by Anna Carey
Page 41
When the sound finally disappeared I rested against the desk, my body renewed with purpose. The troops were looking for me again. I had to keep moving.
Heading for the door, I stepped on a pile of green papers strewn across the tiled floor, covered in sand and dust. I picked one up that read 100, an old man’s stern face on it, realizing, suddenly, that it was a piece of old money. I crumpled the bill and threw it down, leaving it in the dust once more.
I moved quickly, past the stone backs of stores and markets, the Dumpsters behind them filled with bones. I kept running, running, until I was away from the broken stoplights and the shells of cars overturned on the side of the street. The cramped town opened up into desert.
The flat terrain stretched out in front of me, with only short bushes on the side of the road, hardly enough for cover. I stripped down to my yellowed T-shirt to camouflage me against the dry, cracked dirt. Checking the map one last time, I started across the plain, toward a cluster of houses in the distance. The red rocks climbed up to the sky, the clouds brushing past every so often. There was no sign of the Jeep. The houses can’t be too far, I thought to myself. Just go. Don’t look back.
The sun peeked over the horizon, warming my skin. I tried to imagine Arden there, or Pip kicking up dirt as she hummed a song, but their ghosts never appeared.
I took another scoop of jam, letting the bitter raspberry seeds pop beneath my teeth. It spurred me forward, the pack lighter on my back, my steps faster as I kept on toward the houses and certain cover. The windows, the doors, the playground in the yard, slowly came into view.
Then I heard the engine again. It must have stopped on the road behind me, waiting. I sprinted, pumping my arms as hard as I could. I cut across the broken pavement, to where the brush was thicker.
But the car sped up. I could hear it after me, gaining, closing in. I pumped my arms faster, my rubber soles beating the pavement, but it was no use. There was the sound of the car slowing, then stopping, the door opening, and footsteps padding on the road. My legs burned with the effort. My body slowed, but I kept pushing. I didn’t want to be caught like this, out in the desert. Not now, not after how far I’d come.
“Stop! Stop!”
Tears trailed down my face, cutting through the thin layer of dust that coated my skin.
“Eve!” The man’s voice yelled again, but I didn’t turn back. Then his hand gripped my arm, pulling me down into the thick brush. I didn’t struggle. My limbs went numb as the brute turned me over onto my back. I covered my face.
“Eve,” the voice said again, softer. “It’s me. ”
I opened my eyes to the face I’d imagined so many times. Caleb smiled, his hair tickling my forehead. I pressed my hands to his cheeks, wondering if I was having a waking dream. His skin was firm against my fingers. I wasn’t sure whether to cry or laugh.
Instead I just hugged him. Our bodies pressed into one; our arms pulled the other nearer and nearer still, until nothing was between us, not even air.
“You heard my message?” I finally asked.
Caleb lifted his head. “I wanted to reply, but I couldn’t. I knew the troops were listening and were already on their way. It was the code from—”
“I know,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “It was the wrong one. ”
“We have to go,” Caleb said, helping me out of the dirt. A rusted red car sat on the road, puttering on the pavement. “They’re still searching for you. ” We started toward the car, a boxy thing with VOLVO written across the front. Thick yellow foam billowed out of a gash in the front seat.
As Caleb pressed a pedal beneath the wheel, my body relaxed into the cushion. The ache in my legs subsided. Behind us, the dust blew up, and the world disappeared into a perfect blanket of orange.
Chapter Thirty-one
AIR BLEW IN THE WINDOW, RUSHING OVER MY SKIN AND tangling my hair. Golden dust coated Caleb’s face, his brown dreadlocks, even the soft skin behind his ears. “How did you find me?” I asked.
We rode over a shallow hole and the car lurched sideways. “There’s only one stop on the Trail in Sedona. ”
“So you were at the house. You went in the cellar?” I dug my fingers into the ripped cushion. The backseat was strewn with clothes, rusted, unmarked cans, and two mud-caked knapsacks.
Caleb nodded, his gaze meeting mine for a brief moment.
My throat closed. I had seen the soldier lower his gun, I had seen him aim. But I had to ask anyway. “And Marjorie . . . was she . . . ”
“They were gone. Three of them. ” Caleb rested his hand on my arm. His T-shirt was split at the seams, revealing a patch of sunburnt shoulder. “There was blood leading out the trapdoor, from the house. I followed it to the woods but I lost it a mile in and I was certain,” he paused, adjusting his seat belt, “that they had captured you. I was about to turn back when I saw something on the ground—a woman’s shoe. I found the other one a hundred yards north and kept going in that direction, searching the sides of the road. ”
“Did you see Arden?” My hand pressed against my chest, steadying my heart. “She saved me. She left to distract the soldiers. ”
Caleb rubbed his finger on the wheel, working at some invisible spot. He paused, then shook his head. “I didn’t. ”
I wiped at my eyes. “She said she’ll meet me at Califia, but . . . she’s on her own now and I—” I broke off, thinking of her somewhere in the wild, her pale skin blistered in the heat, miles still from the road. Or worse, in the backseat of a Jeep, the property of the soldiers, being taken back to School.
Caleb squeezed my arm. “She’s tough. As long as she stays hidden, she’ll be okay. ”
We turned in to a broken town, the sun disappearing behind the distant hills. Cracks zigzagged along the pavement, rattling the green coins piled in the car’s console. The vehicle, beaten and weathered, kept going, and I felt safer with each mile that brought us closer to Califia.
“About Leif,” I started. Caleb held the map over the steering wheel, its corners pressed under his palms. We sped past empty storefronts and knots of brown, shriveled shrubs. “It wasn’t . . . ”
“I know,” Caleb said quickly. “You don’t need to explain. ” He set the map down and looked into my eyes. His lips were red from too much sun.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. ” My voice cracked as I said it. “You shouldn’t have—”
“I wish I hadn’t run away,” Caleb replied, his voice louder than before. He slowed the car and turned to me. His green eyes were wet. He ran his finger over his brow, rubbing the dust away. “I thought about that day so much, wondered what would’ve happened if I’d been there when that animal showed up, when he threw you two in the back of that truck. ”
“Where did you go?” I pulled my legs in front of me and curled into a tight ball. “What happened to you?”
Caleb rubbed his temples. “I went into the mountains. I wanted to ride until my thoughts were clear. When I came back to camp the boys were so upset. Benny . . . ” Caleb sped up again, swerving around the holes filled with thick patches of weeds. “Benny was the worst. ”
“Where are they now?” I saw Benny’s smile when he read a word correctly. Silas standing in the middle of their room, wearing his tutu, a cowboy hat cocked on his head.