Swarmed

by Simone Pond

  “All clear … Julian was a super star in our home. My parents doted on him constantly. I had a lot to live up to. But he never rubbed it in. He looked out for me.”

  “I know what you mean. Most of the time I feel like I’m still lost in my brother’s shadow. I know things would be easier if he were around. I miss him.”

  Noah stays quiet and retreats into his thoughts. He takes out his gold pocket watch and starts flicking it open and closed in his usual compulsive manner. The moonlight glints off of the shiny gold, putting both of us in a meditative state.

  “Julian gave it to me before he died. Told me to keep it safe. He was worried he’d take it down to pawn. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. I was too young to know about drugs or speakeasies. But I remember feeling so special when he handed me his prized possession. I promised I’d take good care of it.”

  The stars get a little blurry through my tears, and I glance away so he can’t see me getting emotional. Now that I know the watch was his brother’s, I understand why he clings to it with such desperation. It’s the only thing he has left.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “What about me?”

  “I don’t know – something about what makes Kalliste Reines tick. Besides finding her missing brother.”

  The sound of my name spilling so sweetly from his lips warms my insides.

  “I’m not sure anything about me will be of interest to you.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “I assure you it is.”

  A painful moment of silence hangs between us. When it’s clear I’m not sharing my secrets, Noah gets up and goes over to his sleeping bag. I’m ashamed I don’t have anything remarkable to say about myself. I can’t even make something up. I’ve spent the last three years chasing after my brother to distract the grief of losing my mother. Trying to bring what’s left of my family back together has been my only purpose, which leaves me with very little to say about myself. Before I can stop myself, the words slip out, and I pray for a gust of wind to blow them into the valley below. “I know when something needs to be loved.”

  “What?”

  “Why I’m so attached to Phoebe. She’s alone and doesn’t have anyone. I know what that’s like.”

  “You have your father.”

  “It’s not the same as a companion. Besides, when my mom died and Achilles left, he was forced to work a lot more. I hardly see him.”

  The fire crackles, making a few sparks flitter upward. I situate myself next to the flames, wrapping my blanket around Phoebe and me.

  Noah props his head up on his elbow. “What’s with all of the Greek names in your family?”

  Surprised by his question, I laugh. “My grandmother was a Greek mythology professor before she fought in the Border War. If you think my brother and I got it bad, my mother’s name was Eidothea. Thea for short. My mother was obsessed with Greek mythology, so I grew up on a hearty diet of violent folklore. I still have nightmares about sea monsters sucking me under water.”

  “Who are you named after?”

  “I’m named after a sea nymph. Irony can be so dreadful.”

  “Is that why you hate your name? Because of the constant reminder of water?”

  “I prefer Kalli to Kalliste because my mother was the only person who could say it right.” I don’t bother telling Noah that he does too.

  “Do you know what happened to your mother? Why she was swarmed before her DOD?”

  I gaze into the dancing flames, growing quiet again. I don’t have an answer to that question. My father doesn’t talk about it. Nobody talks about it. I can recall the memory of her death in vivid detail, but I don’t know why the flies came for her before her time—other than the Technocrats sent them.

  Noah sneezes and turns on his side. “Goodnight, Kalliste.”

  An entire ocean of thoughts swims in my head, and I want to keep talking, but I can only manage to say, “Thanks for saving my life a second time.”

  11

  (9 days remaining)

  The next morning, I wake up before the sun rises. Phoebe yawns and skitters off to the trees to take care of business. I fold my blanket and organize my bag, then start stomping out the fire in hopes to wake up Noah. With only nine days remaining, we need to get started on the next leg of our journey.

  “I think it’s out,” Noah grumbles from inside his sleeping bag.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” I sing annoyingly.

