56. Fifty Three
Fifty Three
Eden
“Ihave to go,” I repeat, desperation knitting my brow. The beat of my heart is no less than a jack hammer against my ribcage.
Cecil’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes as he closes the distance between us. When his palm finds my jaw, it takes a conscious effort not to nuzzle into the comfort.
“You’ll stay,” he murmurs. His face is severe, demanding obedience, but his caress borders on cajoling.
“Please—”
He grips my wrist, cutting the sign short. The world disappears as he brings my palm to his chest. Instinctively, my fingers curl, digging into the black cotton that covers his chest. As if I might yank his heart free and keep it safe in my fist.
I’m vaguely aware of watchful eyes, but I’m drunk off of his touch, oblivious to questioning murmurs.
“I won’t be gone long,” he promises. The crack of his voice betrays his confident persona. Our bodies behave like a call and response, and my own lip trembles. “I need you to protect the camp. Can you do that?”
It’s an excuse. Those staying behind are doing so because they’re deemed unfit to fight. But I could never tell him no. I’m angry, but I agree with a dip of my chin.
“Good.”
Desperation trumps apprehension, and I rise onto my toes. When I press my lips to his, he stiffens. For a moment, his lips are tight against my own, and I worry I’ve made a mistake. But then, firm arms wind around my waist and tug me to close. Kiss after kiss, I struggle to keep my composure.
Once my lungs ache, I pull back an inch. His breath mingles with mine; cinnamon and mint. Eyes shut, I relish the moment.
In the distance, a holler of profanity is followed by a demand that Cecil hurry up. A voice that sounds distinctly like Sylvie snarls at the person to shut up.
“I’ll see you soon,” Cecil whispers into the space between us.
Three words bounce around my skull, and I’m unable to stop them from spilling out. My voice is gravelly when I speak. “I—”
Firm lips silence my admission.
“I know,” he says against my mouth, pressing my hand more firmly into his chest. “I know.”
“I know,” I repeat on an exhale.
He smiles, presses one last lingering kiss to my hairline, and then he’s out of my arms.
The convoy heads south, seven of us left behind in muted anticipation: Veda, Creed, myself, an elderly couple, a woman with a cast on her foot, and her five year old son.
It makes for a peculiar sight, the mismatched crew that we are.
We sit gathered around the unlit fire pit, shoulders high and chins low.
Excluding Veda. Her head is on a swivel, scanning the woods that surround us on an endless, neck breaking loop.
The leaves shimmer in the breeze, appearing a murky green in the overcast light.
The air smells of moisture, and the cracks in the Earth gape at the possibility of rain.
It’s been sunbeams and heat waves for weeks now, and it bothers me that I may never feel the delicate tapping of raindrops on my face again.
Creed snaps his fingers. All heads turn toward the abrupt sound.
“How far away is the Orphanage?”
Veda twists the face of her watch until righted, grimacing as she reads the time.
“Forty minutes. They’ll be there soon, if they aren’t already.”
Her words are a slap of reality. Until now, the plan was distant. Impossible.
Knowing that at this very moment, Cecil could be facing off against dozens of gun-wielding men…
My stomach churns. I’m grateful we didn’t bother with breakfast.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” The question comes from the mother of the small boy. Her hair is cropped short, so blonde it’s nearly white. Her son has an identical hairstyle, and it’s almost enough to conjure a smile on my lips. Almost.
“Hard to say,” Veda replies, crestfallen. “Hopefully not too long. The sooner we can get to the Sanctuary, the better. Once it’s nightfall, we’ll be at a disadvantage.”
The woman sighs, adjusting her son on her lap until he’s balanced on her knees, his powder-haired head resting on her chest. “We’re already at a disadvantage.” She shoots us an apologetic look, like she didn’t mean to say the words aloud.
It’s the truth, though. I can’t find it in myself to resent the pessimism.
So softly I can’t be sure I heard him correctly, the old man recites what seems to be a prayer. “May the paths Fate pave be just.” Beside him, his wife nods solemnly, taking his hand in her own.
The heaviness of the moment suffocates the conversation. The wind picks up and I scoot closer to Creed, absorbing his warmth in more ways than one. Absently, eyes on his feet, he drapes an arm over my shoulders.
“Well, I suppose we could get started on lunch.” Veda pushes to stand, brushing her palms along her jeans. “I’ve got lunchmeat, and leftover fruit in…”
My eyes flit over to her, and the fear that stares back at me has blood turning to ice in my veins. Silently, slowly, I reach over and grip Creed’s knee. I squeeze until his head rises.
Within an instant, every pair of eyes grows round with worry, though the threat is a mystery to everyone but Veda. Her lips part to speak, but no sound comes out. Instead, ever so slowly, she signs,
“Go inside.”
