by James Hunt
“You don’t think that hasn’t been running through my mind?” Wren threw up her hands in exasperation. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to help us. I don’t know if Edric will even want to trade for him. I don’t even know if my kids are alive!” A few birds took flight, awoken by the boom in her voice. “I have no idea what I’m doing! All I know is that I have to do something. I have to keep moving. I have to try, Reuben.” She pointed to Ted’s lifeless body. “And if there is a chance we can use him to get my children back, no matter what else it might cost me, then I’m going to take it. That’s my absolute. That’s my compass. And I will follow it until my last breath.” Wren panted, her fists clenched. The cool night air calmed the hot sweat on her skin.
Reuben remained quiet, his eyes darting back and forth between Wren and the ground. Without a word, he scooped Ted up and threw him over his shoulder then continued his trek toward the camp.
Wren followed silently, though her brain was loud with chatter. Her outburst had brought back the blaring doubt that she hoped to have rid herself of, and reminded her how little control she truly had. It was nothing more than a façade, a veil pulled back to reveal the strings on her arms and legs, some puppet master telling her where to go. Helplessness.
The word soured her mouth, and she spit to rid herself of the taste. She’d devoted her entire life to the destruction of that word. It was a hate that burned deep in her bones. It was the same hate that fueled her to go back to school. It kept her awake into the early hours of the morning as she finished her assignments then caught a few hours of sleep before the start of her shift at work. The hate provided a warmth and a fire she desperately needed.
She wondered if Ted had that same hate. When he’d spoken of her drive, their similarities, it had angered her because a part of her knew it was true. Not everyone had that switch in their mind. She could turn it off and on when needed, though she understood how taxing it was to live a life in those extremes. Yet, still, she persevered. She’d made it farther than anyone thought she would, even her own husband.
Doug had told her that she had tunnel vision, and he was right. She loved her job. She loved that she was good at it. She loved the fact that she was responsible for pulling their family out of financial ruin. And even though she saw Doug slipping away, she never reached out a hand to help him. All she focused on was the endgame, and it didn’t matter what was lost along the way. If she had given her marriage that same burning devotion, then maybe he wouldn’t have cheated on her, and maybe they wouldn’t hate being in a room with each other. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She shook the doubts from her mind. I’m not like him. I’m not like any of them.
She watched Ted’s unconscious body swing lifelessly on Reuben’s back as he huffed and puffed through the forest, unsure of how long he’d be able to carry the man. While Ted wasn’t big, he was by no means small. He was nearly as tall as Reuben but slimmer, more toned and agile. She just hoped the hermit would have enough in the tank to help her once they reached the camp. “How much longer?”
Reuben panted heavily between words. “Shouldn’t be… more than… six or seven miles. Should get there… before sunrise.”
“Seven miles?” Wren jogged up and fell in line with Reuben’s long strides. “Reuben, you won’t be able to carry him for that long. You’ll pass out before we arrive.”
“I’ve had worse.” Reuben wheezed, his feet thumping heavily under Ted’s added weight. Sweat collected on his forehead and glistened under the moonlight. His shoulders sagged, and his back started to hunch and curl like a cane. But Wren let him walk. There was no sense in trying to hurt his pride.
The rest of the journey, Wren kept to herself. She stayed a few feet behind Reuben, every once in a while checking on Ted to see if he was still unconscious, but after a while she fell into another haze of fatigue. Most of her energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, doing her best to stay upright. Addison. Chloe. Zack. She repeated the names to herself like a mantra. Keeping them alive in her thoughts, the fuel driving her forward. Just hang on. I’m coming.
A sudden thud cleared the fog from Wren’s mind, and the two shadows that were Ted and Reuben rolled over rocks and tree branches, a dark storm of limbs flailing about. Wren raised her rifle, but the bodies were too close to one another. She couldn’t hit Ted without risking Reuben’s own life. And if she wanted to trade Ted to Edric for her children, then she’d need him alive.
