The Burn

  Chapter Thirteen

  I wake up to warm sunlight on my face. I had been dreaming about lying in Field #3 with no protective suit on. My dad had been shaking me awake, crying over my red skin, moaning about what he could have done better. I shudder.

  Dave is already gone, the blanket a heap at the foot of his bed.

  I shake the sleep from my head. I am so tired. I need to sleep more before the hunting trip tomorrow. But then a flurry of people outside my door—people with packs and supplies and guns—and I wonder if it is tomorrow. Have I really slept for an entire day?

  I dress and shamble downstairs. Dave is at the bottom, going through packs and checking supplies.

  After a breakfast of eggs, strawberries, and bread, those of us going on the hunting trip gather outside the cafeteria.

  Dave, Jack, Sam, and eight other men offered to come. I’m the only girl. I don’t mind. I know Dave will take good care of me, and Jack is quickly becoming a good friend. Red offered, but Nell wouldn’t let him. She still wants him close by after the supply drop. And there are scanner checkpoints along the way. No one with a tracker is allowed to come.

  Red must have been right about my going on the supply drop. I don’t know the others too well, but they don’t bat an eye when Dave tells them I’m coming.

  I shoulder my pack and straw hat and wait. Red stands by me.

  “You probably want to leave that bag here, Terra,” he says, nodding toward my pack. He holds a large pack with a metal frame and a bedroll out to me.

  “Everyone has to carry their share on these trips, and that bag won’t do. You’ll need a bedroll, food, and clothes.”

  Nell comes over to stand by us and laughs. “Red doesn’t get to go, so he micromanages.”

  I shrug off my bag and Red hands me the big pack.

  “I took the liberty of packing yours. Hope you don’t mind. You just need to put your clothes in.” He smiles at me. I grin back.

  The people here haven’t stopped surprising me. They stand in stark contrast to the mob at Town Hall. I bob my head up and down, hoping he’ll see my gratitude. He shuffles side to side a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. He searches for something to say.

  “Two days ago was hard. But life’s not always that way. You can’t let it have its way with you.”

  I carefully pull my clothes from my bag and fold them in the top of the framed pack. I probably should have done this up in my room, I think as my hands close around the first-aid kit in my bag. The sleek metal container is so different from the baskets that hold their own hand-knitted bandages. I glance around, but everyone else tends to their own packs. I try not to look too secretive. I’m trying to be one of them; I am anything but. I slip the first-aid kit into my pack.

  I point to my bag and then upstairs.

  “Just going to drop it off, eh?” Red says. I nod. “Good. I’ll let Dave know and then you’ll be off.”

  When I open the door to Dave’s room, I drop the bag on the big bed and turn to go. Hazy rays light dust motes floating through the open window. The long grass beyond the paved road rasps gently in the wind, drifting ahead of dark clouds rolling in. This is so different from the coldness and violence of the city. I’m glad I never told Jessa about this, never asked her to come with me. I hear the sound of my sister’s voice, see the tears on her face, hear the heartbreak in her words. I ripped her apart, but she is safe. I glance at the door. No one is in the halls. I lean down to my bag and unzip the pocket that holds the words I’ve clung to.

  I love you too, I think as I press the paper to my chest. I wonder what Jessa is doing. I kiss the letter and carefully fold it. I’m just about to put it back in the pocket when a voice startles me. I whip around.

  Mary stands in the doorway. How long has she been standing there? Panic bubbles in my throat as I clutch the paper. It crunches as my fingers tighten around it. Look away, I tell myself. But her eyes catch me and flame at me, not accusingly, but as if she tries to burn a hole straight into my soul. She wants the truth, and I can’t give it to her. I can give Mary nothing but lies. No wonder she doesn’t trust me.

  “You ready?” She shakes off the animal posture she had assumed when I glanced at her. I wrench my gaze from her, and try as casually as I can to put the letter away. My hands shake. Surely she sees it. She is like a dog that senses fear.

  I put my bag under one of the desks. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. Mary’s face is carefully blank, but as we leave the room, her eyes dart to my bag half-hidden in shadows. But there’s nothing to be done now.

  When we leave the school, Nell hugs me.

  “Have fun, Terra. And be careful. Most of these boys will tell you what fun a hunting trip is, but Red would be the one to tell you to be careful. It’s often best to listen to my Red.” She squeezes his hand.

  “Just stick with Jack, you’ll be fine,” Red says.

  But I need Dave. Jack is quiet and thoughtful. Dave laughs and jokes. I need that to keep myself from thinking. I understand now why there was a bonfire—a distraction. Why a hunting trip—another distraction. I understand why we need so many distractions.

  We pass through the grass next to the oca fields. I glance back one more time. Nell stands in back by the fire pit, waving. I wave back. Nell is so open, she seems to embrace all of us with that farewell gesture. Dave sidles up next to me. He acts like the past two days didn’t happen. I love him for it.

