The Burn

  Chapter Fourteen

  I slump to the ground as Smitty slumps, the gun falling with a scuttle of pine needles. I tremble all over and can’t stop the shakes, even when I wrap my arms around my legs and hold them so tightly I ache all over.

  Then Dave is there, talking to me, but I can’t understand what he says, because I can’t hear him. I moan and babble in my tongueless language, and tears course down my cheeks. He strokes my hair back from my face and picks me up in his warm arms and carries me away from the dead body fifteen feet from where I lay. He shushes in my ear and cradles me like a child.

  I don’t want him to see me, to see the person who could do such a thing. I smash my hands against my face, and all I can smell is the gun shot on my fingers. The cry chokes in my throat, and I throw myself away from him and into the trees.

  “Terra! Come back!”

  And vaguely I hear someone else say, “Get her right quick. No telling how close the others are.”

  A quiet part of my brain knows what this means, knows it is a warning, but the rest of my brain tells me to run. This man I love could never love someone like me. A liar. A tongueless freak. A murderer.

  As I run, I realize that my feet ache and I can’t go any farther without screaming at every footfall. I slow down then, enough that two huge arms grapple me and tackle me to the ground. I struggle, but I’m too exhausted to fight long. I lay limp.

  “Terra. Are you okay?”

  Why does he ask me so slowly, enunciating every word?

  The tears start again. I roll from him and hug my legs and wonder if in a second I will run again. He would chase me. I wonder if we will repeat this for the rest of our lives.

  Then he says something so unexpected it knocks all thoughts of running right out of me.

  “The first time is always the hardest.”

  I can look at him, then, if those words mean what I think they do. He nods.

  “When I was twelve. Some scout for a gang found my mom in the strawberry fields alone. Thought he was far enough from the school for anyone to see him. He didn’t realize I was coming out with some dinner for her. I shot him as soon as I saw him. And when he fell dead, I shot him three more times.”

  He is close enough in the darkness that I can see his face, and it looks haunted.

  “I think about it every day. The scary part is that I’m not sorry.”

  He eases away from me then, giving me space to let my sobs ease. His face is ghostly in the dimness, but I know he is real, and that reassures me. He stands and offers a hand. I take it. He wraps an arm around me.

  “I can’t say it’ll get better. It doesn’t. But you come to terms with it.”

  I’ll have to believe him. He weaves us back through the trees. I step carefully next to him, not sure whether I can trust my aching feet. When my boot hits a rock, my foot explodes with pain, and I slump to the ground again.

  “You okay?” Dave asks, suddenly there. I nod. I can’t tell him about my feet. It will give me away in a heartbeat.

  When we make it back to the fire circle, all that remains of Smitty is a faint depression in the ground where his body fell. Thinking his name makes me nauseated. My gun is nowhere to be seen. Jack stands at the edge of firelight, waiting for us.

  Dave doesn’t take his arm from me, but Jack hugs me and holds me tight. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you for listening.”

  He doesn’t want to let go, so Dave eases me out of his grasp. We walk away toward my tent, and Jack watches us, unable to move.

  Dave unzips my tent and helps me sit. “I’ll sleep right out here tonight, Terra. I won’t be far. I’ll just go get my bedroll, okay?”

  I nod numbly, not sure if I want anyone around me right now. From the sound of it, we are all murderers. How can we ever live with each other? How do they live with each other every day? The empty pit in my stomach spreads to my chest. Then it will spread to my head. If it reaches that far, what will be left of me?

  I left the colony to find a place I belong. Instead I find I am capable of unspeakable violence. Would Jessa even recognize me now?

  I shudder and crawl into my bedroll, pulling it up above my head and curling into a ball. If I curl myself up tight enough, maybe I can contain the nothing that seeps into my blood.

  Leaves muffle the sound of Dave settling down in his bedroll just outside my tent door. I watch his shadow on the far side of my tent, as he props himself up on one elbow to gaze at the fire. His shadow glances back every few minutes. Is he hoping I’ll call to him, or reassure him I’m alright? I can do neither.