Ted slammed his shoulder into Reuben’s gut, causing the hermit to release his grip, and Ted sprinted into the cover of the forest. Wren followed suit, rushing past Reuben, who struggled to rise from the ground. Wren rounded the cover of the large trunk that Ted had disappeared behind and saw nothing but the light shake of leaves.
Wren squeezed the rifle as if she meant to bend the steel and iron out of frustration and continued to scan the horizon. “Come out, Ted!” She took a step forward, her eyes straining to identify anything human in the darkness. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
“Actually, I have everywhere to go.” Ted’s voice bounced around the trees, its origins as numerous as the leaves on branches. “You’re the one who has only one path to follow.”
Reuben appeared on her left, rifle in hand, scanning the trees as she was. She looked to him for any guidance, any sign of where Ted might have gone, but the hermit was still catching his breath. It looked as though the day had finally caught up with him. Once his breathing steadied, Wren followed him into the darkness. “Give it up now, and I promise Reuben won’t hurt you.”
“I’m afraid that’s a promise you won’t be able to keep.” Again Ted’s voice ricocheted through the forest, providing the same illusion of omnipresence she remembered at the cabin. “Though I don’t know if it’ll be much of a challenge now. It’s harder to beat a man into submission when his hands aren’t tied behind his back.”
Wren shivered. There was no way he got loose. “But it’s still easy enough to shoot him.” Reuben motioned forward, and Wren followed. “We’ve tracked you before. We’ll be able to do it again.”
“Who says I’m running?”
His voice solidified to the right, and Reuben and Wren both aimed their rifles in the same direction, their sights landing upon the trunk of a thick oak. Wren curved her finger over the trigger, and she stiffened her shoulder and arm, forcing the rifle to steady. She went right, and Reuben went left, circling around the tree, her feet pushing aside dirt and grass. She paused just before rounding the final turn, her heart caught in her throat, and the quickened beat of her pulse pounded like a jackhammer.
She sprinted the last few steps and came to an abrupt halt as she stared down the end of Reuben’s rifle. She dropped her arms and looked around. She peered into the darkness, looking for any sign of where Ted had disappeared.
“Wren,” Reuben said, kneeling down into the grass. He grabbed something and held it up for her to see. The rope. “If he’s free, then he’ll be able to move more quickly.” Reuben tucked the rope back into one of his pockets and searched the ground for tracks.
Shit. Wren gritted her teeth and followed Reuben. She kept most of her visual resources to the left, since she couldn’t hear anything on that side, and relied heavily on her right ear to pick up anything that meant to kill her.
“You’re wasting your time, Wren.” Ted’s voice sounded as if it were cascading down from the sky. “You’re in over your head. It’s too much for you and your hound to stop. Even if you manage to kill me, others will come. I’m nothing more than the small tip of an iceberg, jutting from the ocean’s surface.”
Motion blurred to Wren’s far left, and she swung the rifle’s barrel quickly. She fired, the bullet exploding the tree bark as she and Reuben took chase. She poured her remaining energy into the run, but her body stiffened in slow motion. Her legs filled with lead. Her lungs wheezed with every breath. Her body was crumbling right before her eyes.
They stopped where her bullet disfigured the tree, but Ted was nowhere
to be seen. Wren maneuvered the rifle hastily in her grip, swinging it from side to side. “Dammit!” Spit flew from her lips and dribbled down her chin as her frustration spewed through the fault lines of her soul. She squeezed the trigger, the bullet thundering randomly and chaotically into the night air.
“Wren!” Reuben called after her.
She ignored him, pivoting to her right and firing again. The recoil of the shot smacked against her shoulder. She aimed left and squeezed the trigger once more. The hot shell that ejected smacked her cheek, the searing metal burning her skin before it fell to the ground. She pulled the trigger repeatedly, screaming until her throat was on fire and her lungs were about to burst.
“Wren!” Reuben took the rifle from her hands, and she collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving up and down with every breath. He slung his own rifle over his shoulder, his head on a swivel as she sat there dead to the world, then checked the magazine she nearly emptied.
