We laid him on the sled I’d made and re-splinted his leg. He slapped me away but he was weak, and I could easily overpower him. Pelo and Careen took the first turn of dragging him, and he bitched and moaned over every bump.
We had to walk swiftly, but we didn’t have to run. Rash and I took the reader and scanned ahead. We were making good time and Pietre had gone quiet, which I should have taken as a warning.
Five kilometers in, Rash and I heard a creak, crash, and a squeal from Careen. We ran back to them and found that Pietre had managed to flip the sled. I kneeled down and tried to lever him back in, but he was playing dead. His arms and were legs leaden, just the pure hatred radiating from his eyes gave away any signs of life.
“Leave me,” he spat, a sheen of sweat filming his nasty expression. “I’m slowing you down.” I shook my head, and Rash helped me roll him back on. We took what little rope we had and tied him to the sled. It was humiliating, and I felt sick for doing it, but he wasn’t thinking straight.
Something broke in his expression when I tightened the last knot to secure him. His face slipped down, and I saw a boy. A scared boy.
I smoothed his hair from his face and he rolled into unconsciousness.
*****
After five hours of trekking, we stopped for a break. The light fell to dark, reflecting our mood. The promise of an icy night in the high, clear sky. We huddled in a semi-circle of rocks, eating and drinking from the supplies we had left in the cave. I volunteered to take first watch while the others slept. We were running on fumes. We had to rest.
I propped myself up next to Pietre’s sleeping body and gripped the torch. As the sky veiled into night, I flicked it on, slicing through the misty air searching for floating eyes. Nothing. The woods were as quiet as death. It didn’t feel right.
My eyelids were heavy. My eyes begged for respite. They flicked up and down like shutters, until they eventually gave up and closed. I slept.
A hand clamped on my thigh like a pincer woke me suddenly. “You’re supposed to be on watch,” Pietre whispered harshly.
I grabbed the reader. “How long was I out?” I asked, as I found the clock, sighing in relief when I saw I’d only been asleep for five minutes.
“You can’t let them sleep too long. You have to get to the train line,” Pietre murmured softly, his hand still on my thigh. I shifted my leg and, when he didn’t move his hand, I used the torch to push it off like unwanted driftwood.
“I know,” I snapped, irritated. We all knew what was at stake.
Pietre turned his head to stare at me. His eyes shone like a wolf’s in the half-light. “You know I’ll never forgive you.” He snatched the torch from my hand and pulled his pant leg up, revealing a sharp lump the color of an eggplant, and almost the same size, protruding from his calf. Flesh was mangled around the lump, and a white splint of bone protruded from the wound. I gasped in horror before I could stop myself.
“The healer,” I stuttered.
“It’s too late for that. It’s infected. I’m going to lose my leg. You should have left me,” he said, “What good am I to anyone now?” A sob escaped his lips before he could cough to cover it up.
I thought about comforting him, patting his shoulder and telling him he was still useful, drying his tears and holding him. It wouldn’t work. I would have to believe the comforting words to say them and right now, he was as useless as he thought he was.
I straightened my back and looked into his eyes. “I never thought of you as the self-pitying kind, Pietre. Get over yourself. You’re alive, and I’m not going to apologize for keeping you that way. If you’re as tough as you’ve always pretended to be, then losing a leg won’t slow you down.” I took a breath and sighed. “You can hate me. I don’t care. Aim all your insults and death stares my way. If it helps you get over this, then fine.”
I crossed my arms, my heart beating fast, scared I had been too harsh. I looked down over the tip of my nose at him. His eyes softened a tiny bit, kind of like going from a diamond to a crystal, still pretty damn sharp.
He sighed and nodded his head. “I still can’t forgive you,” he said lackadaisically.
I stood up and threw him the torch, challenging him with my eyes. “You’re a Survivor, Pietre,” I said, “so… survive,” and I gave him the next watch.
The light, plastic feel of the train beneath my fingertips was the most comforting sensation I’d had in weeks. I was going home. Home meant Orry and Joseph, and even if I didn’t know exactly where we stood, the idea of seeing them was too overpowering to be sensible about. I swept my hand over the doorway and found the pad to push to open the door, enjoying the oohs and ahs behind me as Rash and Pelo’s eyes widened in amazement.
Rash exclaimed, “Wow! That’s freakin’ awesome.” I had to laugh.
Pelo tipped his pointed chin at Rash and said, “See what a civilization can achieve when they’re not controlled, when their creativity, their ingenuity, is not suppressed and depressed until they’re nothing but mindless worker bees, servicing a queen they neither see nor believe in?”
Was this how he spoke before? The thinnest waft of a memory got in my eyes. I swept it away. “Save it for the classroom, Mr. Bianca,” I said snarkily. He looked hurt for a second, but moved on to immersing himself in tactics and timing with Careen. How many people did we need to pick up and when? These were the things I’d barely paid attention to on the way over. I was too caught up in my self-inflicted misery over Joseph, and my apprehension towards facing my mother, that I’d let the others take responsibility for everything else.
I crowded in on Careen and Pelo, listening to the details. “We must arrive at each destination at the designated time. Once we pull up, we can only wait one hour at each stop.” She rattled off to Pelo. I imagined a typist tapping these facts away on the keyboard inside her brain.
One hour… I stopped walking and let them leave me behind, the cold wind churning my hair did nothing to distract me from the seriousness of the situation. I clasped my hands together and squeezed, praying the others had made it.
Rash and Pelo lifted a snarling Pietre into the front car with me. His cutting eyes never left mine, glaring like he hoped I would evaporate under his stare. He was taking me at my word, aiming all his fury in my direction. It was going to be a long and silent journey, emotions bulging against windows that wouldn’t open, like dark clouds trying to escape.
Rash jumped out to join Careen at the front of the Spinner. Standing in the orange gravel, one hand on his hip, the other stroking his chin, he imitated Pelo’s stance, legs wide, and eyebrows low over his eyes. His face cracked into a wide grin. “So… how do we fire this baby up?”
*****
I wasn’t ready for what was coming. The brewing storm, the way things seemed to be surging towards an unknown end. But I was caught in the net with the rest of them, struggling like a fly in a web. Each event spurred us on. Because what do you do when the wolves are snapping at your heels? When the taste of blood is in your mouth? You run. You fight.
“Should I have left you to the wolves?” I asked as we sped towards home, the dirty mist of another endless morning lifting slowly. It could have stayed there. Underneath was nothing but brown grass.
“Yes,” he sneered and then faltered, shifting and wincing in pain. A little sympathy edged in, fighting hard against my distaste for his self-pity.
“You don’t mean that but, if I’m wrong, I’d be happy to throw you from this moving train,” I said with a saccharine smile. Pietre grunted. Rash pinched the point of my elbow and raised his eyebrows, asking me to ease up.