  While I’m waiting for Noah to pack up his gear, I watch the sun blossom to life, creating thin layers of silver and pink along the gray horizon. I snuggle up inside Noah’s jacket, warding off the morning chill. Soaking in this glorious moment as it captures the dawn’s innocence. Solitude and awakening happening simultaneously. It’s hard not to smile from the gratitude swelling in my heart. Phoebe nudges up against my boots and stretches her front paws on my leg, her way of requesting my attention. She climbs into my lap, and we stare out at the valley as the golden rays start peaking through the bands of pastel clouds. Birds begin to twitter. Dewdrops glisten from stalks of grass. Nature is simply doing its thing—organically unfolding. This is how life is supposed to be. The ticking time bomb on my wrist taunts my musings, telling me none of this matters because I only have eight more sunrises.

  “You ready?” Noah interrupts my wandering thoughts.

  “Have been for about twenty minutes, slow poke.”

  He doesn’t give a response and walks down the hill ahead of me, per usual. I put Phoebe into my pocket and follow. We trek through the woods toward what sounds like streaming water. I do my best to ignore what might be looming ahead and stay focused on my footwork. I’ve already proven I’m not the most agile hiker, and it’s best if I pay attention to what’s directly in front of me. Noah reaches a clearing, removes his backpack and leans against a tree with his arms folded across his chest, dismissively. I purposely slow down.

  I reach him, pretending to be winded. “Grueling, huh?”

  “Not as bad as that’s going to be.” He points through the clearing toward a wide and rushing river.

  I shake my head in adamant refusal. “We’ll have to find a way around.”

  “Unless you want to add days there’s no other way, Kalli. We have to cross here. This looks like the narrowest part, and those rocks in the middle will help.”

  A cacophony of fear clangs in my eardrums. How am I supposed to cross a river? Phoebe senses my panic and squirms around trying to claw her way out of the pocket. She tries to leap, but I catch her mid-air and hold her against my chest. Phoebe has made it clear—she isn’t going anywhere near that water. I knew the two of us were soul mates because I don’t want to go anywhere near that river of death either. I scope the riverbank and surrounding area for another way, but Noah’s right—it’s the only way to the other side. I stare into Phoebe’s soft violet eyes and whisper, “I don’t want to go either. But we can do it together.”

  She replies with a ear-piercing meow.

  Noah glances at me. “You realize she can’t understand you.”

  Phoebe rubs her whiskers against my cheek with tender admiration.

  “The hell she can’t. She’s terrified of crossing that river. Frankly, I don’t blame her. It looks too dangerous.”

  “It’s your choice. We can either cross here and make good time, walk a few more days and hopefully find a bridge or a boat, or we can turn around and go home.”

  “These choices keep getting worse and worse.”

  Phoebe rubs her face against my cheek, her way of saying goodbye. I plead with her silently to stay with me, but she’s not having it. I don’t want to say goodbye. I’m tired of saying goodbye. Tired of letting go of the things I love. I don’t want to let her go, but I know forcing her to cross the river is unfair. She could get spooked and jump out of my arms, and the current would drown her for sure. I’d rather leave her behind on safe ground than risk losing her for selfish reasons.

 
“I have to do this, you understand?” I tell her.

  Phoebe purrs and rubs her whiskers across my cheek. The second I set her onto the ground, she dashes into the woods without looking back.

  “You ready?” Noah touches my shoulder, almost with a hint of sympathy. I suspect he’s patronizing me, but something similar to compassion fills his eyes.

  “Well, you were right about that.”

  “What?”

  “She’ll be fine without me.” I pause and look down at my wrist. “I was gonna have to say goodbye sooner or later anyway.”

  Noah winces. “The faster we find your brother, the sooner you can get back home and start contributing to the system. You’re a smart person, Kalli. I know you can extend your DOD if you make an effort.”

  Laughing, I pat his arm. “Start contributing? I have no idea what to do. Work on the rails like my father? I thought getting good grades would give me more time. I planned to continue my education and figure things out. At this point, I don’t give a barrel of bourbon about extending my DOD. My only goal is getting Achilles back home so he can help with our father. I can’t do this on my own any more. I’ll deal with my DOD later.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Maybe so. But it’s the truth.”