The group is paralyzed, staring dumbly at one another. My ears strain, but all that reaches them is the barely there whistle of wind and an occasional flutter of bird wings.
It’s Creed who stands first, pulling me to my feet with a firm grip.
Spurred into action, the seven of us rush across the beaten down grass to Veda’s RV.
As gently as he can, Creed opens the door, but ancient hinges give a creak of protest. I cringe inwardly, checking over my shoulder.
The young mother hobbles along in her cast, the old man holding her elbow for support as her child clings to her neck.
I don’t breathe until we’re all crowded in the small living room.
Veda makes quick work of closing the curtains.
Creed whirls around, clicking the flimsy lock into place.
It won’t do much against an intruder, but it gives the illusion of security.
Right in the nick of time, too, because when Veda peeks outside, a blacked out SUV creeps through the tree line.
The all too familiar pang of dread floods my consciousness.
Trembles begin in my ankles and work all the way up into my arms, my hands, my chin.
Even my eyes vibrate in my skull. A squeeze of my fingers turns my attention down.
My hand is interlocked with Creed’s, our knuckles staggered white, suffocated by fear.
Lifting my face, I meet his gaze. Jaw set, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t look afraid. He looks…
Angry.
A sniffle comes from behind me. Sat on the sagging couch is the mother and son. Tears track his cheeks, and her lips are pressed to his ear, pressing promises of safety into the flesh.
The opening and closing of vehicles' doors might as well be gunshots. Each sound makes me flinch, and Creed watches my reactions intently, his nostrils flared.
Veda’s leadership is lost in the throes of panic, and she stands frozen beside us. It’s Creed who finally makes the first order.
“Bedroom,” he instructs. On silent feet, he ushers us into the furthest room of the RV. There’s only one window that sits above the bed, broken blinds barely concealing us.
“What do we do?” The mother whispers, clutching her child like someone might rip him from her arms.
And they will, if they find us.
Cecil’s request is coming to fruition.
I need you to protect the camp. Can you do that?
I told him I could.
The mattress dips beneath my body weight as I crawl to the window. Two homes have already been ransacked, including the old couples pop-up camper. They’re making quick work of it, too, indifferent to the items that they toss around. They’re not looking for something, they’re looking for someone.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The shout echoes through the trees, and I rear back, falling back on the mattress.
“I have a gun,” Creed signs hastily, as if he only just remembered. Pulling it from his hip, he holds it between his palms. He looks to Veda, a questioning glance furrowing his brow. She nods. The click of the safety being turned off makes my legs go numb.
The weapon might as well be a child’s toy, for how much comfort it gives me. Even if Creed was an excellent shot, they would take him out instantly. And then what?
They’re coming. It’s only a matter of time. And there’s only one thing I can think of that might give them a good enough reason to leave.
You know the end.
A thump makes each of us jump. All except Creed. He stares at the door in wait, finger hovered over the trigger. A pain begins in my chest at the sight of him. My gentle, sweet boy, resorted to violence and fear.
It’s my fault. My responsibility.
I look to Veda, but she’s already watching me. A silent exchange passes between us, and her jaw tightens. Me, I try to tell her with my eyes. It has to be me.
She dips her head.
Creed won’t forgive me, but at least he’ll live to resent me.
I go to him, gripping his shoulder. Another thump sounds, this time right next door. There’s only one place left to search, and we’re standing in it. Once Creed faces me, there’s a wild look in his eyes that I don’t recognize.
“I love you.”
His lips turn down, and I suppress the guilt that whispers in my mind.
Pushing up onto my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck, watching Veda approach from behind.
One hand rests on my back, while the other hangs loosely at his side, gun aimed at the floor.
Quick as a whip, Veda snatches the gun from his hold.
He releases me instantly, and I run for the door.
Flinging it open, I only give myself a second to look back.
Creed tries to chase after me, but Veda steps in his path, gun held up. Panic stricken, he signs furiously.
“What are you doing!? What are you doing!?”
I slam the door closed, unable to bear the look on his face. With the ruckus I’ve made, the men outside begin to shout, gravel crunching as they approach the RV. Desperate to meet them outside, I run to the front door and throw it open.
Behind me there’s incoherent screaming.
Creed.
Tears flood my eyes. I leap from the top step. Five heads whip toward me, recognition making eyes and smiles grow wide. With me in their sights, they’re indifferent to the yells coming from the RV. Instinct pumps my legs and I dart into the woods. It’s futile, but it serves its purpose.
I don’t make it one hundred yards before I’m tackled to the ground. One swift explosion of pain strikes my temple.
As I lose consciousness, I hope for my friends.
May the paths Fate pave be just.