The Burn (23 page)

By the time I see the dark school, I hear a voice
calling my name.

“Terra! Are you out here?”

I stop. Dave stands outside, his hands cupped to his
mouth.

Dave wants me home. Red comes down the steps behind
him. Should I go to them? What can Dave offer me? What can he offer
me now that the mystery of his rescuer will be revealed, and all I
can do is look on? The settlement will never be home again.

But I put one foot in front of the other and walk
forward into a pool of light cast by one of the open doors. He sees
me.

“Terra! Where’d you go?”

He grabs both my shoulders and looks into my face. I
must look haunted. He frowns.

“You’re okay?”

I can’t move. My feet ache, my head hurts, and I’m
falling apart as he stands there holding me together. He won’t be
able to hold me together much longer.

“Where were you?”

I point behind me. He looks past me, disbelief on his
face.

“I would have thought with the way your feet are you
wouldn’t be up for a walk. But whatever. You’re back now.” He gives
me a hug.

I stiffen. I breathe the scent of sweat and smoke,
strawberries and worn cloth. I won’t get another embrace like this,
I’m sure. I soften and cling to him for only a moment—the only
moment I will allow myself. The dull ache in my chest catches at my
ragged heartbeat. I close my eyes and etch him into my memory. Then
I pull back.

“Come on, let’s go in.” He drapes an arm over my
shoulder.

Why does he make this so difficult? Why does he put
an arm around me like I am one of them? I shrug his arm off. I
can’t let him do this.

I can go home to the colony. I see a girl crying in
the shadows. A face ground into the gravel. A man with a hole in
his chest. I can go back to the ocean and let the water wash away
these nightmares forever.

Mary waits for us inside. I can’t look at her.

“Oh, you found her.” She surprises me by sounding
genuinely glad. As much as I am a traitor and a threat, she doesn’t
hate me. She worries about all of us. I am too tired.

“Dave, can I talk to you for a moment?”

My knees buckle. This is it. He will be gone forever.
The metal cylinder is icy through the thin fabric of my pocket.

“Sure.” He looks back at me, worried. He must see how
pale I am, how hollow my eyes are. But Mary pulls him around and
leads him out again, out to the back where a small fire burns and
several of the men are busy tending the smoke houses.

I walk to the cafeteria, now dark, and pull the
drapes back just a sliver from a window. Mary pulls Dave a little
aways from the others, just out of earshot. But I can still see
their faces in the fire glow. Dave, with whiskery cheeks and
impatient mouth, Mary with surprising softness in her eyes. She
really is in love with him.

They sit down on two folding chairs, side by side,
the chairs just barely toward each other. Mary stares at him, but
Dave looks at the fire. Then her mouth starts moving rapidly. His
eyebrows shoot up.

Part of me wishes to be out there. Covered by the
tree just behind their chairs, I could hear their words and see if
Dave believes her. I sag against the window. The stronger part of
me knows I don’t want to hear any of it. Seeing is bad enough.

Dave’s brow furrows in deep lines. He thinks hard
through what Mary tells him. The disbelief wavers on his face—he
wants to believe her. When I see that hope, I know I’ve seen
enough. I know what the outcome will be. This almost home of mine
is crumbling.

I leave the window. I go out the cafeteria and up the
stairs. Jack waits for me outside Dave’s room.

“I wanted to change your bandages before bed.”

He shrugs his supply pack off his back. I wave him
off. I need to be alone. I have so much to think about I feel like
my brain will explode. He sees it on my face.

“It can wait,” he says, putting the pack back on.
“You know, when I need to be alone, there’s a place I go to. Want
me to show you?”

His face is open and smooth and kind. I nod.

“Over here.” He opens a door marked “Janitorial
Closet” and ushers me inside. At the back behind a metal shelf is a
ladder.

“This goes up to the roof. I like to sit up there and
think sometimes. I feel like I can get up away from everyone, get
up above all the stuff that goes on down here.”

I put a hand on his, a small thank you. He leads the
way up, opening the roof access door.

There is a flat spot up here on the roof, big enough
for the two of us. An ancient cooling unit stands guard on one
side, long rusted and broken. Jack leans against it.