  “She always waves until we’re out of sight. Sometimes I think it kills her to be away from all of us for too long. She’s like a mother to us.” He turns back to our path. Sweat breaks out on his forehead, the faint, glistening beads reflecting the morning sun.

  I think of my pack unguarded in my room. I shudder.

  “You okay?”

  Why am I so stupid? Why did I have to pull that out and read it? This is why I had my tongue carved out of my mouth. But that hadn’t mattered after all. Now Mary is suspicious and I still can’t say anything.

  I jump when Dave puts a hand on mine.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I realize I’ve been wringing my hands. I try to smile, but it comes out like a grimace.

  “You’ve been funny since we came back from the drop. What’s going on?”

  The drop. The last thing I want to talk about. I try a better smile. I need to change the subject. I point ahead and glance a question at him.

  “Where’re we going?”

  I nod. He adjusts his pack on his shoulders and brushes the hair out of his eyes before putting on a wide-brimmed hat.

  “About thirty miles away. West southwest. I couldn’t even tell you what the place is called. Or used to be called. Someone before my dad used to call it Olympia or something. But that name kind of disappeared and we just call it the hunting grounds. It’s where we always go.”

  I flinch. Thirty miles? In these hiking boots? I have a few good blisters already from walking through the city, and I’ve been too embarrassed to ask for any moleskin. They all thought I walked here from Arizona. Blisters should not be a problem.

  We pass the first scanner at the edge of the woods. It is waist-high and black.

  “In theory it only activates when a tracker is within fifty feet of it,” Dave tells me. “You really don’t have these in Arizona?”

  I shake my head.

  Dave shrugs. “Then it scans the tracker and sends the data back to the capitol. In theory. But we’re always a little wary.”

  It remains silent as we pass, not even a mechanical whir to let me know it spies on us. Even though none of us have trackers, we collectively hold our breaths until we’re all clear.

  We walk through forest on nothing more than a sliver of path through the trees (“a deer track,” Dave tells me), and my feet find every root and fallen log to catch on. The other guys with us try hard not to laugh. I honestly think they try. But who can blame them for a few chuckles now and then? I am used to tiled hallways and short carpeting. Here I spend more time splay
ed out on the ground than upright. Dave spends most of his time with me bringing up the rear.

  It is gloomy in the forest, too. Not a sad gloomy, but mysterious. With the clouds that rolled in to blanket the sky, there isn’t enough sunlight. Under the green canopy, the light is grayish and murky, like the choppy water when I first landed. If Dave weren’t walking so close, I might feel nervous. But Dave walks confidently and talks now and then in his usual cheerful voice.

  This is all so foreign to me. I thought life here was farming. Then I thought life here was a race for survival through the city. Now life is a hike through the trees. It’s all too new and it’s wearing me out.

  By the end of the evening, my feet are killing me. We walked about eighteen miles. Dave helps me set up my tent. All our tents circle to face the fire that Sam builds. I go in my tent for a moment while Dave sets up his own. I have to take my boots off. I ease them off as I stifle a gasp. My socks show pinkish wet marks. My blisters probably popped and the pus has oozed through my socks. I’m tempted to take my socks off to survey the damage, but decide not to. I don’t want to see that mess, and it will probably hurt worse than taking off my boots did. And I still have to get the boots back on my feet.

  Tears stream down my face as I lace up the boots. How do these people walk up here with these heavy boots? Everyone has similar shoes. Maybe I just need more time. I can get used to this life, surely. I have to if I’m going to survive. I will myself to forget the pain. I wipe my face with my sleeve and step outside.

  Dave waits for me, a small gun in his hands. “This is for you.”

  I blanch.

  “I know, I know. You’d rather not. And after the boat ride, I don’t know if you’d ever use it. Keep it in your belt if you want and never take it out, that’s fine. I’ll just feel better knowing you have it.”

  I gingerly take the gun and ease it under my belt. The nausea rises in my throat, knowing I have a gun in my possession. Dave smiles.

  “It’s just metal and gunpowder, Terra. Metal and gunpowder. It’s not dangerous unless you let it be.”

  He’s trying to comfort me, but it doesn’t work. I turn from him and sit down on a log by the fire. He pats my shoulder with one hand and goes to help with the cook pot.

  Jack sits down by me. “How’s your first hunting trip?”

  I smile and point to the gun at my side.

  “Dave already armed you? I figured it wouldn’t be long. Do you know how to use it?”

  I nod hesitantly. I do know how. But I remember the tremor that shook me the first time I pointed it at a human being. Can I ever do it again?

  Someone brings us each a tin mug of hot water. They boil all their water to purify it, and on a hunting trip, they don’t have time to wait for it to cool. The weather is still too warm and sticky for hot water, but I’m parched. I slurp it, and my healing tongue curses me.

