We’d been flirtatiously exchanging messages as usual when my patrol partner Rick excused himself to find “the facilities.” Rivers was cupping my hands inside his own to warm them against the midnight chill as Rick disappeared around the corner. Rivers watched him go, then used his grip on my hands to pull me close to his chest. I looked up at him, the strong planes of his cheeks silvered by moonlight and shadows deepening the soft curves of his full lips. Quick puffs of frozen breath betrayed his quickened breathing as he leaned toward me and covered my lips with his own.
My heart was pounding with excitement. Here it was, finally. My first real kiss. And from a handsome boy in romantic moonlight no less. I leaned into his chest and did my best to kiss him back. At this show of enthusiasm, Rivers dropped my hands and wrapped his arms around me instead, pressing me close to his taut body and kissing me more passionately.
My heart was pounding, but oddly, once the initial excitement at being kissed had ebbed, I was struggling to feel the passion I was sure I should be experiencing right now. It felt nice, but I didn’t feel the tingling, melting, thrilling pleasure that I’d been led to expect.
Rivers realized that I wasn’t responding quite as enthusiastically as he’d hoped and pulled away to look searchingly into my eyes. I smiled tremulously at him and he leaned in to kiss me again. I tried to throw myself into it; I really did. Was this what kissing was? This mildly enjoyable connection? Or was there something missing between us?
Rivers broke the kiss again and gently stroked my hair back from my forehead.
“That was nice,” I told him.
“Nice,” he repeated, looking at me a little oddly.
“Yes,” I said earnestly. “Really … nice.”
Rivers smiled at me and dropped his arms from around me, taking a step back. “Very nice,” he agreed. “Your partner’s on his way back, Little Bit. You’d better get back to your patrol.”
“Yep.” I nodded awkwardly and took a step toward him. But suddenly the casual kiss I dropped onto his cheek felt uncomfortable. I blushed and backed away clearing my throat self-consciously. “Yep,” I said again. “I’d better go.” I didn’t look back as I practically ran away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
For the next week I both dreaded and hoped to bump into Rivers on patrol, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was so busy watching for him and worrying that I’d completely ruined our relationship that I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings. Luckily my patrol partner was paying attention and managed to grab my arm and pull me to a halt as I was about to jump off a pile of bricks into an innocuous patch of greenery.
“Watch it!” Marcii snapped. “That’s a Burning Bush.”
“A Burning Bush?” I repeated, amused. “Of the Biblical variety?”
“No,” she told me, “of the dangerous variety. The bushes give off some kind of flammable gas. A tiny spark is all it takes to light it up.” She looked significantly at our perch atop the crumbled bricks and added, “Even a couple of bricks knocking together or your boots skidding on the concrete can create enough of a spark to set it off.”
Marcii backed cautiously away from the edge of the rubble. I followed her carefully. We circled around the pile instead and came at the bush from another angle. Marcii took me as close as she deemed safe so that I could get a good look at the bush. I committed the thick oval shape and greasy green look of the leaves to memory so that I could recognize the species again if I saw it on another patrol. Once Marcii pointed it out, I was also able to smell the faint, overly sweet floral scent of the gas.
When I indicated to Marcii that I had seen enough, we backed away until we could no longer smell the gas. Marcii grinned at me, her white teeth flashing in the dim evening light. “Now comes the fun part,” she told me, searching for something in her hip pack. “You don’t want to let the gas build up too long, or when something finally sets it off it could create a monster fire. So we make a point of burning off the accumulated gas any time we come across a Burning Bush.”
Marcii found what she’d been looking for in her pack and pulled out a portable spark – which was a single-use firestarter. The spark was a tiny organo-plastic tube filled with a couple of different chemicals which were separated by a thin membrane. When you needed a flame, you simply twisted the tube to break the membrane and allow the chemicals to mix. In less than a minute, the chemical reaction would create a small, hot flame that lasted until the combustible material of the tube was consumed. That gave you enough time to light a candle or coax a larger flame to life with tinder and kindling for a cooking fire.
“Get ready to move,” Marcii told me and gave the spark a firm twist. I heard the faint crackle that meant the chemical reaction had begun as Marcii lobbed the little tube directly into the center of the Burning Bush. She immediately spun around and sprinted away. I was only a step behind her as we dashed down the block and ducked behind the rusting hulk of an old car for shelter.
Moments after we took cover, the bush ignited with a loud whump of burning air. A column of flame raced into the sky and lit up the streets around us with wild orange light. I yelped in surprise at the mini-explosion, and Marcii laughed at me. She had a contagious, snorting laugh that suddenly struck me as hilarious. I whooped with laughter too, which only made her laugh harder. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks, our stomachs hurt, and our knees were weak, forcing us to first lean against the car for support and then slide all the way down to sit on the ground.
By the time we managed to compose ourselves, the flames were dying down to something more like a campfire than a bonfire. Marcii and I crawled around to the other side of the car so we could lean against it and watch the dying blaze. We had to stick around until it had burned itself out and we could stomp and bury the final embers, so we made ourselves as comfortable as we could on the cold concrete. At least this section had been scoured clear by wind, so we weren’t sitting in a snowdrift.
