Far from it. At the thought of them, I glance over my shoulder at the savages bringing up the rear. Despite the safety measures--the muzzles--the look in all their eyes is that of peace. Somehow, I understand what Tyce meant. These men were forever altered, and the effects have left their bodies dangerous even though somewhere inside, their souls are intact, and they don’t want to hurt anybody.
If it weren’t for the pitter-patter of feet rushing toward me, I would keep observing them, as my sudden curiosity far outweighs my haste in leaving The City. I glance down to find the source of the sounds.
A little girl with dark hair and the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen pushes her way through the crowd with a young woman clamoring after her. The toddler grabs ahold of my pant leg as she passes me and she slams into Tyce’s leg, her head reaching barely higher than his knee. She wraps her arms fiercely around his leg, squealing.
His face brightens as
he picks her up, throwing her into the air and catching her with his brutish hands. She giggles and squeezes her eyes closed when he kisses her cheek. He’s rough with her, but the bond between them is tender and beautiful. I can hardly imagine him as the violent savage I saw killing those soldiers just days ago. Today, he’s a loving father, nothing more.
“Sorry,” the young woman says, reaching for Tyce’s daughter. She has long hair that falls in ratted curls over her exposed shoulders. Her shirt hangs down on both sides revealing more skin than I think I’d ever be comfortable showing. Most of the girls look like her with clothes ranging from too baggy to skin tight. Their hair is messy like hers, and none of them have ponytails like the women in Antius. There’s something wild about them but something free about them, too.
“No worries, I’ll carry her a while.” He kisses his daughter again. I have an urge to ask her name, but stifle it. Then he throws her onto his shoulders and she wraps her tiny hands around his chin, holding tightly. With his hands on her legs, steadying her, he nods for the group to keep moving. I can’t help but smile seeing the way they’ve found simple joys despite this cold, cold world.
We’re back on our way, and after a couple of blocks, the sun begins to set. Tyce breaks away from the group, passing off his beautiful baby girl to the curly-haired caretaker. When the group turns left, Tyce leads us straight.
After a few paces, he stops and spins toward us. He pulls a gun from the back of his pants, and I recognize it. It’s the one they took from me. He looks me in the eye, and I slip my hand out of Dylan’s. Tyce flips the gun backwards in his hand and gives it to me. After I check the clip and chamber, I stuff it in my pants. Tyce faces Dylan, pulling a knife and extending it to him, handle first.
“Keep on this street until it ends. Go that direction until you reach the river. You’ll see the bridge to the left. Go over the highways, and do not go in the tunnels. Cross the bridge and keep movin’ till you reach a set of train tracks. Follow them to the right.”
“And then?” Dylan asks, trying, discreetly, to adjust his grip on the knife to line his fingers up with the ridges on the handle.
“And then I’m pretty sure they’ll come to you.” Tyce winks at me, and Dylan snorts and rubs the back of his neck.
“You sure about this, kiddo?” Tyce smiles at me as if Dylan doesn’t exist.
I slip my fingers in between Dylan’s and smile back. “I’m sure.”
At that, Tyce nods and jogs toward his people. I call after him, “I meant what I said. She’s lucky to have you.”
“No,” he shouts. “I’m lucky to have her.” He waves, before disappearing around a corner.
Dylan squeezes my hand and tugs me toward the bridge, which I can barely make out in the twilight. Now that I’m not distracted by Tyce and his crew, I soak in The City around us. Everything is dark and dull, and the fading sunlight illuminates broken windows, bashed in doors, and plenty of rubble and fire damage. Not to mention the buildings that are barely half what they used to be--before whatever happened here.
I make sure to keep us in the center of the road, thinking if that’s what the savages do, there’s probably a reason. I still hear the wolves howling distantly and shudder to think what else waits in the darkness.
Dylan, I notice, squeezes the handle of the dagger so tightly his knuckles turn white.
“Do you want to trade weapons?”
He looks down at me, forcing a smile. “No, it’s fine.”
“I think we should pick up the pace. We’re losing sunlight.” I survey the area and let go of his hand to jog. He keeps up easily.
Somewhere behind us, another noise fills the air, and it’s not the wolves. It’s a higher pitched, shrill sound, seeming to come from high above.
The sounds of our boots on the pavement echo through the street, bouncing off the tall buildings on either side. The shrieks become louder, the sources growing closer. A panic surges through me as I finally recognize it--birds.
I glance over my shoulder at the sky and don’t see any birds in flight, but I still hear them getting closer. As the last bit of sunlight dips behind the horizon, my eyes adjust and focus on the surrounding buildings.
Birds run along the rooftops, jumping from ledge to ledge, and building to building. Just like the ones that attacked us in the training drill, these can’t seem to fly.
Dylan and I stop in our tracks both gawking at them. I realize this is the first time Dylan has ever seen an animal.
“Go,” I whisper, trying not to remember the pain from my last run-in with birds.