“I’m not like him. I’m not like him.” Wren rocked back and forth, repeating the words to herself like an inmate in an insane asylum. She clutched her legs to her chest, shaking her head. “I’m not like him.”
“No, you’re not,” Reuben said, pulling her up with one hand. “But right now I need you to get a grip on whatever ledge you’re dangling from.”
Wren shut her eyes. “Yeah.” Her shaky voice didn’t evoke the confidence she would have liked, but it was a step back from the abyss. She took the rifle back from Reuben and gave a stiff nod, but whatever foundation she thought she stood upon slowly crumbled at the sound of the slow cackle that whispered through the trees.
“Ha-Ha-HA-Ha-HA-HA!” It lingered on the light breeze that brushed Wren’s face, and she aimed the shaking barrel in what she thought was the direction the ominous clamor originated. “You’re starting to see it, aren’t you, Wren?”
The voice echoed to her right, and Reuben fired at the shadowed figure that darted between the trees. But while Reuben stepped forward, Wren remained frozen in place, paralyzed.
“You and I are two sides of the same coin. You justify your choices with the protection of your children, and I justify mine with the salvation of the world.” Another chuckle followed. “We’re the saviors of the world, Wren.”
Reuben followed the voice, which circled all around them. He spun, rifle in hand, trying to pinpoint Ted’s location. It was like being haunted by a ghost. Wren took a step forward and whispered to herself, her voice as shaky as the legs beneath her. “I’m not like you.” The ominous laughter grew more boisterous, echoing louder and louder every time Wren repeated the words to herself. Her mind flooded with the nightmares that had plagued her restless sleep, encroaching on the sacred ground that was her waking consciousness. “I’m not like you!”
The vein in Wren’s neck pulsed, and the forest grew quiet. The wind no longer carried Ted’s manic laughter. She jumped as Reuben touched her shoulder. He said nothing but pointed toward a cluster of low-hanging branches, swaying and scratching the earth in the breeze.
Wren nodded, her rifle raised, and the two approached slowly, carefully. She squinted into the circle of trees, searching for any movement. Her palms grew slick as they burst with sweat the closer she moved to the branches. Only a few steps away, she drew in a breath. The tip of her rifle penetrated the first few leaves, and she entered the waterfall of branches head first.
“AHH!”
The shout and gunshot came from the other side, and Wren sprinted toward the commotion. She skidded to a stop at the sight of Ted with Reuben in a choke hold, the edge of a knife to the hermit’s jugular. “Drop it.” Ted raised his eyebrows, the air of sophistication he touted replaced with savagery. He applied a small amount of pressure, and the blade drew a trickle of blood. “Do it, or I gut him right here and now.”
“Shoot him!” Reuben said, his words choked by Ted’s vice grip.
Wren kept the rifle aimed at Ted, but with Reuben so close she was just as likely to hit him. “Let him go.” She took a step forward, and Ted dragged himself and Reuben one step back, the knife still wedged into Reuben’s neck.
“You shoot me, and I kill him,” Ted replied. “Drop it, or I do it anyway, and the only person you have left to guide you back to camp is me.” His face reddened with stress and rage, the once-childlike playfulness turned vicious. “You know I will.”
Wren placed her finger on the trigger. When she looked down the sight, all she could focus on was the knife point digging into Reuben’s neck. Ted’s words repeated in her mind like a broken record. All of her justifications, all of her reasoning, all of it made her more like him, more like the very people she condemned in Chicago, and the people like Edric back at camp. She saw Reuben’s decision in his eyes. He wanted her to do it. They both did.
Wren lowered the rifle, and she watched Reuben deflate as she set the gun down and put her hands in the air. Ted shoved Reuben to the ground, giving him a kick in the ribs, laughing while the hermit groaned in pain. “You’re one stupid bitch, you know that?”
Once they’d been frisked and stripped of their weapons, Ted kept one gun aimed at her while he restrained Reuben’s wrists. Once the hermit was secure, he walked over to her, circling her like a shark that had just caught the fresh scent of blood. He knelt down and brushed her hair over the back of her ear. “My men will be glad you’ve decided to come back.” His words were hot and soft against her ear and lingered long after he’d distanced himself.