  Jack sips his. “You know, Dave really likes you.” He tries to say it casually, but Jack is always serious. His eyes flick over to me, and then back to his mug.

  I can’t help smiling. I always smile when I think of Dave, and I am thinking of him more and more. I lace my fingers around my mug and nod slightly.

  “I’m sort of the doctor for the settlement. My great-grandma was a doctor, too. She taught my grandma once everything blew up. Then she taught my dad. It was rough—there was no real school or great equipment. The skill is valuable. The government says they offer free medical care. But more often than not, people disappear—to labor camps or worse. The government has no money to offer anything for free—I don’t know how they do the supply drops—and no one has any money to pay. Some gangs are willing to kill for a good doctor.”

  I see a boot on a face, a crying girl, Red alone. My mantra of terror. Jack notices. He sits his mug on his knee and regards me for a moment. His dark hazel eyes glitter in the firelight.

  “Were things that different in Arizona?”

  Where I came from, it was different. I hope he won’t produce a paper and pencil for further answers.

  “Yes, it probably would be. Desert and all. You’re probably worried more about surviving the weather than surviving each other.”

  I nod. It is the perfect explanation.

  “My dad taught me what Grandma had taught him. He taught me while we left the city—not Seattle, I’m from the middle—to find something better. We wandered awhile before we found Dave and his bunch. They were glad for the medical help. We were glad for something different. Gentler.”

  I came here for something better. Gentler is a good word. In some ways I've found that. In other ways, the Burn is a million times worse. But the things Jack fled from were so much different than what I left. It makes me almost feel guilty to be here. The settlement is a refuge for all these people who fled violence and terror and the nightmares that keep them up at night. It isn’t supposed to be a refuge for people like me. What about my life had been so bad? These people would give anything to live in the colony. I study my mug and chug the rest of the water.

  I notice Dave across the firelight. His hair shimmers orange in the fire’s glow. All around us is dark. Only the people, the tents in fading shadow, and the trees standing so dimly I can barely make out the shapes of their trunks gleam in the firelight. Dave’s eyes look gray in the light, and they dance. Dave’s eyes are happy, but something veils them slightly. My Dad’s eyes have the same veil, but his is so heavy that his eyes are constantly smothered by it.

  It is love. That’s the difference. I surprise myself at the revelation. My dad had love, but it was gone. Dave had it with Mary. What do other people see in my eyes? Is this why Jessa always begged me to go out with her? Did she see this same shadow in my eyes?

  As I look at Dave, I warm from head to toe, and I think maybe the veil is lifting. Dave can protect me. Dave can hold me against the nightmares that come every time I close my eyes. If he kept those arms wrapped around me, I would never be lost again.

  Jack gently flicks me with a finger. I jump. He laughs—a gorgeous, quiet laugh. I can’t help smiling. I haven’t heard him laugh before, and I love the sound. He raises his eyebrows in Dave’s direction.

  “Yeah, I know who you were looking at.” He says it kindly.

  I blush and hide my face in my hands. Jack laughs even more quietly this time.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Dave’s a great guy. We’ve been friends ever since I came here.”

  I grab his hand. He’s hesitant at first until he sees I want to spell something on the palm.

  “Mary?” he asks. I nod, hoping he’ll understand.

  “Yes, I could see how that would be a problem. You’re smart if you noticed all that already.”

  He looks up as Sam brings us each a plate of stew with a slice of bread. I take my plate and bow my head to Sam.

  “You’re welcome, Terra.”

  And then Jack says, “Sam, what would you tell her about Mary?”

  Nothing is a secret here. Everyone will know I like Dave. No wonder Mary doesn’t trust me. Sam glances between me and Dave. No secrets.

  “We all kinda wondered when that would come up.” Sam sits on my other side and shovels a mouthful of meat and oca in his mouth. The gravy drips on his smooth chin, and he dabs at it with a rough cloth napkin. Most of the guys here have whiskers. Sam is hard pressed to grow stubble. He’s at least a year younger than me. I think of him driving the boat with a gun pointed at his back.

  “The thing with Mary is that she and Dave talked about getting married.”

  I almost choke.

  Jack thwacks me on the back. “Well, he’s eighteen. She’s almost twenty. I don’t know how they do it in Arizona, but up here, marriage often happens sooner. It’s safer to always be with someone.”

  Sam takes a sip of water, stabs a shriveled carrot with his fork, and opens his mouth. Then freezes.

  I look up. Just outside the firelight between two tree trunks a solid shape materializes. Not tall and straigh
t like the trees, but shorter, stockier, and two gleaming pin pricks shining back at us.

  Dave sees it too, and makes a quick motion with his hand.

  Sam lowers his voice. “Guns ready.” He puts his plate down and stands up slowly.

