Humanity (21 page)

I nodded, then left the house, ignoring
the men as I went.

I stood just outside the gate, looking
along the block, recognizing every house that stood there, and realizing just
how many houses occupied this exit. How would I ever find her in a maze such as
this?

I closed my eyes, focusing, willing my connection
with her, my love for her, to pull me in the right direction.

But nothing did. No spiritual energy or
magical feeling tugged me towards a certain house, or even encouraged me to go
right instead of left. Nothing was going to help me find her now. I was just
human.

That wasn’t going to stop me from trying
my hardest to find her on my own, though. Pain – if that was his objective with
her, then he would draw it out. He had never caused me anything but emotional
pain, but I understood well enough the driving force behind someone wanting to
cause someone else pain. Candace had wanted it of me, and I would bet anything
that, at the time, she would have loved to draw out my suffering for as long as
possible.

I was sure he would do the same. I had
time to search before he took her life, even if it meant she experienced more
pain for it. But where could I possibly start from within this maze of houses?

One at a time, I decided, looking along
the line and choosing the house that came after the commune. That’s all I could
do: search one at a time.

~ * ~

House by house, I searched. I looked
through every room of every house, hoping for even a hint that she had once
been there. Even if she wasn’t there anymore, a hint was better than nothing.

For each house I entered, I would walk
through the door and pause, listening for any sign of life. A few times, there
were sounds, and I followed them to reveal some loner cocooned in blankets, or
a boney dog clawing at the wall. Other times, there was silence.

For each room I looked into, I hoped to
lay eyes on her; this never happened.

All the while, I dreaded the moment I
would come into contact with
him
.
After so many years, my worst fear had grown to a point that I hadn’t foreseen.
I would do it, for her, but I would have given anything to know I could get her
back without facing him.

After ten houses, I came and rested on
the curb, setting my head in my arms. I’d been working on the first circle of
houses in the neighborhood, and was now past the backyard of the first house
where the commune was.

I had the worst headache, even though the
medicine was doing its job. I didn’t want to rest – the longer I left Candace
with him, the more hurt she’d be when I got there. Each moment I was away from
her, she was sure to be breaking all the worse. I
needed
to get to her.

But would I be able to help her if I’d
worn myself down beforehand? I already knew I was stronger than him, but would
that be enough, injured as I was? What sort of fight would he put up?

I sat there, resting, dreading what my
resting might mean for her. That’s when a muffled sound came from behind me.

Pain. That was the only word for what I
was hearing. I had never heard Candace shout out in pain, but that wasn’t going
to keep me from investigating that sound. It
had
to be her.

How did I know? Maybe it was that
connection I’d hopelessly been feeling around for a few hours ago, the
connection that would lead me to her. Maybe I just recognized the character of
her voice better than I’d realized.

Whatever it was that made me believe that
cry of pain was her, it brought me through the backyard of the house I was
sitting in; I jumped a fence and sprinted to the back door of the house behind
it, all the while listening for another sign that someone was in agony.

No sound came.

I raised my gun and shot through the
glass of the back door; it shattered into too many pieces to count, and I
stepped over the wood paneling. I listened, wondering which direction to take.
The house was dark, too dark for shadows, and several hallways branched off
from where I was.

Soft footsteps thudded from above my
head, and I started searching for stairs.

My eyes adjusted to the light in time to
see them at the front of the house, a grand banister beckoning me upward. I
gripped it and surged forward, climbing as fast as feasible, considering how
few stairs I’d climbed since getting shot in September.

I turned left, knowing the footsteps had
come from that direction. I studied the hallway, trying to think which door
would lead to the room above the kitchen.

That one.

I turned right and tried the handle.
Locked. I raised my gun again and blasted the lock; the door swung open.

Four walls. The doorway I stood in. A
closed closet door.

And them.

Chapter 21
– Gideon

Candace, flopped against the ground like
a ragdoll, from what must have previously been a sitting position. Her limp
hair was splayed across her face, hiding her eyes, but it was obvious that she
was unconscious – the scream must have been the last before she had become so.
Her neck pulsed, showing clearly how alive she still was, even though
finger-shaped bruises encased the pulse. Her wrists and ankles were tied and,
most gruesome of all, blotches of blood speckled the fabric of her clothing.
Holes, obviously produced by a stabbing knife, rimmed with deep red, lined her
pants and shirtsleeves up and down. Her cheeks from under her hair looked
purple and gray, discolored from slapping. Careful slices lined her chest and
torso, blood staining the cut fabric there, too. Her abuser had obviously been
careful to only give wounds that wouldn’t kill her; he hadn’t been ready for
that yet.

Now, though, her head rested in his lap,
and he held a gun to her head.

“Hello, Gideon,” he said pleasantly.
“It’s so nice to see you again.” There was a warmth there that didn’t fit the
scene.

I didn’t break my composure, even though
the pain of seeing Candace like that seared a hot iron right through my chest.