But as they marched back toward the town, with their own weapons used against them, Wren held on to one thought. I’m not like him.
Chapter 8
Wren tried getting Reuben’s attention more than once, but the hermit wouldn’t even look her way. He kept his vision straight in front of him, his head tilted up, and walked with a limp. She looked back at Ted a few times, and each instance was met with a nudge from the end of her own rifle.
“Too late to turn back now, sweetheart,” Ted said, finally breaking the silence of the past twenty minutes. “I’d stop to let you get some rest so you’re refreshed for your big debut, but I know the boys are eager to see you again.”
Reuben suddenly flung himself toward Ted, but with his hands tied behind his back, it was a cumbersome sight. Ted knocked him down with the rifle before he even got close. Wren stopped and tried to help him up, but Reuben pushed her away. When he lifted his face, his cheek was scratched and his beard was bloodied. When he rose to his knees, Ted kicked him in the back once more, and he tumbled forward, rolling over a few times before landing on his back. Dirt caked into the gash on his face, and the bloodred tinge was replaced with grey.
Ted laughed, but Wren charged him. “Enough!” While she didn’t manage to hit him, her attempt ended his hysterics. He simply smiled, pressed the end of his rifle against her forehead, and placed his finger on the trigger.
“It’s not polite to shout, dear.” He shoved her head back with the weapon’s barrel, and Wren felt the hard scrape of the metal run across her forehead. “Now, let’s move.”
Wren complied, and she helped Reuben up, who continued his silence. Whatever psychological wound had opened in him wasn’t one that she was prepared to fix at the moment. The only thing that mattered now was making sure they didn’t return to the town. But with Reuben injured, no weapons, and her barely able to keep up the pace Ted had set them, she didn’t know how. She looked to Reuben, casting her eyes down to his gait, the limp in his left leg glaringly apparent. “We need to stop,” she said, calling back to Ted.
“We’re not stopping. I want to make it back to town before sunrise.”
Wren gestured to Reuben. “He won’t make it at this pace. He’s hurt. Let me take a look at him.” It was all she could think of to do. If she could get close to him, then maybe they could come up with something.
“Learned some new tricks, did you?” Ted asked.
“A few.” Wren wasn’t sure if Reuben planned it, but the moment the words left her mouth, he stumbled to his kne
es. She stopped, stepping between Ted and Reuben. “We’ll make better time if you let me look at him.”
Ted paused, examining her like a rancher purchasing cattle at auction. Once finished, he moved close enough for her to smell the stench of his breath. “Make a move, and you’ll have to crawl your way back to town.” He gestured toward Reuben then backed off.
Wren helped Reuben to a rock, Ted close behind, the gun on them the entire time. Just before he sat down, they exchanged a look. She set him down easily on the rock, and he cradled his ribs with his arm protectively, sucking in short, quick breaths. She placed her hand over the same area, and he shook his head. She furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of the request. She glided her hands to his shoulder, and again he shook his head.
“My hip,” Reuben said, the words coming out like a whisper. “It hurts on my hip.”
She fumbled her fingers over his hip and felt something hard over his waist, but when she lifted his shirt, she only saw a belt.
“Yeah,” Reuben said, nodding. “Right there.”
She ran her fingers over the area but felt nothing but the stiff leather.
“No, lower.” Reuben grimaced, doing his best to sell the ruse.
Wren glided her nails under the belt, and Reuben nodded, grunting. She felt a small bump, and when she picked it with her nail, she felt something give way. It was no bigger than her thumb, and she quickly concealed it in her fist, hoping Ted hadn’t seen.
“Well?” Ted asked, tapping his boot impatiently. “What’s the diagnosis, doctor?” He spewed the words condescendingly, complementing them with a light chuckle.
Wren stood. “Nothing feels dislocated.” She looked Reuben in the eye. “But we need to slow the pace so it doesn’t worsen.” She tucked the small object between the coarse rope and the tender flesh of her wrist before she turned around and was met with the stare of a rifle barrel.