  Noah shoves his backpack into my hands. “Just shut up. You’re getting on my back, and I’m taking us across.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You can’t swim. How do you expect to get across?”

  “It doesn’t look deep. I can walk it.”

  “Oh, really?” Noah walks out knee deep and uses a long stick to demonstrate the increasing depth, deeming it impossible for me to walk across. He has at least six inches on me, which gives him a higher probability of being able to walk it.

  “Fine.” I shove my stuff into his bag and sling it over my shoulders.

  “For someone who doesn’t care about her DOD, you’re sure shaking in your boots.”

  “The goal is to not die before I get to Achilles.”

  “Hopefully, I can help make that not happen,” he teases, as he holds out his arms for me to join him. “Come on, you’re a regular outdoors-woman by now, Kalliste.”

  I can’t help but grin when he says my name. Like he’s trying to accentuate a point. Or maybe he’s just being a jerk. Either way, it sounds nice. I step into the river, and the icy water cuts into my shins. Noah comes over and helps me climb on his back. I’m not sure how he’s supposed to carry our stuff and me across the currents, but he’s already saved my life on two occasions, so I’m trusting he can pull it off. I glance back to the woods hoping to say one last farewell to Phoebe—the smart one—but she’s long gone. I whisper goodbye through chattering teeth and press closer against Noah’s back. He adjusts my arms so that I’m holding onto his shoulders instead of his neck.

  “Let your legs drift behind you and kick. That’ll help power us across.” He inches forward, using a sturdy stick for leverage, and begins trudging though the strong current. As each torrent of water rushes against my body, I squeeze tighter.

  “Try not to choke me,” he yells over his shoulder.

  The water gets really deep in the middle. Noah’s head is still above the water, but barely. He keeps moving forward, though his breathing is labored. I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder, trying to keep kicking even though my muscles are burning. The current tugs and pulls. Noah plants the stick into the muddy riverbed, holding on tight and remaining unshaken. A rapid burst of water comes rushing over us, pulling our bags and me backward. Noah’s balance teeters as he struggles to keep his footing. The bag comes off of my shoulders and starts to get carried away downstream. Noah reaches for it with the stick, but the current is too fast. Like a gale force, he fights his way forward, reaching the other side where he drops me onto the gritty sand. Then he does the unthinkable and dashes back into the water.

  “No! Stop!”

  But Noah doesn’t listen. He runs straight into the river, chasing after the backpack. Within seconds the water pulls him down and he’s being dragged. If I don’t do something, he'll either bash into the rocks ahead or be sucked under. I find a long branch and run alongside the river, keeping my eyes glued on his bobbing head so I don’t lose sight of him. The backpack is no longer a concern—Noah is fighting for his life. For a quick second, he’s able to control his body and positions himself to glide into a cluster of rocks. He wraps his arms around one of the smaller rocks and remains steady, but he looks depleted of all energy. I make my way into the shallow part of the river, holding out the branch for him to grab, but he’s too far away. Noah clings to the jagged rock as water pummels against him and he yells something that I can’t understand. I know what I have to do. I have to go farther out into the water—by myself.

  When the water reaches my knees and I’m still holding strong, I have the confidence to inch out a little more. I keep wading forward until the water reaches my waistline, but I’m still not close enough. Noah’s face wrenches in agony, leaving me no choice but to get closer to him. Once the water is up to my chest, the current starts tugging at me, trying to yank me under. I plant my boots along the bottom and hold my footing. This river will not win today. I stretch the branch out as far as I can until it grazes one of the rocks.

  “Grab it!” I yell.

  “You won’t be able to pull me in!”

  “Noah Brenson, you grab that branch this instant!”