  I feel like one of the dangler fish bumping into the colony windows. Shining a beautiful light that leads to nothing but ugliness and teeth, and I am completely blind. What am I doing here?

  I’m an outsider. A liar. I’ve begged for their food and shelter and friendship. What have I given them? The only thing one of them said thank you to me for, was for killing a man.

  I cry again, sobs wrenching out of my chest. I gasp under the weight.

  My tent door opens and Dave stands there, uncertain what to do.

  “Can I come in?”

  I can’t see him from under my bedroll, and he probably doesn’t know what to do with an unhinged murderous girl.

  I can’t do anything but let the searing cries work their way out of me. Dave scoops me up, bedroll and all, and holds me.

  “Shh,” is the only thing he says as he rocks back and forth. He strokes the bedroll where my head is and shushes me until I hiccup with the fading sobs and fall asleep.

  I wake up with my eyes crusted shut, and my cheeks ache with dried tears. The gray light of early morning shines through my tent walls. I thought the world had shattered last night, but here it resumes. Faint murmurs surround me, the sound of the other men waking and starting a fire, warming food for breakfast, making the sparse, whispery conversation of early risers. The world is sharp, and I notice everything.

  A weight hangs over my shoulders. Dave lies next to me, his arm draped over me and his fingers loose with deep sleep. His brows furrow slightly, and his mouth twitches. A sigh of air escapes his lips. Even in his sleep he shushes me.

  I am still here; the nothing didn’t swallow me whole last night. And I realize I’m wrong about something. Jack told me thank you for saving his life, but he also thanked me for listening. I listened to him. Has no one else ever done so? I remember the way he begged me with his eyes, how I was the only one he looked at. Has he told no one else of the gangs who murdered for medical treatment? That doesn’t seem right. I’ve been here only a matter of days. Why would he tell me?

  I roll my stump around in my mouth. Why did Nell tell me the things she did? And Dave? And Mary of all people? Because I can’t speak and they can’t hear any judgment from my lips? I tried so desperately to be a friend to them that they surely don’t see any judgment in my eyes. Maybe I am good for something to these people.

  I shrug Dave’s arm off and sit up. I pull my knees up. This is new to me. In the colonies, your worth was determined by how well you could perform a task. I had failed five vocations. I felt pretty worthless. But I never realized I have this kind of talent with people. A talent for friendship and trust. That’s surely worth something. Especially to people who are hunted, who fled dangers they would rather not speak of.

  Dave stirs and stretches his long limbs. His eyes focus and he looks over at me. What he sees must surprise him, because he blinks several times before a smile turns his mouth up.

  I smile shyly back at him. With this new clarity about myself, I realize just how much I need him. The thought shocks me. It burns me from my toes to the ends of my hair, and I almost break out trembling with it.

  Dave’s lips part, but he doesn’t speak. I nod to him encouragingly.

  “You’re okay?”

  I nod again.

  “You’re sure? You were pretty unhinged last night.”

  I rest a hand on his to reassure him.

  “I’ve seen
that happen before—the first time someone has to do that.”

  I appreciate the way he says it—that it isn’t something someone would want to do.

  “But most people aren’t quite as shaken up by it. By the drop, too. Like you’ve never seen anyone killed before. That’s pretty uncommon, you know.”

  And I want to live here, in this world where it is common to see people killed. I may be a good listener, but I may also be crazy.

  “I wish you would tell me all about life in Arizona. It sounds a million times better than up here. It sounds like it could be pleasant.”

  I shake my head. True where I come from there isn’t murder. But it is a prison.

  I grab his hand. With the world too clear and focused, I want him to know me. Even the colony. But I drop his hand abruptly. This is what I promised, this is the price: no one will ever really know me. He doesn’t see the chill come over me. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ears.

  “How did you know about Smitty? How were you the only one who saw it coming?”

