by Hunter, Ryan
I couldn’t see what held me, but I wouldn’t lose it. I reached up with my free hand and found a thick strap with a single loop at the end, my right arm slung through the loop. I wrapped my left hand around the strap, just above the knot and heaved. The pressure lessened on my arm but didn’t reassure me. What if I pulled my arm out and my hands weren’t strong enough to lug me all the way to the top? What if I reached the top and couldn’t pull myself over?
I had to start thinking more positive. I could do this, just like the girl from Section Seven:
I will live, she said,
As she climbed out of bed,
Never thinking she’d be saved by a web.
I snickered. That was one poem I’d never recite to T.
I relaxed my feet—thrashing would only take more strength—and pulled my body higher on the web until I could slip one foot in the loop. Pushing my weight upwards, vertigo set in again, the darkness spinning as I fought to remember which way was up. The strap—the strap went up. I followed it, toward the hole, the star became two, and I focused on them as I felt higher up the strap, searching for another loop or knot, anything to support my weight.
My arms shook.
I clung to the strap, my breathing strained, my foot pinched, until I felt up higher and recognized a second knot. I wrapped my hands around the knot and lifted, placing my feet on either side of the knot where my hands had been just moments before.
My legs trembled.
I pulled up another knot, the sky becoming real now, the walls taking on shapes and textures.
Again and again, I pulled and planted my feet. My arms burned and sweat ran down my spine. Still I pushed upward, gasping as my head broke the surface.
Death lay below. Life lay right in front of me, but I could not figure out how to breech the two.
My thighs cramped. My shoulders burned. I had to get over that lip before I lost what little strength remained. I reached higher, where the strap had sunk into dirt and found that it frayed, the weakest point ready to tear free.
I glanced up one more time and wondered if God could hear me as I pleaded for help. With trembling hands, I let go with my left and felt the ground for anything secure to pull me through. A sagebrush grew over the strap, and I wondered if it would hold. I gripped it and let go with my right hand, my feet still cinched together above the last knot, knees barely bent. I scraped through dirt and pebbles, my hand still empty and feet beginning to slip. I reached out further, groping the earth until my hand closed around a stake, the same stake that held the strap. I gripped it with my right hand and heaved with both arms, shoving off with my legs.
My waist cleared the lip, and I flopped my upper body on the ground, wiggling forward, rolling from the hole until I lay on flat on my back on the ground.
My heart surged, thundering in my ears, and I fought to catch my breath. Shock set in as my shoulders shook and a sob started at the back of my throat. I clamped my hands over my mouth. I’d survived too much to break now.
I closed my eyes and pictured T as he’d been beneath the swings, his face inches from mine. His eyes had been so tender, his breaths so shallow—almost nervous. Could he really have been nervous to kiss me?
I rolled to my stomach and pushed to my hands and knees, a pop in my stitches shooting pain through my hand. My legs wobbled and the world spun on its side. I dropped back down and sucked in three deep breaths—in through the nose, hold for three, out through the mouth.
Clouds passed overhead, hiding the stars before returning them. I searched out the big dipper, followed the line to the North Star and back to the south. One shape stood out, a jutting mountain silhouette above the sage brush, juniper and pines.
Finding my mark gave me strength to push to my feet and stumble forward, but what of the marks I’d made getting out of that mine? I turned and did my best to disguise them before following my marker again. T would be waiting for me somewhere. I hoped.
CHAPTER 30
I thought the moonlight would seem bright after the blackness of the mine and it had for the first few minutes—then my eyes adjusted and I started tripping again. I didn’t dare stop though. I had to get to that point I’d mentally marked, that jut in the mountainside that looked like a huge, crooked nose. I focused on it, working my way around bushes and cactus until it seemed just out of reach, then I turned around to find the North Star so I could set a second goal.