“I can’t say likewise, I’m afraid,” I
said, taking a step forward, “considering the predicament of my sweetheart
there.” I nodded at Candace in his lap, but immediately refocused my eyes on
him, giving him my full attention. I walked closer, noting the way his grip
tensed on the trigger of his gun. But, rather than go to him, I sat down in
front of him, crossing my legs and meeting his eyes.

The dread about this meeting had
vanished. In its place was one desire: get Candace out alive.

“What’s your price?” I asked.

“We leave her here; you and I walk out
together. When she wakes, we’ll be gone. She’s not hurt enough to be unable to
manage by herself.”

“You want me to leave her for you.”

“To stay with me.” Those cold blue eyes
melted, leaving in their place longing and desperation, loneliness and hope.

“You realize I’ve never felt that way
about you,” I clarified.

The blue froze again. “That’s my price.”

I studied Candace for a long while,
wishing I could look into her eyes.

“How are you going to keep me from
running away from you again?” I asked, looking back at him.

“I’m not.” The blue melted again.

He wanted to
trust
me. He wanted to believe that I wouldn’t leave him, even
though I had before. Despite the fact that he had caused me so much inner pain
when I was growing up, he still had hope that I could somehow love him.

This was why I hadn’t been able to kill
him ten years before. Even with everything he’d put me through, he’d protected
me. And I
knew
him. I knew there was
something in his heart that was kind, despite the way he chose to use people.

He was human.

I had to save Candace.

“Okay,”
 
I finally said. “I’ll go with you.”

His stern face crumpled into relief; he
set the gun aside and gently lifted Candace’s head from his lap, setting her to
the side. He brought out a knife, cutting her bonds, before laying that aside
as well. He dug in his backpack and brought out a blanket, laying it out over
her body. Then, he gathered his possessions.

Had this always been his plan? Had he
somehow foreseen that I’d find Candace? Possibly foreseen that Candace would
need medicine for me? Even the man who’d shot me had come out of nowhere. Could
he have planned everything out that far, simply in the hopes that I’d come with
him? That I’d
stay
with him?

Was that possible?

He stood, and I followed suit. Then he
took my unarmed hand, tugging me toward the door.

“Come on,” he said, a corner of his mouth
uplifted. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Yes,” I said. “We do.” I raised my gun
and fired.

There wasn’t time for his face to
register surprise; blood gushed from his skull, and he dropped to the ground.

Distasteful as it was, I untangled his
bag from his body and opened it, spilling the contents on the ground. He didn’t
have any more medication, but there was a bottle of rubbing alcohol, completely
unopened.

I turned back to Candace, lifting the
blanket off her and screwing the cap off the bottle. I tore a piece of my shirt
away, pouring the alcohol on the fabric and beginning to blot at her skin.

Anywhere there was blood, I rubbed the
alcohol into the wound. After everything we’d been through, I wouldn’t risk her
getting an infection like I had.

My hand snaked up and down inside her
clothing, all the while being careful not to do anything that might seem
intimate, even though it definitely would not have felt that way in this
situation.

Finally satisfied, I patted her hair
down, then swept her off the floor, into my arms, even as my shoulder
protested. I carefully swung her onto my back, just as I had carried that doe
so many months before. Then, I walked past
his
body, and left the room.

I hadn’t ever forgiven him, even though
I’d previously let him live. Somehow I’d never managed to let it go, especially
considering my fear that he’d somehow creep back into my life. I wouldn’t even
have killed him now, save for one thing.

Candace. I wouldn’t let him ever have a
chance to hurt her again.

Maybe I’d be able to forgive him one day.
It would definitely help, knowing that I’d never come across him again. He was
finally gone, and that would give me the power I needed to let go.

I still didn’t know how Candace had found
the power to forgive me, after what I’d taken from her. Hadn’t that been
similar to what
he
had done to me?

It all came down to love. Somehow, she
fell in love with me. I had known that’s all it would take – love – I just
hadn’t realized her loving me was truly possible.

Love was what had finally given me the
strength to kill
him
. My love for her
would make me do anything necessary to keep it – even face a demon I wanted to
forget.

I carried her forward, away from the
neighborhood filled with houses, her weight heavy on my shoulders. Even as she
weighed me down, though, she was still, unquestionably, my strength.

Chapter 22
– Candace

The world was slow to reappear; my mind
was fuzzy, but I felt certain that
Gideon’s
arm was what wrapped so tightly around me, hugging me to him. How could that
be? I had left him behind. I would never see him again.

Sorrow overwhelmed me once more. And yet
I felt so
safe
.

A groan escaped my lips, and he shifted
slightly. I kept my eyes tightly closed, dreading the moment I had to face
reality.

“Gideon?” I meant for it to be a murmur,
but it sounded like a croak.

“I’m here, Candace.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re in some trees just outside of an
urban area; I thought you might like some new clothes.”

I shook my head, eyes still closed. “Dead
people don’t need new clothes. Gideon, why are you here? I don’t understand.
Did he kill me? But that would mean you’d have to be dead, too, and I was so
certain you’d live. . .”