  It takes a few minutes to spell out the story that Jack told me.

  “I never knew it was that bad. Poor Jack.”

  Dave wraps an arm around me and leans his head against mine.

  “Well, thank you. For listening to him and watching. And doing what needed to be done. It’s not something you ever want to think about again. But thank you.”

  My heart flutters at the intimate touch, but I don’t reach any closer to him. I can’t trust myself or my longing.

  Dave stands up and unzips the tent.

  “Smells like breakfast’s almost ready. You want some?”

  I expect the hollow place in my stomach to lurch with all this thinking about what happened last night, but it remains quiet. I am ravenous. Dave offers a hand and helps me up. I wince as the pain stabs through my feet.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod and signal just a moment to him. He leaves.

  I dig around in my pack for my first-aid kit. I can’t ask for precious painkillers for my feet. But my first-aid kit has some, and I’ll need them to get me through this hike. I gulp a couple down and stuff the rest in my pocket.

  Breakfast is fried salted fish and hard cookies studded with dried strawberries. I gnaw on a cookie and sip hot water. Jack walks slowly over to me.

  “Hey, Terra.”

  He shifts his weight side-to-side, one hand holding his plate, the other scratching his arm uncertainly. His dark brown hair is ruffled from sleeping.

  I glance at the log next to me, and he’s grateful for the invitation. He hems for a moment, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. Only to open and close several more times. I’ve never seen him this unable to articulate himself. He’s usually so thoughtful with his words. He finally closes his eyes.

  “I hope when you look at me, you don’t see him.”

  And I know him is Smitty. No. I put a hand on his shoulder. He pats it awkwardly, but I see the relief in his face.

  “I really like you, Terra, and I think we could be great friends. I don’t want one person’s horrible intentions to ruin that forever.” As he speaks he holds my hand more firmly. His eyes glitter.

  He jumps when Sam is suddenly by us, clearing his throat. “I realize you two are having a heart to heart. But is there room for me?”

  Jack grins and makes room. Sam gazes straight into the fire.

  “I have your gun. Dave says not to give it back unless you want it.”

  I don’t want it. I will never touch another gun for as long as I live.

  “I didn’t think you would.” Sam looks down at his plate and pokes a cookie with his fork. His next words are softer. “I’m sorry about last night. I should have been more careful, should have seen what Smitty was. It should have been me.”

  I ache for this boy who would have killed in my place.

  Dave comes over and sits on my other side. He glances at all of us. “Seems I leave for a minute and I miss everything,” he says cheerfully.

  Jack laughs again. “That’s what you get for leaving her.”

  “I’ll have to work on that.”

  My heart flutters again. Dave smiles.

  “If the weather holds, we’ll make it to the hunting grounds tonight. This cloud cover makes the traveling easy and not too hot. As long as it doesn’t turn to rain, we’ll be quick.”

  Sam leans in to me. “The trail’s a little wider the further we go. More dirt. As long as it doesn’t rain, it’ll be hard-packed and easy to walk.”

  Dave whistles, and all heads turn to face him.

  “Anyone else still need breakfast?” Everyone shakes their heads. “Then let’s get packed up and head out.”

  I wash out the pots in a stream just beyond a thicker copse of trees. A person-sized pile of rocks lays about twenty feet from the opposite stream bank. I turn from it before I can ponder too closely on what it covers.

  The painkillers help my feet, and I refuse to take my shoes off to inspect the damage. I don’t want to know. I can’t see the sun through the trees, so no one can rightly say what time it is. I hear a helicopter fly overhead. We all pause. I look up, but the cover is too thick. We keep moving.

  This leg of the trip is harder than yesterday’s. The ground rises, and we rarely go downhill. The terrain is rockier, although even the rocks are hard to see for all the moss and growth. We rest by a small cluster of boulders that have managed to avoid getting blanketed in anything green. Jack tells me we are about five miles from the hunting grounds.