  The ragged bark is digging holes into my palms, I hold a firm grip and keep grounding my boots into the mud below. Noah lets go of the rock with one hand and grabs the branch. The weight jerks my body, but I stay rooted in place like a statue while the river whips all around the branch and cuts into my hands.

  “I’ve got you! Bring yourself in,” I shout instructions like I’ve done this a hundred times before.

  Inch by inch, one hand over the other, Noah pulls himself along the branch until he’s out of the main pull of the current and able to stand up. I hold out my hands, bringing him into me. We drag our heavy and exhausted bodies through the last bit of water and topple onto the riverbank. Somehow Noah’s head ends up resting on my shoulder, and I’m too worn out to move it.

  “Thanks for saving my life,” he pants.

  Suddenly, I’m incredibly aware of how close his lips are to mine, and I find a burst of energy to jump up to my feet. I start wringing out my wet clothes. “I suppose I owed you. Now we’re even.”

  “Actually, we’re not, but I’ll let it slide.” He sits up and stares off to the rushing river. “Thought I was a goner.”

  “You probably would’ve gone downstream and been okay.”

  “I don’t know. That river is a beast.”

  “Either way, you’re alive and well. But don’t pull something like that again. I thought we were supposed to stick together.”

  “I didn’t want to lose all of our stuff.”

  “Better than losing your life,” I say.

  “Coming from the girl who doesn’t care if she lives or dies …”

  “Please stop saying that. And what on earth are you smiling at?”

  “I’m just happy to be alive, Kalliste, the little water nymph.”

  If I weren’t so drained or distracted by his wet clothes clinging to his athletic frame, I’d bite back. He catches me staring at his chest, and my cheeks heat up.

  “See something you like?” he teases.

  “You’re impossible!” I snap, turning away.

  “Whatever you say.” He laughs.

  “I don’t have time to be dawdling on this river bank, I need to catch the train south. I know we lost everything, but I’m not turning back. You can if you want.” I don’t mean to sound so defiant and melodramatic, but his smug grin is making me fit to be tied.

  “Turn back now? When I’m having the adventure of a lifetime?” Noah’s smile is genuine and lights up his face. I’m reminded of the boy he used to be—the one I’d play with during our brothers’
sports events or birthday parties. We were more than classmates, we used to be friends. I had forgotten. He made me forget. But that smile brings back an abundance of memories, most of them quite pleasant. I don’t know if he remembers. I don’t ask.

  *

  Without passports or currency, we’ll have to hop a train to Savannah. It’s illegal and risky, but I’m desperate and Noah is … I don’t know what he is, but he doesn’t seem to be worried about the repercussions of getting caught. We wait behind a shack in the train yard for the next freight of boxcars to come down the line. We haven’t said much since the river incident. We’re waterlogged, starving and too exhausted—physically and mentally—to engage in conversation. But I can’t stop thinking about when we were kids and how much fun we had together, before society dug its sharp claws into us and changed everything.

  Noah is sitting on an upside down crate, staring ruefully at his gold pocket watch.

  “Is it okay?” I ask.

  “Water got to it.”

  Though he’s been treacherous throughout high school, I feel bad for him. “I’m sorry, Noah. Maybe we can fix it when we get to Savannah?”

  He tucks the watch into the pocket of his trousers and looks away. I keep quiet because it’s not my business.

  The ground begins to tremor, letting us know the next train is coming. The whistle blows, and steam billows into the sky as the train comes barreling into the yard. The metal brakes screech, bringing the line of boxcars to a halt, and we edge our way toward the tracks. Noah darts toward the closest open car and hoists himself inside with little effort. I follow, making sure not to trip, and jump up to grab the handle and pull myself up. But it’s not as easy as Noah made it look. I’m dangling from the side unable to lift the lower half of my body. I blame my womanly hips for this mishap. My knee bangs against something sharp and metal, and I cry out for help. Noah leans down and grabs my wrists, heaving me up into the car. He ushers me into a small space behind a stack of crates containing apples from somewhere up north.