The clouds had returned, enough to obscure the stars I needed for guidance. I waited for them to disperse but they hovered and though I thought I knew right where the star should be, I hesitated. What if I went off course? What if T couldn’t find me?
Perhaps he’d already begun searching. I listened. The air reverberated with crickets. No footsteps. No helicopters.
I focused again on the crooked nose and walked toward it. More clouds rolled in, the sky becoming black, nearly as black as the mine.
I sped, searching for the crooked nose against the blackness beyond, feeling the first few drops of rain spatter against my arms.
Lightning scribbled across the sky and the nose stood out, directly in front of me. Thunder followed, shaking the ground and rumbling through my chest.
More drops fell in bursts, easing, then dumping. I ran toward the nose, sure if I made it to that marker I’d find shelter from the rain, but I couldn’t escape the deluge. It pounded my shoulders, slicked my shirt to my body, my pants to my legs until my weight doubled, the wet clothing restricting each movement.
Lightning flashed, and I ducked beneath the overhang that had been guiding me but the wind blew the drops beneath, pressing me to the stone wall where I thought I’d find shelter. I huddled low, arms wrapped around myself, shaking so badly I could no longer rise.
I couldn’t be out here alone. I had to find T. We had to help each other. I pushed away from the wall, stumbling into rain that fell as if from a waterfall, pressing my weakened legs down, trying to bury me.
“T!” I called, my voice lost in the storm.
Thunder wracked my joints, and I squealed. My teeth clattered now, my jaw bouncing so hard I couldn’t close it. Water streaked through my hair, ran down my face, into my eyes—my mouth.
I lifted my face, opened my mouth and drank, the water cooling my throat as it eased into my belly. I scrubbed the webs from my face too, the ones I’d gotten in the mine, my hands trembling. Then I pushed back up to my feet and forced them to take one step at a time, using the rock ledge as a guide to keep me upright, pressing into the storm. The lightning became erratic, the thunder just one step behind, rattling, booming, shaking.
I pressed my hands to my ears, chills setting deep into my bones, and yet I stumbled forward. The scrubby trees offered no shelter. The hills turned to mud. The cliffs became torrents from the runoff above.
The thunder turned to a crackling, and I remembered the machine gun in the valley the night before. The patter of gunfire had been aimed at T. Did that mean they’d found him?
I couldn’t entertain those thoughts. I focused ahead and marched so that the crooked-nosed mountain stayed at my back. The hills rose and fell around me, rocks jutting at a thousand angles. How had T ever thought we could just meet up again once we got out this far? We should have taken time to come up with a better plan.
I stumbled, caught myself on my knees and pushed myself up to my aching feet. I wondered if T gave a good foot rub.
I’d have to ask him when he caught up to me.
The cliff wall ahead had turned into a waterfall, the water gushing from a crack above and washing out the ground ahead. I skirted to my left, wondering if I could squeeze between the rock and the water to continue as I couldn’t go through the water. With my current strength, I’d be washed away for sure. I pressed my back to the rock wall and the water sprayed out enough that it looked like I’d fit. I eased under the falls, water spraying my face and making it hard to breathe. I held my breath and crept under further when the wall behind me fell back, allowing me room to
stumble behind the waterfall and into a sliver of shelter.
My chin still rattled and my hands shook so hard I couldn’t even swipe the water from my face. My clothing clung thickly to my body, making me feel heavy and claustrophobic.
I ripped the pack from my back and placed it back in the cave on the only patch of dry ground I’d seen. Next I removed my shirt, ringing the water from it as it splattered into the mud.
I draped the shirt over the backpack, a bit of chill lifting as I discarded the wet clothing. If that had helped so much, I had to remove my jeans. They were stubborn, clinging to my legs as if they were welded there. I sat on the ground and tugged, turning them inside-out before they pulled free, leaving goose bumps to rise in their place. I flipped the jeans right side out and pushed them under the coursing water, rinsing away the mud before I rang them out and set them on top of the pack. Standing in the dirt in nothing by my underwear and shoes, I rinsed myself with the water, a freezing shower to clean away the sweat and any remaining spider guts I’d accrued in the mine. I bit my bottom lip to keep from quivering and scrubbed. I stepped back from the water, the lightning making it glitter with each strike, and I concentrated.