We sat in comfortable quiet for a while. Marcii finally broke the silence. “I’m about to pry into your personal life here,” she announced. “Because you’ve been off your game this week. Whatever’s going on with you and Pretty-Boy Rivers, you gotta keep your head straight when you’re on patrol. You can’t let yourself get distracted like this or someone is gonna get hurt.”
I was embarrassed to realize that my mental turmoil had been so evident and felt my cheeks flush with shame. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“S’okay,” Marcii shrugged, not pressing for more unless I felt like talking.
I said nothing for a few minutes, then blurted, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Rivers is gorgeous. He’s nice. And smart. And fun. And he seems to like me a lot. And I thought I liked him a lot. But then he kissed me and it was just … not … Cha, I don’t know. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be.”
“Cha, of course it wasn’t,” Marcii responded matter of factly.
“Of course?” I echoed. “Why ‘of course’?”
“Because you’re the type who’s looking for love. And you’re not in love with Rivers. He’s a buddy, not a lover. For you, anyway. You have a great time flirting with him, but it’s just a game, nothing deeper.”
“That makes me sound awfully shallow,” I protested. “I wasn’t trying to play any games.”
“No, you were just playing at love. You wanted it to be love, but the spark isn’t there. That’s the same thing I told Rivers when I saw him yesterday, by the way. He’s in the same boat you are of wanting it to be more … but it’s just not.”
I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders at that little revelation. The worst part of this whole thing had been the idea of hurting Rivers with my confused feelings. “Really?” I breathed. “How did he react to that?”
“About the way you did,” she said with a little laugh. “Annoyed at me at first and then relieved to realize he wasn’t going to break your heart. I told him to lay low for a couple of days so you could both put it behind you and then
move on like it never happened. That what you want?”
“Yes,” I said fervently. “That’s exactly right.”
“I thought so,” she said in satisfaction. She stood up and dusted off her pants, then held out a hand to help me to my feet. “Glad I could straighten the two of you out. I may be a big ol’ busy-body, but at least it’s for a good cause.”
We stomped out the final sparks from the Burning Bush, and I was fascinated to see that the bush itself had not even been scorched by the conflagration. Marcii and I finished our patrol without further incident, and I went to bed for the best night of sleep I’d had all week.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was a cool April night and I was slogging through ankle-deep mud on a solo patrol along our border with Rivers’ pack. As the weather had warmed, the falling snow turned to rain and the standing snow to streams of brown water rushing through the canyons of collapsed masonry. The muddy runoff mixed with debris and rubble in the streets to create a thick sludge that grabbed at my boots and forced me to heave my feet free of the muck for every step. When possible I clambered onto higher ground and worked my way through crumbling piles of brick and drywall, but that had its hazards too.
This section of the city had been almost entirely destroyed during the war, so there was no cover from the near-constant spring rain. The moisture left the stones slippery, requiring me to watch every step and find handholds on the twisted rebar and support beams that still thrust into the air in many places. As I was cautiously picking my way back down to street level from the tumbled remnants of the Coors Field baseball park, I saw Rivers walking toward the stadium. He raised a hand in a casual salute and leaned against a crooked lamppost to wait for me.
Since Marcii had set us both straight, we had fallen back into our friendly flirtation. Now that we both knew it was just for fun, we could enjoy our friendship again without clouding it with other issues. As we traded information and gossip regularly, Rivers started the conversation by asking, “Anything interesting on patrol today?”
“Not really,” I told him. “A few animals that I’ll report back to the hunters, but nothing dangerous.” I nodded toward Coors Field and mentioned, “It looks like someone camped out in the stadium for a day or two, but they seem to be gone now. You might want to keep an eye out for them.”
Rivers nodded and shared his own news, “We’ve spotted big cat tracks near our western border, but we have hunting parties out looking for it. They’ll either take it down or chase it back past the freeway.”
“Thanks. I’ll let the patrols know they should keep an eye out in case it slips our way.”
We shared a few more bits of information, including the fact that Jessie had finally had it with Mateo and kicked him out of her pack. He was currently a loner. We speculated for a few minutes on what pack he might fit in with, then went our separate ways to finish our patrols.
I worked my way south for a few blocks until I reached the overgrown remnants of an old park. Left untouched since the city’s abandonment, the greenery in the small park had taken over the streets for blocks in every direction. There was no way through without hiking through the park or making a long detour that would take me outside Liberty territory. The tall trees grew so closely together that even in early spring the branches wove a dense canopy overhead that offered a welcome break from the drizzling rain. Unfortunately, the cover also blocked the moonlight, leaving me in deep shadow. It was hard to work my way through the thick undergrowth of weeds and bushes, but at least the plants kept the mud to a minimum.
I paid careful attention to my surroundings while moving as quietly as I could. The near-impenetrable forest that had taken over the crumbling city blocks was a perfect sanctuary for any number of intruders, both animal and human. I looked for any signs of trespassers under the trees and saw nothing out of place. A particularly thick tangle of vines and weeds covered the short brick wall that used to mark the boundaries of the park. The vines were covered in short, sharp thorns, making it painful to climb over the wall. Instead, I usually opted to grab the low branch hanging over the wall from a tree growing outside the park. I could hoist myself onto the branch and work my way back to the trunk, then slide down to street level.