  When no one is looking, I take two more painkillers from my pocket and swallow them.

  By the time we reach the hunting grounds, I’m practically sleeping on my feet. Dave stands next to me, hand on an elbow, guiding me along, ready to support me if necessary.

  He tries to take my tent from me and set it up, but I wave him off. I need someone, I need to be alone. I confuse even myself sometimes. My mind is foggy with too little sleep and things I try not to think about. I need to keep my hands busy.

  “Oh, come on, Terra! You’re exhausted! Doesn’t help that you’re emotionally exhausted, too. Let me at least help.”

  But I shake my head and try to recreate the way he did it the night before. When I finish, I’m proud of it. As I leave it to go eat dinner, I ignore the way Dave scurries around the tent, pounding in the stakes I forgot about.

  That night, one of the men brings out a small metal rectangle and blows into it as he slowly slides his cupped hand across the other side. I grip Dave’s arm.

  “A harmonica,” he says. The word is unfamiliar. I definitely haven’t learned this one before—I would remember. Nothing prepares me for the wailing, hauntingly beautiful sound. Dave grins. “You’ve never heard one before?”

  I shake my head and watch, transfixed on the sound and the way the man who plays it closes his eyes and leans into the music. Then Sam’s sweet voice rises in song.

  “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” he sings. “That saved a wretch like me.”

  I’ve never heard it before, and it pierces my heart. Mr. Klein told us about the superstitions on the Burn, what they call religion. He explained how the colonies were founded by scientists and they left all superstition on the surface before coming into the ocean. Mr. Klein called it a great loss.

  I don’t really understand the meaning of the words—I have no context. But something this lovely and assuring has to be more than just mere superstition. It has meaning beyond just the words and the music, I’m sure. I would willingly spend the rest of my time on the Burn just to figure it out.

  Dave leans over. “Terra, are you crying?”

  I touch my cheek and realize I am. He gazes at me tenderly. I touch my heart. Dave nods.

  “It’s a beautiful song, an old song, and nobody sings it like Sam. That song has carried a lot of us through a lot of things.”

  If Jessa had asked me just a few days ago if a song could have helped me through anything, I
would have laughed at her. But in a matter of moments, I’ve changed my mind. The emptiness in my chest eases as I listen.

  I lean closer to Dave, the spell of the firelight and music working into my soul. He doesn’t pull away. Instead he wraps an arm around me, his hand gently pushing my head onto his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you found us,” he whispers. Then his lips brush my hair.

  He sleeps just outside my tent that night, and I ache for the weight of his arm over my shoulders. But I won’t ask for it. I can’t make demands because I cannot be completely honest with him. This will be his choice.

  Most of the men are gone by the time I wake up, leaving a smoldering fire and just me, Jack, and one other to see to the camp. I miss Dave already.

  “We’ll clean up breakfast and get things ready for whatever the others kill,” Jack says, stacking plates to take to a stream and wash. I gather up the utensils. “We need to find a good place to string them up to drain.” He tries to say it all casually. I can tell what happened two nights ago still haunts him almost as much as it haunts me. But he doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about. He keeps himself busy. We’re alike.

  I take his hand. Drain?

  “Didn’t you go hunting where you came from?”

  It’s different.

  He shrugs. “It probably is. We need to let all the blood drain out of the carcasses. Then we’ll carve up what we need and carry it back to the settlement.”

  My stomach lurches as I think about all the blood that will soak the ground. An image of a pile of rocks by a stream flashes through my mind. Jack holds out a hand. He notices how pale I am.

  “But don’t worry—you don’t have to do that part.”

  I nod gratefully and take the pile of dishes from him. I will be the designated dish washer. I will cook. I will do anything—as long as I don’t see more blood.

  The day is punctuated every now and again by a gunshot in the distance, but they happen so infrequently that I’m startled every time I hear one. Our other companion fills the cook pot with meat and vegetables to make stew for dinner. He is a largely quiet man who rarely speaks. But we enjoy his friendly silence as he smiles and nods, and he is the hub to our activities around camp.