I had become a ‘terrorist’ by One United definitions, and it was time I developed the strength to cling to those convictions. What I’d been through at this point would seem trivial before I reached my goal, but I would reach it—and I’d do it for my father, Sofi, T, and myself.
I shook my arms out by my sides, my hands still now, my breathing calm. I pulled out my braid and rang the water from my hair before braiding it tighter. I threw it over my shoulder and it slapped against my spine. The ensuing chills left me scrambling for my thin, silver blanket.
With little between me and my blanket, my body heat multiplied and warmed me until I dozed on the ground.
Three hours later the rain stopped. The sun peaked over the horizon and my clothing still sat in a wet pile atop the backpack.
CHAPTER 31
I ate one of the apples for breakfast—the juice spilled down my chin, and I swiped it away with the back of my hand. I sat in the sun, sheltered behind scraggly trees, my clothing on rocks beside me.
With the sun out and the rain gone, I unwrapped my hand. Fresh blood from the pulled stitches stained the gauze, and I flinched when I touched the string that had ripped completely through one layer of skin. It did little good now. I dug through the first aid supplies until I found the tiny medical scissors. Clasping them in my left hand, I snipped, missed the string but agitated the wound. I cringed and tried again, the string cutting cleanly. The string pulled out easier, but still left me sweating when I dropped it to the ground.
I rewrapped the wound and dropped the first aid supplies back in the pack when I remembered T’s note. I pulled out the notebook and map.
The pages were dry, the map undamaged. I felt the backpack again, realizing it must be some kind of waterproof pack. Good.
I set the map aside and held up the notebook, surprised at T’s penmanship. So much easier to read than my father’s, but the words just as hard to take.
Let’s assume we have not found one another—so you’re on your own, at least for a bit. This is your first checkpoint. You can reach it. I have faith in you. If I’m able, I’ll meet you there. If not, keep going. You have a lot to offer the world. If you don’t believe me, read what your father wrote. He knew you well.
I slammed the notebook down and threw the map on top of it. How dare he abandon me! I stalked across the ground and back. I didn’t want to be alone in this. I needed T. I cursed the helicopter and T’s plan.
I kicked a rock and the pain in my toes throbbed. “Stupid cactus,” I muttered.
I slouched back down on my rock and glanced down at the book, picking it up to trace T’s words. He’d been creating a distraction for us.
I understood that he was trying to help us both, but why did he have to write that note as if a final farewell? Had he expected to die along the way? If so, I could kill him … Maybe he’d had to hide out. The only way I’d know for sure was to go to that first checkpoint and pray he’d be there.
I flipped the map open and searched it for the symbol that corresponded to the one in the notebook. The first checkpoint could only be a few miles away and the details were so clear in the book that I didn’t know how I could go wrong. I folded the map, placed it back with the notebook and placed them in the zippered pouch.
My clothing had not completely dried but I yanked and pulled until my jeans fit over my hips and I zipped them in place. As I grabbed my shirt, I thought of T’s inside that bag, dry, warm and smelling of his skin. I wadded my shirt and tossed it into the bag, slipping his baggy shirt over my head instead. I ran my hands over the fabric, smoothing it against my skin, a small comfort in his absence.
CHAPTER 32
I heard the helicopter approaching late in the afternoon. I’d come within a hundred feet of the checkpoint, but had to follow the instructions in the notebook as I passed, and I couldn’t do that while dodging surveillance. I hadn’t yet seen the helicopter, but wouldn’t take the chance of being spotted before I made it through so I found a dense stand of trees and ducked beneath to wait out the search.