“I do need to change those bandages before you sleep
tonight. When I’m done, if you don’t mind, I’ll just sit on this
side and you won’t even know I’m here. I’ve been wanting to come up
here ever since we got back.”

I’m about to protest the intrusion. But I realize the
silent companionship would be nice. To not feel completely isolated
in this world I created for myself.

And then the tears come. I’m surprised how I don’t
even care that Jack is here. He changes my bandages without a word,
working quickly, methodically, and tenderly around my abused feet.
Then he leans back against the metal. He keeps his word—he is quiet
and unobtrusive and just stares at the moon that glimpses down at
us in occasional cloud breaks.

I cry myself to sleep, curling down on the hard roof
top. The last thing I remember is Jack draping a blanket on me so
softly I think I must be dreaming.

I wake to gray morning light. The west is still dark,
and to the east the water of the sound looks like a rumpled metal
sheet. Jack lies under a blanket alongside the big box of rusted
metal. His lips twitch in his sleep.

I pull the metal cylinder from my pocket. I open it
quietly, glancing once at Jack to make sure he still sleeps. The
small syringe shines inside its cocoon. It is filled with pale
yellow liquid. A plastic cap covers the needle. The needle would
slide so easily into her flesh. It wouldn’t be hard at all. I close
the cylinder with a faint click.

A rush of hope comes over me. I could go home. I
could escape the terror we all live with here. No more waking
nightmares, no more blood.

Without waking Jack, I climb down the ladder. My legs
and back are stiff from sleeping on the hard surface, but my feet
are surprisingly good. I still twinge when I walk, but I don’t
limp.

At the door to the janitor’s closet, I pause. The
hall is empty. The settlement still sleeps. I take a deep breath.
Then I clench my fingers around the cylinder, the skin of my palm
digging into the seam where it opens and closes.

Now. There will be no other chance.

As I walk down the hall, my boots thud so loudly in
the early morning hush, I’m sure someone will open a door and
wonder what I’m doing. I pause outside Dave’s door, my fingers
hovering over the handle. I don’t want to face what I’ll see. I
close my eyes. I promise myself no more nightmares. I turn the
handle without a sound.

I barely make out the human shapes in the darkness.
Dave and Mary sit at the top of the mattress, leaning against the
wall. They must have fallen asleep talking. His arm drapes around
her shoulder, and her head nestles into the hollow between his
shoulder and chest. Her arm rests across his stomach.

I almost choke as I look at them. The love is as
palpable here as the warmth of their sleeping bodies. They just
needed some miracle to get past their own complications. I provided
that for them.

But I promised myself no more nightmares. As long as
Mary lives, I will never be at home anywhere.

I kneel down next to the bed. Mary lies one foot from
me. I watch her chest rise and fall. A strand of hair falls across
her face and her slow breath weaves the hair with the light from
the open door.

I open the cylinder. The syringe gleams. My hand
trembles as I lift it from the case. It is feather-light, lighter
than the gun I used to kill Smitty. It could be a toy next to that
weapon.

I pull the plastic cap off the needle. Mary sighs and
sinks deeper against Dave. Even in unconsciousness he pulls her
closer. They are in love. They always have been. Love is like the
ocean. I blink that I can compare something like love to the ocean
I grew to despise. But it is. It is like the ocean I could see
outside the sub window as I came here. I could see for only a few
hundred feet, but it reaches for miles.

Watching them I realize I’m not in love with Dave.
All I thought about was what he could give me. I haven’t given him
anything. He gave me home and family. I gave him lies. As I watch
them sleep, I understand the truth.

The needle is a lethal inch-long dagger. Only eight
inches to close the gap, raise the sleeve of Mary’s shirt, and I
can return to the colony. But I know my promise of no more
nightmares is empty. This will be one nightmare I will never wake
from if I kill Mary as she sleeps in Dave’s arms.

His eyelids flutter and his lips purse slightly. I
can’t do this to him—can’t do this to them—now that they’ve found
each other again.