Dylan doesn’t move, he just stares at them, his mouth hanging open. I grab his arm and squeeze hard. “Dylan, run!”
One foot after the other and Dylan right beside me, I sprint with everything I’ve got toward that bridge. I have no idea what’s on the other side--it could still be more of the city, and more animals--but for now that’s the only goal we have. Just get to the bridge.
When we’re about a block from a giant street, which I presume to be the highway Tyce spoke of, I notice the birds are jumping to lower ledges, getting closer to the ground. If they land on the street, I know we can outrun them, so there’s no way they can hurt us.
I look over my left shoulder while drawing my weapon, and when I look back, Dylan is tripping over something in the road. When he hits the ground, a bird dives off a ledge toward Dylan.
I aim the gun and pull the trigger. The bird goes limp, falling next to Dylan’s head. He covers his head, knife still in hand then jumps to his feet and leads the way to the bridge.
More birds dive after us but miss, hitting the ground behind us. They scream and wail the most unnerving sounds I’ve ever heard, but they grow quieter. I don’t look back, but I can tell we’re losing them.
In the corner of my eye, I notice a creature on four legs coming out of the shadow, but it ducks away when it sees us.
When we hit the highway and the buildings are behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief, but I’m still not ready to stop running. And I probably won’t until we’re long out of this city.
We cut left and jog toward a yellow bridge suspended by metal cables. Only a little water wets the ground in the river below, but from the embankments, I assume the water used to be much deeper.
Partway through the bridge, we slow to a steady jog, but keep moving. I keep my weapon drawn, and Dylan keeps his hand firm around his blade.
“What,” he huffs. “Were those?”
“Birds, I guess.” I look up at the metal cords that run along the framework of the bridge. I see shadows of things perched on them, but they aren’t moving. If they’re birds, I don’t think they’re the same kind.
“Aren’t birds supposed to fly?”
“Must be mutated. I don’t think they can spread their wings.” With that thought, I pick up the pace again. I don’t want to risk them catching up.
Halfway across the bridge, the road is shattered and we leap over cracks and holes. The farther we get, the bigger the holes get. It slows us tremendously, but I’m confident the walking birds aren’t following anymore, or if they are, they can’t keep up.
When we get a little farther, the road has been blown out completely, and the gap is far too wide to jump over. I stuff the gun back in my pants. “We have to climb.”
“Perfect.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard sarcasm in his voice before, but it’s kind of refreshing.
Dylan stuffs the knife in a cargo pocket by his knee and grabs a giant cable on the side of the bridge, testing it for stability, and begins to climb while I inspect a separate cluster of cables nearby. Along the length of the bridge, these cables are bunched in fours, and seem to be made of steel. Plenty sturdy. At the top, the cables are anchored into a pipe that rises and falls in two giant peaks. We’re in between the two, where the support beam dips lowest.
I latch onto one and begin to climb, too. It stings my hands after a few reps upward, and I use my feet to help carry my weight. Glancing down
at the ground too frequently, Dylan labors up the cables next to mine, holding two of them like the sides of a ladder without rungs, as opposed to my technique of climbing a single cable like a rope. I don’t know if he has ever climbed anything, but he handles his weight well. The closer we get, the more the dark shadows come into view. They are definitely birds, but I have no idea what kind.
“Stop looking down.”
He laughs nervously. “Sure. Okay.”
An eternity later, I reach the top about a minute before Dylan does. A bird rests directly above me on a thin piece of cable. It looks at me for a long moment, and I hold my breath, anxious for its reaction to me. Then the bird turns its head away, as if deciding I’m not a threat. It got up here somehow, so I assume that this kind can fly. I’m glad it’s not aggressive like the walking ones.
“Need a minute to rest?”
“No, let’s just get this over with,” he huffs.
I nod and reach for the pole that the cables are bolted into. Inch by inch, I slide across the metal and hold onto the next cable I come to and rest. It gets harder as we move because the brace goes upward from where we first got on, gradually leading us higher toward a support tower. It seems to go against logic to go farther from the ground, but it’s our only option. Moving forward means moving up. We’re still over the gaping hole, so I keep going. My hands ache, every knuckle on fire. Dylan weighs twice as much as me, so I can’t imagine how hard it is to hold himself up by his fingertips.
“You still with me?” I don’t risk looking back from such a vulnerable position.
He grunts. “Always.” A shaky breath escapes him. “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”
We pause at every cable we come to, wrapping our legs and elbows around them and resting our hands. It takes five more cables before I’m hanging above pavement again, and it just so happens to be the highest cable, right before the support tower, so it’s a long way to the ground. I wipe sweat from my brow, then head down. Dylan slides across the final divide, so I look up at him while I shimmy downward.
Just before he reaches the cable, one hand slips and he dangles by four fingertips. I gasp and reach out as if I could catch him if he falls. Before his remaining fingers give way, his other hand latches onto the cable and I gasp, reeling from the sudden panic. He mumbles something under his breath I can’t quite make out.
