by Tarah Benner
“What were you thinking?” asked Soren, looking as though Lark’s actions had personally offended him. “You almost got yourselves killed.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Lark cried. “She couldn’t swim!”
“Why didn’t you just wait for me? I could have helped her across, or we could both have —” He broke off, looking shaken and furious.
“I didn’t know where you were!” Lark snapped. “I wasn’t sure you were even coming!”
Soren just stared at her for several seconds, his expression flashing through a confusing array of emotions. At first, Lark thought he might lash out in anger, but then his gaze softened, and his irate expression was replaced by a more sympathetic look.
“Well, I’m here now.”
“Good thing, too,” said Bernie. Lark noticed that her voice lacked the contempt she had detected after Bernie and Soren’s first meeting.
Lark glanced back at Soren, and they both let out a snort of nervous laughter.
Denali took a few cautious steps toward Soren, sniffing the air in interest. Soren held out a hand for him to smell, and Denali cocked his head to the side as if to say, “He’s all right by me.”
Once the tension had broken, Lark voiced the question that would make or break the entire plan. “Did the power go out?”
“Yep,” said Soren. “The fence is officially down.”
“Great,” said Lark weakly. This was it — their only chance.
Soren let out a heavy sigh and glanced up toward the rocky face of the gorge. “Shall we?”
nineteen
Lark
A lead weight seemed to settle in Lark’s stomach as she and Bernie followed Soren up the path to the men’s colony.
It was slow work. The gorge rose much higher on the west side of the river — a steep, rocky incline punctuated by the occasional scrubby pine or clump of sage that had managed to work its way through the unforgiving granite.
Denali cantered up ahead on the path, showering Soren with bits of rock and sand as he skidded along the crumbling edge.
Bernie and Lark were both out of breath by the time they reached the cover of the forest. Inside the tree line, pine needles lay thick upon the ground, dampening their footsteps as they trudged up the gentle slope.
Lark was amazed by how abruptly the landscape changed on the other side of the river. By the time they reached the edge of the woods, they must have ascended at least four hundred feet in elevation.
Her heart hammered as Soren led them through a meadow of tall grass. Despite the cover of darkness, she felt uncomfortably exposed outside the tree line.
Every nerve in Lark’s body was thrumming — poised for action — and even Denali seemed to sense that they were in danger. His joyful exuberance had been replaced by a hunched predatory posture as they sneaked through the whispering grass.
Whatever happened, there was no going back. Either they would succeed and spend the rest of their lives running, or they’d be captured and locked away in some maximum security prison.
For the first time, Lark noticed just how on edge Soren seemed as he led them around the fringes of the colony. His eyes were narrow and focused, and he moved in the same purposeful, guarded way as a hunter stalking its prey.
If the journey up the gorge had seemed long and arduous, it was nothing compared to the walk from the woods to the far corner of the north fields. They darted from one building to the next with their hearts in their throats, jumping at every rustle of wind and snap of a branch.
Lark was sure that a man was going to materialize along the path and sound the alarm, and at one point, Soren threw out an arm to stop them. Nerves jangling, they all ducked down to conceal themselves in the shadow of a twisted juniper and watched with bated breath as a large hunched man ambled toward the latrine.
They waited like that for several minutes, Bernie’s breaths coming in short, uneven spurts, but the man simply returned to his shanty, and they continued at a jog.
When they reached the fields, Lark felt herself relax slightly. With their feet planted in the freshly tilled earth more than a mile from the square, it was far less likely that an inmate would stumble across their path.
Soren found Lark’s hand in the dark, and Lark grabbed on to Bernie. The moon was hidden behind an enormous, dark mass, and Lark had to guess that they were approaching the narrow band of trees that wound around the fields.
The electric fence stood just on the other side of those trees, and for a second, Lark wondered if it had all been a big joke. To be standing there now — less than thirty yards from freedom — seemed too fantastic to be true.