  The camp is a small meadow. A fire pit occupies the center. It is a large fire pit, larger than the one at our camp last night. The stream is close, providing washing and drinking water. And scanners stand guard around the perimeter, placed every twenty feet. I grab Jack’s hand and write a question.

  “Oh, we found this place quite a few years ago. Dave’s dad decided we needed a place to go hunting. He didn’t want to rely on the government food drops—you’ve seen why. He didn’t want anywhere near the settlement because he didn’t want gunshots giving away where we were. So they scouted around a bit and decided on this place. We come every few months. As you can see, the government also realized we come here.” He nods to the scanners. “So far they haven’t set up a video feed, so we’re okay for now, as long as no one with a tracker comes with us.”

  I hadn’t noticed the scanners last night, but now I feel their eyes on me. They look like headstones in a cemetery.

  I barely notice when the gray sky deepens toward evening. I am helping Jack throw some lines of rope over a heavy tree branch just barely within sight of our camp when I notice the dark shadows emerging from the trees and converging on the fire. I tap Jack’s foot and point.

  “Good, they’re back.” He clambers down from his perch in the tree and we thread our way back among the trees to where the hunters are returning.

  Between them, they carry a small black bear and a deer.

  “Not bad,” Jack says, smiling. “Terra and I set up some lines in the trees over there. Our usual tree must have fallen since the last time we were here, but those look strong enough.”

  The hunters take the game to the trees. I watch as the hunters take the rope and deftly tie coils of it around the animals’ hind legs. Then they work together and heave the animals up into the trees so their heads dangle down. Sam takes out a long glinting knife and stands before the bear. I’m about to turn away, but I am not quick enough. In one swift motion, he slices the knife across the animal’s throat and a gush of blood runs down the bear’s head and to the ground. I close my eyes, but I still see it burned red in my eyelids. I stumble back through the trees.

  Dave is there by the fire, lifting the lid to the cook pot. He watches me, concern on his face.

  “Had enough blood for a while?”

  I nod. He scoops himself up a plate of stew. He offers me some, but I shake my head. My stomach roils. I know my appetite will come roaring back with a vengeance and all the dinner will be gone by then, but right now I can’t stomach it.

  That night we sit around the fire and sing. I hum along as Sam sings that song again. Dave settles close to me. Jack sits protectively on my other side—my unofficial guardian. I couldn’t have lost him even if I tried, I think. Not that I mind. Jack is sweet and kind and loyal. But Dave’s presence pulls me like a magnet.

  Dave senses it too, and he asks Jack to make sure there aren’t any other animals too interested in the carcasses. Jack wanders away, and looks over his shoulder once at me. Then he disappears behind the trees.

  “Hmm. I think he’s come to admire you,” Dave says.

  Jealous? I write in his palm. He laughs. He pushes his blond hair away from his forehead and glances over at me. The fire flames dance in his eyes. He smiles sheepishly.

  “Yeah, a little.”

  I lean away a fraction and raise my eyebrows.

  “Okay, maybe not in an angry, ’I’ve got to pound his face in,’ kind of way. But yeah.” He traces the shape of my cheekbone with his fingers. His fingers are rough with calluses and tug slightly at my skin. I shiver under his touch. Then he leans forward, and my breath catches in my throat. Does he hear my heart pounding against my ribs? It is ready to burst out of my chest; it’s almost comical to me. But my lips won’t smile about the joke—his are too close. His eyes close slightly, covering the flames whirling across the blue. Then his lips brush mine gently, just enough to make my lips burn.

  I open my eyes and he’s sitting up again, looking back to the fire. How long have I been here with my eyes closed? But no one is even watching. Jack hasn’t returned yet and the others still sing and talk softly in the fire glow. Only Sam looks over and winks once. I just smile back.

  But Dave says nothing to me for the rest of the night.