  Dave’s eyes never leave the shadow man. He snaps his fingers and Sam and two others flank him. Sam’s hand rests casually behind his back on the gun in his belt. I can barely hold a gun. He’s younger than I am. He shouldn’t have the responsibility of one.

  Dave doesn’t have a gun. He looks so vulnerable without it.

  He clears his throat. “Hey, stranger. You want a meal? Come on into the firelight and have a bite.” There’s a steely edge to his kind words.

  The man takes three slow steps forward, his hands raised submissively. The firelight finally touches his face, and his eyes shine like daggers. His gaunt cheeks are lined so deeply that his face looks scarred. His lips stretch so tightly they are nothing more than a white line in his face. When the man is about ten paces away, he stops. He lowers his hands to his side.

  “What’s your name, friend?” Dave asks.

  My eyes flit to Sam. His hand tenses on his gun. The other men in the circle stand statue still. This is a very dangerous situation, and everyone knows it. Before the supply drop, I might not have understood how dangerous. But now my palms are so slick with sweat, I can barely keep a grip on my gun.

  “Smitty.” His voice rings with false friendliness. Am I the only one who hears it? The other men sit down, still eyeing the stranger, not completely off their guard.

  “Welcome,” Dave says. “We always have enough to feed a lone survivor.”

  “You’re nomads?” Smitty asks, shifting his weight, looking at our tents. “No home camp?”

  Dave nods his head. “Yup, we’re nomads. We mostly roam south of here, decided to try up this way for some more game.”

  A gleam comes in Smitty’s eyes. But Sam must read it as curiosity. His hand falls from his gun.

  “Lots of game up here?” Smitty asks.

  Dave nods. “Lots of deer, a few bears.” He’s still stiff. He inclines his head slightly toward Sam. He doesn’t like that Sam let down his guard. I am far enough away that Smitty won’t see me slowly take my gun out of my belt and turn off the safety. The click is deafening in my ears, but Jack doesn’t even flinch.

  “Sorry to take any more of yer time. What I really need is a doctor. My wife tripped a few miles from here. Fell and twisted her ankle good. I don’t know if it’s broken. We were by a city, but I didn’t want to take her to the clinic.”

  Everyone nods their heads. No, no one wants to go to a clinic. Sympathy eases the tension slightly.

  “Told her I’d be gone for a few hours to see if anyone was about.”

  Jack blanches. Why is he so nervous? I lean to him. He looks up at me, fear scraped into his eyes.

  Dave relaxes a bit. “Sorry to hear about that, Smitty.” He ushers the man into the fire circle. He hands him a plate of food.

  “We have someone who knows a bit about medicine. He and a few others could go with you to check on your wife.”

  Smitty looks up hungrily at all of us, his eyes roving. He tries to pick out the doctor among us and says distractedly, “Not too many. I want to get back to her quick.”

  Jack quivers next to me and tries to hide in my shadow. What’s wrong with him? He looks up at me, pleading. He doesn’t dare say anything. And then I remember what he said. Willing to kill for a good doctor.

  My head snaps up so sharply it hurts. Are there more eyes watching us from the trees? Or are they several miles off to avoid a gunfight that will inevitably bring agents? Smitty still hasn’t noticed the two of us back here. How can I tell Dave not to say anything more? Not to let Jack go with only a few men? That there is a bigger gang lying in wait for them? I feel the certainty of it in my gut. If Jack and the others go, we will never see any of them again.

  Dave’s eyes narrow. He knows something’s up, but he can’t focus on it yet. “I’ll send enough,” he says. “Jack, up here please.”

  Jack lets out a soft moan only I can hear. He drags himself to standing. I clench his hand but he refuses to drag me along with him. He will walk to his doom alone.

  I stand behind him, hoping Smitty won’t notice me or my gun as Jack approaches him. Smitty smiles, his white lips curling into a chiseled grin.

  “Thank you kindly, friend,” Smitty says to Dave, not even looking at him. He can’t take his eyes off Jack. “Come with me, Jack is it? My wife is in the woods this way.”

  He gestures to the trees. Dave raises a hand.

  “Wait a minute, stranger,” Dave says, finally starting to come close to what must be nagging him. “I said a few would go with.”

  But Jack is already there, already next to Smitty. He clamps down on Jack’s arm with a white-knuckled hand and with the other pulls a long, vicious knife and jabs it against the delicate skin at Jack’s throat. He twitches the knife once and a small thread of blood slides down Jack’s neck. Jack closes his eyes.

  I see the girl crying in the alley, Red all alone across the interstate, Black Hair with a rifle aimed at Sam’s back.

  Then one thought alone explodes in my brain so strongly that the rest of those scenes fade except for Smitty’s vicious face. He could take this life away from me.

  He turns to point the knife at Dave. Smitty opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead his eyes widen in surprise because with a clap of thunder, I blow a hole in his chest.