It was so dark out away from the colony that she didn’t see the fence until she was right in front of it. She held her breath as Soren lifted her hand to the cool metal, and when she touched it, she realized that it was all really happening.
“It’s now or never,” mumbled Soren.
“Let’s do it,” said Bernie.
Soren made a noise of assent in his throat, and the panel rattled as he began to climb. Lark felt around for Denali and secured him in his homemade harness.
The shaking fence seemed unnaturally loud as Bernie set off after Soren.
“You ready?” Lark murmured.
Denali let out a burst of air that sounded a lot like a sigh, and Lark took that as a yes.
Finding two handholds in the dark, Lark flattened herself against the fence and hoisted them up.
It was much more difficult than climbing the fence down by the river. Her muscles ached from fighting the current, and every breath was a struggle.
Up above her, she heard what sounded like boots swinging into the fence, and the entire structure rattled. Soren had made it to the other side.
Lark’s body seemed to grow heavier each time she pulled herself up another couple of inches. She didn’t know if she was making the right choice, but she couldn’t stop now. A desperate, undeniable hunger had taken root in the pit of her stomach, clawing at her insides like a mouse trapped in a bottle.
Suddenly she heard a fearful squeak, and she sensed that Bernie was preparing to swing herself over.
“Careful,” came Soren’s voice.
Lark waited as he guided Bernie down after him. Then she heard another pair of boots hit the ground and knew Bernie had made it.
Lark started to climb again, her fingers numb from gripping the metal wire. When she moved to make another push upward, her foot slipped, and all her weight fell onto her arms.
“All right?” Soren whispered.
Lark didn’t answer right away. She was breathing hard, fighting the excruciating pain in her chest and shoulders that was begging her to dump her body back down to the ground.
Denali let out a high-pitched whine and fidgeted in his harness, forcing Lark to fight even harder to maintain her grip on the fence.
“You got it,” said Soren, though Lark could sense his nervousness.
As she approached the top, something light and stiff touched her head. She jumped, nearly letting go, before realizing she’d hit the sleeve of Soren’s jacket slung over the top of the fence.
Lark carefully released one hand and searched for a place where she could grab the fence near the top. Fortunately, Soren’s jacket was coarse and sturdy, and she didn’t cut herself as she rose up and swung her legs over.
It was much too dark to see Bernie and Soren, but Lark knew she was perched twelve feet above them — in plain sight of any guard who might pan a searchlight in their direction.
Lark’s descent was painfully clumsy. And when her boots finally hit the ground, relief washed over her like a warm breeze.
They were standing in the narrow corridor that ran along the exterior of the prison. It was roughly six feet wide, hemmed in by an adobe wall, and completely devoid of trees. Patches of dry grass sprang up at uneven intervals, but most plant life couldn’t survive there.
“This way,” Soren whispered.
Lark released Denali, and he t
ook off at a sprint, clearly irritated about the harness.
Soren started to move, too. Lark followed the sound of his footsteps, and Bernie grabbed hold of her jacket.
As they walked, Lark’s heart sped up. Soren had to be taking them to meet his friends, and she was worried they wouldn’t be as nice and, well, normal as he was. They didn’t get a lot of sweet, mild-mannered girls in the women’s colony, and Lark imagined that good guys in the men’s colony were probably few and far between.
She was so caught up in imagining the type of people Soren might be bringing that she didn’t realize they had company until Denali let out a ferocious bark.
Her lungs seized, and she heard a flurry of panicked voices as Denali ran back to Lark.
“Shh!” she hissed. “Easy.”
Lark gripped Denali by the scruff of the neck, and Bernie grabbed on to her arm.
Now that they were closer, Lark could discern the shapes of several men, all of whom seemed terrified by Denali.
“Fuck!” one of them hissed.
“What the hell was that?”