The helicopter circled to the south in ever widening circles as they looked for us. It moved out further and further but never close enough for my heart rate to explode. The helicopter finished its patrol over the settlement where we’d stayed, made a fly over the mine shaft I’d escaped from and had returned to the east where T had created his distraction. They hadn’t seen my tracks if they’d already flown away—then I remembered the rain. It would have washed evidence of my struggles away. I rocked my shoulders back and settled deeper into the shadows, content that they wouldn’t find me today.
The machine beat its way across the sky, and though I could no longer see it, I stayed rooted until it silenced altogether. Enough time had passed that my stomach rattled. I had two apples left, but I had to save them for T. I crept from the trees and reoriented myself with the checkpoint. I had to pick up three small rocks and toss them casually on the ground one by one as I walked between a boulder and a gully. I picked up my rocks and strolled ahead. The animals had resumed their chattering, and I paused.
T said he’d meet me here.
The sky had washed clear to a cloudless blue, so calm that even the wind had quit blowing. It prickled my skin, and I scanned the hills around me. If a Freeman was watching, I’d be able to see him too, wouldn’t I? He couldn’t be too far and that meant that the settlement had to be within reach. Maybe they’d see I wasn’t a threat. Maybe they’d already stepped in to help T.
I found no one.
I couldn’t wait.
If I didn’t get to the Freemen, the Alliance would kill me. I marched ahead. “Where are you, T?” I asked as I reached the boulder.
I nearly leapt from my skin when T said, “It’s about time, Brynn. I thought you’d never show up.”
He laid back against the boulder, his face pale and chest red from the sun.
I threw my arms around him and held him. He returned the embrace. His hands tracing my back, easing to my sides until he leaned away and said, “Please tell me you saved me an apple.”
I chuckled. “You’re all about the food,” I teased and tossed him an apple.
He bit into it as soon as it hit his hands, and he couldn’t hide the hunger that claimed him. He bit faster than he could chew until nothing but the stem remained.
Juice had dripped to his bare chest, and I remembered that I wore his shirt. I turned my back to him and pulled it over my head.
As I stuck my arms into my shirt, his hands touched my bare sides and his lips tickled my ear. “I was just about to say that I like the way you look in my shirt, but I think I like the way you look out of it even better.”
I ducked away and pulled my shirt over my head, turning in time to catch his dimple deepen. My cheeks burned and he noticed, the smile widening. He grab
bed his shirt and slipped it on, protecting him from the sun’s relentless rays.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said when he took me into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and my chest swelled.
“Me too,” he whispered.
I laid my cheek against his shoulder and wished we could hold each other longer. “Looks like your idea worked.”
“For now,” he agreed. “How was the mine?”
“Easy,” I lied.
He chuckled. “Liar. I’m glad you’re okay too.” His heart beat through his shirt, and I pulled him tighter, never wanting to let him go. Now that his plan had thrown the Alliance off course, we couldn’t waste the efforts, and we both knew it.
Our arms slipped away and he took me by the hand, leading toward the checkpoint. “Do you have the stones?”
I opened my hand, three rocks in one palm.
“Toss them.”
One at a time I let the stones go, hoping a Freeman actually watched, prepared to bring us into their settlement.
The rocks thunked to the ground, unremarkable, unchanging anything … I looked up at him when my hand emptied and he smiled.
“It felt a bit anticlimactic,” I whispered.
T chuckled. “I thought you’d crave that for once.”
I couldn’t deny the fatigue that pulled at my shoulders and made my eyelids sag. Could anticlimactic mean a nap too? I wanted to know. T grasped my hand, pulled me further up the hillside in silence. The pines grew larger now, interspersed with thin-trunked oaks and towering aspen. Moss speckled rocks dotted the landscape, and the fallen limbs made it difficult to hike unheard. Still, we saw no security officers—or helicopters, and the opportunity to hike relaxed, as we felt like taking a break.