I hear footsteps in the hall. I quickly sheathe the
needle and jam it into the cylinder and back into my pocket. As I
slip through the door, I chance one last look back at them. They
belong together.

In the cafeteria, everyone gathers for breakfast.
Nell sits by herself, waiting for Red. I sit with her. She smiles
at me, but I see the worry in her eyes. I’m not sure why until I
notice Dave and Mary two tables over. Mary leans her head in close
to his and Dave has his arm slung about her.

I look back at Nell and try to smile. She pats my
hand and doesn’t ask any questions. I’m grateful. She think I’m
broken hearted, and I am. Just not for the reason she assumes. I
will never see Jessa again, and I couldn’t even tell her I love her
last night.

I sip my tea. Nell leans over to explain she has been
experimenting with herbal teas to give some flavor to the boiled
water. She frowns when she tells me she hasn’t created any really
good blends yet. These are the details I will miss. Then Red joins
us.

“But it’s still better than hot water,” he says. He
too looks over at Dave and Mary. It seems everyone in the cafeteria
glances their way periodically. Mary surprises me by not meeting
any glances, not soaking in the surprise from everyone. She is only
interested in Dave.

“Mary’s sure, well, different this morning.” Red puts
his fork in his mouth. Nell looks quickly at me, but I carefully
arrange my face to look uninterested. She squints. She isn’t
convinced.

“Yes, dear. Love will do that to someone.” She kisses
him. He turns to put a rough hand on her cheek.

“Powerful thing, ain’t it?” Red says. He smiles at
her and turns back to his breakfast. They don’t say anything
more.

I realize I don’t belong here anymore, not where I
can’t even be a friend to Dave without an ache in my chest, not
where Nell and Red are so in love that their love colors the world.
I’m not ready for that, I don’t trust it yet, not for myself. I
still need to come to terms with the terror of the Burn.

I can’t stay here. I need to carve out my own life
and not wedge myself into everyone else’s. I realize that now. If
I’m to be happy on the Burn, I need to make it mine and not just
insinuate myself on it. I need to stop grasping at straws.

Maybe that was my problem all along in the colony as
well. I tried to fit where they put me. But I never put myself
anywhere. I was never proactive. But I can change. I have a
choice.

After breakfast I go upstairs. I make sure Dave isn’t
in his room. Just as well. I grab my pack. I’m out the front doors
before anyone stops me.

“Terra?”

The one voice that could make me hesitate calls out
to me. I try to keep going, but he calls me again, urgently this
time.

“Terra, please.”

I stop. I can’t cause him anguish. I turn and see the
pained look on his face and my heart aches. Too many goodbyes. He
can see the look in my eyes, the pack on my back, the way I walked
out the door without looking back.

“You’re leaving?” He brushes the blond hair from his
forehead. It stands up wildly.

I nod. His eyes dart around, searching for
something.

“I don’t understand.”

I reach out to him, touch his arm. I need to tell him
I’ll be okay. This is the only way I’ll be okay. His fingers graze
mine. Even that small touch sends shivers up my arm. I have to turn
around before I change my mind.

“Why?”

I raise an eyebrow. Surely he knows why. Is
everything so black and white to him? We are friends, I should
stay, even though he’s in love with Mary. That’s just the way his
honest heart sees the world.

I couldn’t be happy
, I spell out on his hand.
He holds my hand a fraction of a second too long.

Why is he doing this? The tears start in my eyes
again, and they put him out of focus, turning his edges softer,
softening his lips and his smile. They make him look unreal. Maybe
this is the way I saw him from the beginning, when I should have
just seen him as he is—a confused teenager, like me.

“You weren’t the one who rescued me that day.” He
wipes a tear from my cheek. “But you did save me, you know. I’ll
always love you for it.”

I ease myself free then. This isn’t helping me leave.
I just look at him one last time and turn south past the oca
fields.

I’m not sure where I’m going, just away. I half
expect to hear helicopters beating through the sky, but the morning
calm envelopes me and clears my head. After I’ve walked for an hour
or so, I come to the sound. It glints gray at me, chopping in the
wind. The wind blows my hair into my face and stings my eyes. I
stare at the water.