Just then, one of the men shifted, and the entire party was bathed in light. Lark felt an immediate rush of relief, followed by the urge to laugh at the bizarre group of people Soren had assembled.
A tall good-looking Indian guy was holding Soren’s makeshift grappling hook over his head like a lasso. A pale boy next to him was rubbing his temple in pain.
By the looks of things, the Indian guy had released the grappling hook out of shock and nailed the other guy in the head.
“Sorry about him,” said Lark.
The Indian and the pale boy exchanged puzzled looks, but Lark couldn’t tell if they were more surprised to see her or Denali.
“Give it to me,” growled a thickset guy behind them.
“Axel?” said Soren in surprise.
“Who the hell are they?” the big guy asked in a thick Southern drawl.
Lark bristled. This man had a short bowl haircut, mean, beady eyes, and the type of arms that were simultaneously flabby and very strong. He was the only one of them who looked as though he might actually belong in prison.
“This is Lark — the girl who stole us the pitchfork,” said Soren, nodding at her and retrieving the second grappling hook from his bag. “This is her friend Bernie, and that’s Denali.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said the big guy. “Jus’ keep that thing away from me.”
Bernie made a face.
“That’s Axel the asshole,” Soren told Lark. “The guy with terrible aim is Simjay . . . and that’s Finn, the goat whisperer.”
Axel scoffed, Simjay rolled his eyes, and the one called Finn blushed.
Bernie and Lark didn’t say a word.
“Since when did you decide to come?” asked Soren, still addressing the beefy guy named Axel.
He shrugged. “I’m here now, ain’t I?”
“Good call, bringing the ladies,” piped Simjay. “We’ll need some females when we start our own civilization.”
“Shut up,” said Soren, rolling his eyes. But he seemed almost relieved that Simjay had broken the tension. He glanced around, scanning the darkness for a fourth person Lark couldn’t see. “Where’s Shep?”
“I’m here,” croaked a voice from the shadows.
Bernie jumped about a foot in the air, and Lark felt a sharp pinch as Bernie squeezed a chunk of her skin.
A fourth man stepped into the light, and Lark caught a flash of worry in Soren’s face.
This guy was tall and slightly overweight — more handsome than Axel but with an off-putting paleness that made it look as though he’d never set foot outside.
Soren stared at him, and Lark got an odd feeling in her gut.
“Everything all right?” Soren asked.
The newcomer shrugged. “I just came to see you off,” he mumbled.
Soren’s mouth fell open. “You’re not coming?”
Shep looked at the ground. “I can’t.”
Soren swallowed, a tick in his jaw working furiously.
“I’m getting out soon,” said Shep in a pleading voice. “I’ll be a free man.”
Soren nodded, clearly heartbroken. “Well, you better get moving, then . . . They’ll know we’re gone soon.”
Shep didn’t give any sign that he’d understood. His face was filled with so much pain and regret that Lark knew his change of heart was a big deal to Soren.
Finally Shep nodded, and they all watched as he turned and began to climb back over the fence.
“Right,” said Soren, suddenly businesslike. “You guys still haven’t gotten that thing secured?”
“It’s a lot harder than it looks,” Simjay snapped in a defensive voice.
Soren didn’t give any indication that he’d heard him. He carefully unfurled the long length of knotted bedsheets and held the second grappling hook a few feet from the end. He stepped back from the wall as far as he could and hurled the hook over his head.
It soared through the air in a graceful arc and clattered over the edge of the wall. He scrunched his eyebrows in concentration and pulled until it caught on the wall.
Once it was hooked, he turned his head toward Simjay, unable to suppress a smug grin. “You were saying?”
Simjay mumbled something about the wind before surrendering his grappling hook.
“Start climbing, Axel,” said Soren, stepping into position for his next toss. “When you get to the top, stay there and hold it for Finn.”
“I ain’t goin’ first!” Axel spluttered. “If that thing breaks —”
“It’s not gonna break,” snapped Soren. “And anyway, you have to be first. You’re the strongest. I need you to help the others.”
