The Burn (17 page)

Two other men stand behind him. They hold long
objects in their hands. I pray they aren’t guns. One of them slaps
his against a palm. Clubs, then.

We stop, and Dave raises his gun in front of him,
aimed right at Black Hair’s chest. The smile slips off his face.
They hadn’t seen our guns.

“Where’d you get that? Not included in the standard
supply drops. I could report you to an agent, you know. You’d all
be dead by morning.” He isn’t smiling any more, but he isn’t
falling back, either.

Then Mary steps next to Dave and points her gun as
well. The men step back.

“It’s a regular army, isn’t it?” Black Hair sneers,
but stands aside.

“He’ll report us,” Mary whispers. “He’ll report us
and then they’ll come.”

“A risk we’ll take,” Dave says. “I’m not risking
gunshots so close to the city. Not unless they attack us.”

Dave walks stiffly and we follow. We make a wide
berth around the three men. Dave never takes his gun off Black
Hair. We walk down under the pier and slip into the water. Sam
breathes a heavy sigh when he sees us, and heaves us into the boat.
I never noticed how young he is—than me. How long has he been down
here hiding while Black Hair stood up there waiting? Sam starts the
motor and guns it out from under the pier and into the deep
water.

As soon as we’re free from the pier, Black Hair bolts
and jumps down into the water. What is he doing? Then I hear the
roar of another motor. The boat pulls alongside him, and he pulls
himself in. This boat isn’t dull gray like ours, it’s silver and
all reflections.

“They’re following!” Sam shouts.

“Just drive! But stay close to the city. He still
doesn’t know what direction we came from. I don’t want them
thinking we’re escaping west,” Dave says above the motor. “We’ll
take care of them.”

Red and Mary both have rifles out and steadied on the
side of the boat. I can’t even grip my gun properly. I hunker down
against the side, put my gun next to me, and cover my ears. It’s
all too loud: the motors, the sea spray, the gun fire as it
explodes across the water. I jar against the side of the boat as we
lurch across the waves. I’ll have bruises in a few hours.

Then comes a whir faster than I can breathe and I see
a bullet hole in the side of the boat where one hadn’t been before.
Right next to my head.

“You okay?” Dave shouts. I can’t answer. I could be
bleeding and I’d have no idea. He turns from me and shoots back at
the boat that comes closer and closer as we bob and weave along the
shoreline.

The silver boat is right behind us and Sam panics. He
turns the wheel too sharply. Red, Dave, and Mary are all thrown
into the middle of the boat, a tangle of limbs and no one can reach
a gun. I look back, and in the darkness I’m sure the shadow
standing in the other boat is Black Hair with a rifle pointed right
at Sam’s back.

I fight back the nausea and pick up my gun. My hands
shake so badly I can’t even aim straight. All I want to do is close
my eyes and fall asleep. Wake up in my white, sterile bed in my
temperature-controlled quarters. To forget this ever happened.
Aiming a gun at someone’s chest is so wrong, I can’t even
breathe.

“Shoot him!” Red bellows, still grappling for his
gun. “Terra, just shoot him! Pretend he’s a bag hanging in a
tree.”

But pretending this man in front of me is a bag
hanging in a tree is even more wrong than aiming the gun at him.
How did I get here?

Then my finger brushes against the trigger and all is
silent around me. I hear only the motor from the other boat and the
water lapping the sides of mine. My finger arches against the
trigger and I’m about to let out my breath one more time and
squeeze when a shaft of light brighter than a comet tail shines
down on the silver boat. I shield my eyes and look up. A
helicopter.

Instinctively I drop down, and I’m covered with the
gray blanket. Sam has cut the motor and we drift away, rolling
across the swells, all of us breathing heavily under the cloth. I
peek from under an edge.

“Lower your weapons.” It’s the same amplified voice
as at the supply drop. Does it always sound the same?

Black Hair and the others point their guns at the
helicopter and fire. It’s a death wish, but I guess being out on
the water at night, guns in hand, already doomed them. A machine
gun lets out a spattering of firework pops and they all fall away.
Soon their boat falls away as well.

The helicopter hovers for a few minutes more,
watching the boat sink beneath the water. Then it turns toward the
city and the chopping whir fades into the night. The water and sky
all around us are silent and dark. All I can see are the
helicopters circling the city in the night, their lights searching
for more death.

