Chapter 16 Carver
She put everything in her bag neatly. Precisely.
Perfectly. Everything was in the exact place it was when they received the bags, with her personal bag on top.
How?? It took a few minutes, but Carver realized he couldn’t figure out how Clara managed to keep everything so organized.
A couple years before, he might have tried to stay more organized, but now he just didn’t care.
His only priority was to keep Clara alive.
To hell with how his bag looked. Sure, it was far harder to tie off than Clara’s was.
And sure, his clothes wouldn’t be as presentable, and the creases in the map would be annoying.
But it was still readable. And fine, he cared more about his bag than he was willing to admit.
It was irrelevant. He wouldn’t repack or ask Clara for help.
He stuffed the dried food packs into the top, and after two tries was able to close his bag. Clara pursed her lips like she wanted to comment, but maybe he was only assuming her to be judgemental.
“Ready?” He asked her.
“Ready,” she gave him a hesitant smile.
His eyes caught on the small split in her lip, but she hopped down from the train before he commented. He noticed her chewing on it, and wondered if perhaps she wasn’t quite as confident as her status implied. Or, was it too much to hope he was the one who unnerved her that much?
The ground was hard as they began the trek.
They both kept a steady pace, and it wasn’t long until the train faded from their view.
In front of them, the landscape was mostly untamed, browning grass on the edges of the tracks, forest on either side.
They walked next to the train tracks, the unspoken agreement it was the fastest and most direct route.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the abandoned town as he tried to make sense of it all. Command’s intel would have known the town was abandoned. At least they should have. If that intel was bad, what else was bad? Or, had Command kept them in the dark intentionally?
“So,” the lamest conversation starter ever, but it was all he had. “How’d you get nicknamed the Eclipse?” Carver hiked his bag higher on his shoulder, ignoring the sun beating down on his head. At least it wasn’t raining. Small comfort.
She almost tripped, but quickly regained her balance. With a shrug she answered, “How does anyone get a nickname? They earn it.”
Brilliant. Completely enlightening. But he played along. “Okayyyy, how did you earn your nickname?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked. Duh.” He kept his tone light, contrasting the harshness in hers. She was so annoyingly frustrating, but he could be the bigger person. He would be the bigger person.
“Just drop it. Okay?”
Carver weighed the options in his mind and decided dropping it was not the one he preferred. In fact, he didn’t mind the idea of pushing her. Maybe he would learn something. “And if I don’t?”
“Maybe you’ll learn the reason.”
He sighed dramatically. “Believe it or not, I asked because I’m trying to learn the reason.”
Her hands clenched at her side, and Carver wondered if there was a darker reason behind her name than what he suspected.
“Have you ever killed someone?” Her voice was soft, and barely carried to him over the wind and sound of their boots.
He mussed his hair, already uncomfortable with the direction this was headed. “Um,” he chuckled nervously, and she glanced his way out of the corner of her eye. He had to be honest then. “No. I haven’t.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and somehow Carver felt like he had given the wrong answer.
Wasn’t there only one right answer to that question?
But in times of war, perhaps there was valor in having a body count.
(The death one, not the other one.) He only knew a few spies who could claim a body.
For their sector, killing someone meant there had been a mistake.
They weren’t trained as soldiers, or war machines.
They were trained in espionage. Carver didn’t have to ask to know that Clara’s sector functioned differently.
“I was only six months into the program,” she whispered, not slowing her pace. He leaned his head in her direction to hear her words, and was grateful the wind was calming. He waited for her to continue, but moments passed and she didn’t say anything.
The forest tapered off, and Clara paused, “Sounds like a river.” Carver stilled to listen, and could barely hear the sound in the distance.
He nodded, “We should fill up our bottles.”
They left the train tracks, and trekked down the slight incline to reach the river in the forest’s valley. Though they could hear the louder sounds of water, presumably from a waterfall somewhere upstream, the water here ran far more gently.
He filled his water bottle, adding a drop of iodine and sealing the lid. The stream looked clean enough, but he wasn’t willing to take the unnecessary risk. Clara did the same.
Carver splashed water on his face, enjoying the frigidity against his sun warmed skin. Clara perched on the balls of her feet a couple yards away from him, fully focused on the stream.
He smirked to himself, and before he had time to categorize whether it was a good or bad idea, he reached into the water and splashed her. She gasped and jumped back stunned, and an apology was on his lips before she reached down and splashed him back.
He blinked the water out of his eyes, “Okay, that was somehow colder than I expected. Like, I already splashed my face. Why was it colder when you splashed me?”
She didn’t smile, but he could see the mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. In that moment, it felt like nothing had changed. The wall crumbled and she was still the innocent girl he spent his life protecting. The one he would lay his life down to save.
He scooped up a handful of water, letting it drip through his fingers, an obvious threat. She squealed, and scrambled back. He splashed some water her way with minimal effort so it landed about a foot from her feet.
“We still have to walk, I don’t want to be soaking wet,” she said with a smile.
He stalked towards her, “Oh yeah? Soooo throwing you in is a bad idea?”
“Very bad.” she laughed as he stood over her. His heart pounded at the sound and he knew he would do anything to hear it again.
“That’s not much incentive for me to not do it. In fact, I’m starting to think I should.” For once, his smile didn’t feel forced or like an act. For once, he felt happy. He felt happy.
“I really don’t think you should,” she was still smiling, and Carver stepped closer to her, preparing to throw her in. He paused above her, her eyes stopping to meet his. He dreamed about her almost every night, but in this moment he wondered how he could have forgotten how beautiful she was.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, splotching her face in light and shadows. Her bright blue eyes dared him to continue, but he knew if he did she would retaliate. He didn’t care.
He leaned down about to grab her, but faster than he could have prepared for, she kicked his hand away from her, and moved into a standing position.
“Don’t you dare start breaking the rules.
” All mirth was gone from her voice, and his heart stilled within him.
She held her hands in front, ready to defend herself if he took a step forward.
What the hell was he thinking?
The sounds of the forest raged again, and the moment passed as though it never happened.
“I’m sorry.” Carver clenched his hands at his sides, and turned to gather all of his stuff so they could continue on. She did the same, and they walked in silence back to the tracks.