Axel muttered a stream of what sounded like swear words under his breath but grabbed hold of the bedsheet.
Soren tossed the second grappling hook and missed the top of the wall by several inches. Axel started to climb, his big bulbous head turning pink from the effort.
Lark watched the operation with a feeling of amazement. She had no idea how a man as enormous as Axel was managing to pull himself up a rope made out of torn bedsheets.
She’d had enough trouble climbing over a chain-link fence, and she’d never made it to the top of the rope in gym class. Now that she was confronted with the reality of their escape, she had no idea how she was going to get up and over that wall.
It took Soren several more tries to get the second grappling hook secured. By the time he did, Axel had nearly reached the top, and Finn and Simjay were playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who would go next.
“I’ll climb up first so I can help you and Bernie,” Soren whispered.
“Okay,” murmured Lark, fighting a sudden surge of nerves.
“Don’t worry,” said Soren, correctly interpreting her worried expression. “You can tie the sheet around your waist and use the wall to help you up.”
Lark raised both eyebrows. She still wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it, but she didn’t have a choice.
“I won’t let you fall,” said Soren, giving her a gentle smile.
Lark didn’t say anything, so he grabbed her arm and gave it a squeeze. “Lark . . . you can do this.”
She nodded. Soren started up the wall while Lark and Bernie watched in awe.
He moved at a steady clip, as if he’d been training for this for weeks. His triceps strained with the effort of pulling himself up the wall, but he looked athletic and powerful.
“Damn, he’s pretty,” Bernie whispered as they watched Soren climb.
Lark let out a snort of laughter, glad to have Bernie by her side.
A second later, Axel reached the top of the wall and planted his butt on the bedsheet to secure it for the next climber.
Simjay, who’d been listening to Soren reassure Lark, secured the end of the sheet around his middle and started to climb.
Simjay’s performance wasn’t nearly as impressive as Soren’s. His long legs flailed wildly as he pulled hi
mself up the wall, and several times his grip slipped and he fell backward with a yelp.
Lark tore her eyes away from him just as Soren reached the top. He tossed the bedsheet back down and secured the grappling hook as Axel had done.
“You go first,” said Lark in a shaky voice.
“No. You should go.”
Lark shook her head, staring up at Soren’s shadow. “You’ll be faster. You should go.”
Bernie hesitated.
“Go!” hissed Lark. They didn’t have a moment to lose.
Bernie sighed and pulled their rucksack onto her shoulders. Lark helped her tie the end of the sheet around her waist and gave her a boost to begin the climb.
Bernie struggled to get a good grip on the sheet but then fell into a steady rhythm. She kept her feet flat against the wall and used the leverage to propel herself up the rope. Lark watched her with a tight feeling in her chest. Bernie was light and speedy, but Lark didn’t think her performance would be nearly as graceful.
Her hands fumbled over Denali’s ropes as she hoisted him onto her back one last time. By now he’d resigned himself to being lugged around like a purse, but Lark had a bad feeling that his added weight was going to feel like a hundred pounds once she started her climb.
Bernie beat Simjay to the top, and Lark took a deep breath as the bedsheet fluttered down. The makeshift rope felt thin and fragile, but she wrapped it around her waist and double-knotted it for good measure.
“You can do it,” Soren called as quietly as he could.
Lark sighed. She had never done anything like this, but she had to do it now. She didn’t have a choice.
Gripping the bedsheet as high as she could reach, she pulled herself up and braced her feet against the wall. Hanging there seemed manageable for a moment, but it was taking everything she had.
Fighting the fatigue in her shoulders and back, she fixed her gaze on the top of the wall and forced her feet to move.
Her arms screamed as she followed her feet, and for several minutes, it felt as though she were just inching along.
Denali was swinging from his harness like a pendulum, and she had the sudden horrible image of falling and crushing him beneath her.