We drift for a while. None of us wants to start the
motor. We lie in the bottom of the boat, all of us lined next to
each other like fish on a platter, and none of us wants to move.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the burst of light from gunfire.
It burns my eyes.

After an eternity, after my back has ached for so
long it’s numb, Sam finally pulls back the blanket. Seattle is
small on the horizon. The lights from the helicopters still circle
the sky, but they are too far away. The motor roars to life and we
sprint for home.

Dawn just turns the sky gray when we bump into the
shore. Jack is asleep on the ground, wrapped in a blanket. As soon
as the boat scuds on the rocks, his eyes fly open and he stands up,
rushing forward. Red laughs. Now that we can laugh.

“Easy there, son.”

Jack laughs too, embarrassed. But then he hollers.
“Nell, he’s back!”

Nell appears and races to Red’s arms. She buries her
face in his shirt and he holds her so tightly I think they might
never come apart again. He nestles his check into her silver hair.
Then he cries.

I didn’t know Red could cry. But now he does. Now
that we’re away from the city and the agents and the people and
we’re safe and there’s time for crying. Dave and Mary turn away to
give them some privacy. Dave hands Jack the supply pack.

“I hope it’s all in there. We should go in and
catalog it and put it away.”

“Yes, first thing. Then you need to talk about a
hunting trip. Everyone in there is about to go insane with worry. A
hunting trip is a distraction. They all need that right now.”

Dave nods and walks with Jack into the school. I’m
left with Mary. She no longer looks at me with cold fury. She is
merely wary.

“Come on, let’s go in. I’m starved.”

Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but someone scrounges each
of us up a plate. Stale bread, over-ripe strawberries, and salted
fish, and I can only taste the ghosts of flavors. The five of us
who went on the supply drop sit at a table and eat, while everyone
else grabs a chair and circles us. They all want the story.

Between bites, the others take turns telling. I just
look at my plate and eat one mechanical bite after another. My
stomach clenches, and I’m glad I can’t taste the food. I shiver
when Red tells them his version—when he was across the impossibly
wide chasm of ruined cars, and we wouldn’t be able to get to him in
time if something went wrong. The rest feels like a dream to my too
tired body. An ugly dream. But I feel the ache in my spine, the
bruises on my shoulders, and I know it is not.

I am shaken from my stupor by laughter. How had this
started? I didn’t even notice the mood had shifted.

Dave stands before all of us, mock-holding a rifle,
aiming along its invisible barrel. Jack runs the length of the
room, and then Dave makes a shooting noise and Jack falls.

I am horrified. What are they playing at?

“That was how I got that grizzly on the last trip.
Sure he was a small one, but it was a grizzly. Who’s coming
tomorrow?”

Hunting. Not murder. I sigh. I need to go somewhere
quiet for a few hours and clear my head. I leave the cafeteria and
the laughter, the hunt planning, the hugs, and the relief that is
so strong I can touch it with my hands.

I climb the stairs, and I think I might collapse
before I make it to the top. So I slump onto the landing and sit,
looking back at the cafeteria doors and the light that spills
through them and the voices that echo up to me on the stairs.

I lean my head back on the railing, and finally the
tears slip out. I am safe, I am fed, and now I can cry. I’m about
to lie down when the door swings open. Jack sees me.

“Mind if I join you?”

I wipe my face hard with my hand and shake my head. I
don’t really want to be alone. The last thing I need is to be alone
where all I see is a black boot smashing a face, a girl crying in
an alley, and Red walking all alone under the watching
buildings.

Jack sits next to me and props his hands on his
knees.

“I’ve never been on a supply drop. I know I’d be no
good.” He says it matter-of-factly, like he doesn’t even mind if I
don’t ask him why.

“You’ve never seen anything like that before, have
you?”

I shake my head and the tears fall harder. A sob
catches in my throat. Jack puts a tentative hand on my
shoulder.

“It never gets easy. And that’s a good thing.”

I lean my head on his hand and cry for a while
longer. When the tears have dried up and the gasps between sobs
have subsided, he stands and offers his hand. “Come on, I’ll help
you up to bed.”

I’m grateful for him as he guides me up the stairs
and into Dave’s room.

“There’s still an hour or so before the sun’s up. Try
to sleep.”

But I can’t. I am afraid of the dreams. Afraid to
even close my eyes.

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.