I had just reached the crook of the tree when I heard a small rustle in the bushes below me. I froze and looked for the source of the sound. I scanned the area around me and listened closely, trying to hear the swishing branches again. Everything was silent. Even the insects had gone quiet. I very carefully pulled my legs up onto the branch in front of me. I didn’t want anything dangling down into the darkness when I didn’t know what might be moving around below me. I quietly turned to prop my back against the tree trunk for added stability. Hugging my legs with my arms, I waited for another sound or movement from the brush. Whatever it was, it was quiet now. I was going to have to wait it out.
From my position in the tree I could see the moon again. The clouds had finally cleared, leaving a smooth, dark velvet sky studded with diamond-bright stars. Back in Goodland the streets and buildings were brightly lit at all times. You couldn’t even see the sky through the glare of the lights. Now one of my favorite things about night patrols was the chance to see the bright sparks of the stars and the liquid glow of the moon.
I sat in the tree as the moon moved through the sky. One of my first lessons as a guard had been how to tell time by the moon or the sun, so I was able to estimate that I’d been in the tree for almost two hours. It felt like a very long time, but both animals and people out here were canny. Whatever I had heard might be trying to wait me out as well. I reined in my impatience and sat still; I didn’t want to get down until I was very sure that nothing was out here with me.
I made myself stay put for another hour. My persistence paid off when I finally heard the cracking of branches underfoot. I watched the swaying greenery intently to see what or who emerged and a moment later I saw a black, scaly snout break free of the bushes. I froze and held my breath as the Shadow’s head swung back and forth, its red eyes scanning to try and spot me in the darkness.
The Shadow paced around my tree and sniffed around the wall for several minutes. Thankfully I had come across the wall on the branch, so no fresh scent trail led to my position in the tree. The Shadow continued looking for me for a bit longer, then seemed to give up. The Shadow gave one sharp bark and suddenly an entire pack of Shadows melted out of the gloom around me, four adults and one small enough to be a puppy. I could see where the name Shadow came from because the animals had been invisible as shadows beneath the trees until they moved. The group milled around under the tree, exchanging growls and yips in a kind of conversation.
I was shivering in fear. I had outrun a Shadow in my last encounter with one of the venomous dogs, but only because I’d had surprise on my side and had been able to provide a more convenient target for the Shadow to attack. I would have no chance against a pack of Shadows who were looking for me. I sat very still, barely breathing as I watched the animals trot back and forth beneath my branch. My muscles were knotted with anxiety by the time the lead dog finally raised its muzzle and gave another short bark. The Shadow loped away toward Park Avenue, and the rest of the pack followed. Within moments they had disappeared into the darkness of the park.
I was torn; should I stay put to let them get further away or get out while I had an opportunity? If I left now the dogs might still be close enough to hear me and give chase. But if I waited, there was always the chance that the Shadows would circle back without me noticing them until I hopped out of the tree and it was too late.
I hesitated for a few minutes before deciding to make a run for it. I unfolded myself from the branch and hung from my hands to lower myself to the ground. I exploded into motion the moment my feet hit pavement and dashed down the street, dodging through trees, bushes, and fallen masonry until I reached the corner where I’d left my mag-lev bike at the beginning of my patrol. I jumped onto the bike without a pause and was rolling
down the street to click onto the rail before my butt even hit the seat. As soon as the bike reached the rail I wrenched the throttle to full speed and raced away. I didn’t breathe easy until I was a mile down the road with no sign of pursuit.
I was glad the streets were clear between the park and base because by the time I rolled my bike into the parking area the adrenaline rush had crashed, leaving me reeling with exhaustion. Though I’d spent much of the time crouched in a tree, I’d been constantly on alert with my muscles tensed and ready for action during the long wait. I climbed off the bike and handed the ignition stick over to the guard watching the lot, then headed slowly for the base entrance. My muscles were leaden with fatigue, and I wanted nothing more than a fast shower to wash away the acrid sweat of fear and exertion and then to fall into bed for a long sleep.
Benny, the guard watching the hole in the wall that served as the front entrance, clapped me on the shoulder. “Glad to see you back,” he told me. “People were starting to worry.”
I abandoned my hopes for a quick shower before reporting in. If even the guards currently on duty knew I was late, Sharra was sure to be waiting for me in the guard room, and I’d better not delay any longer. I sighed and headed for the stairs instead of the showers. I eyed the long staircase with deep dislike for a moment before trudging up the steps to the second floor.
When I opened the door to the guard room, a couple of dozen faces turned my way. I could feel the tension draining from the room as I was recognized and immediately people got up and started heading for the door now that they knew I was okay. Whenever someone was particularly late reporting in from patrol, all the guards in base tended to gather in the guard room to wait it out. We were a close-knit group; risking your lives together tended to have that effect. It happened often enough that someone came back badly injured or not at all, so when someone was missing we all worried and hung out together until we knew that they were safe.
Into Shadow (Shadow and Light Book 1) Page 20