“I’m alive, and so are you. And he’s not
going to kill you. He’s never going to touch you again.” Emotion rose up in his
voice, thick: pain and fury, all rolled into one.

Finally, I opened my eyes. I twisted
around to look at him, even though my entire body hurt when I did so.

There he was: brown curls, deep eyes –
all of him, right down to the last freckle. His jaw was set tight.

“Gideon,” I whispered, lifting a finger
to touch his cheek. A swell was rising up inside me, rushing forward; I started
crying.

“Candace,” his arms tightened around me,
holding me to his chest.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I
blubbered, my tears soaking into his shirt. “What happened?” The last thing I
could remember was pain – searing pain – and I immediately blocked it out.

“I found you, and then I killed him.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“You’re leaving something out; it
couldn’t have been that simple.”

“It was that simple – I didn’t care what
I had to do. I wasn’t going to lose you, no matter what it took.”

“But what happened?”

“You really want the details?”

I thought about this, realizing the
truth. “No,” I murmured.

“Right. How about some water?” He lifted
a bottle to my lips; I raised my head and swallowed as he carefully poured the
liquid down my throat.

“This is different,” I said, wiping my
mouth. “You’ve never had to baby me like this before.”

“You’ve saved me plenty of times; it’s my
turn to save you.”

“Are my clothes pretty messed up?” I
asked, my thoughts going to the beginning of the conversation.

“Not that we plan on seeing anyone, but I
thought your face and neck would get plenty of stares without anyone having to
notice your clothes.”

At these words, I finally looked down at
myself. My clothing was ridden with blood-stained holes. Horrified, I asked,
“What does my face look like?” It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d died with all
sorts of cuts and bruises, but how was I supposed to live looking like this?

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “They’re
just bruises; they’ll go away.”

“I bet the cuts won’t, though,” I
muttered, peering down my shirt at the mottled flesh that was my chest.
“Those’ll scar.”

“It
doesn’t
matter
,” he repeated, pulling my hand away from my shirt.

“But I’m not going to look very pretty
when we finally . . . well, when you finally see me.”

“You think I care about that?”

I forced my eyes closed against the new
torrent of tears that threatened.

“Candace, those scars might deter other
men from raping you – which is a blessing, I’d say – but I’m going to think
you’re beautiful no matter what.” His hand cupped my face, and I reopened my
eyes to meet his; they were earnest and full of emotion – love. “You are
mine
, and, if anything, this proves it
more.” He leaned toward my face and kissed me, gently, as if he thought I’d
break.

I kissed him back, severely wanting to
feel his love for me. And, most surprising, I wanted him to
want
me. I deepened the kiss.

He groaned, then kissed me harder. He
kissed me over and over again until I was dizzy, and then he let me go, pulling
me back into him.

“It’s been a while since either of us
ate, I think,” he murmured, holding me. “Not since the bear before you left for
the medicine.”

“How long has it been since then?”

“Three days, roundabout. It was a little
hard for me to keep track of time when I first started the antibiotics.”

I’d lost track of time, too. I’d lost
consciousness at several intervals.

“Anyway, I want you to lay here while I
go catch a fish from the river, and then I’ll come back and we’ll eat.”

“You can fish?” I asked, surprised.
“You’ve never fished before.”

“It’s impossible
not
to catch a fish in this river right now. I think it’s mating
season, or something.” He pulled away from me, standing. “Just wait here,
okay?”

I nodded in agreement, then he
disappeared.

Loneliness crept in on me, so quick in
his absence. And the memories. . . I clenched my eyes closed against them, and
only opened them again when Gideon returned. He held a fish in each hand.

He set them aside and started a fire,
then roasted the fish whole. He helped me sit up, then handed me a plank with
flakey bits of the fish laid out on it. We ate.

“So, new clothes after this?” I asked,
chewing.

“Yes, if you want.”

“What will we do after that?”

“Whatever you want. We could return to
the grove?” The suggestion was hesitant, because the grove would no longer be
the safe place it had felt like before. It would no longer be home.

“How about Mexico?” I suggested.

“Mexico,” Gideon echoed, his voice
sounding hollow.

“I think we could both use a fresh
start.”

He met my eyes over the food, his
expression unreadable. After a minute, he said, “You’re serious.”

“Yes. I’m serious. If we had crossed the
border when you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been shot, wouldn’t have gotten
infected, and I wouldn’t have made that trade for the medicine. I don’t want
anything like that ever happening again.”

“We might not be much better off in
Mexico,” he pointed out. “We have no idea what that country’s been up to in the
last quarter of a century.”

“That’s not the way you saw it when you
were planning out how we were going to jump the border a week ago.”

“I didn’t almost lose you a week ago.”

“
I
didn’t almost lose
you
a week ago.
You wanted Mexico then. Why don’t you want it now?”

“I
do
want it now. I just can’t believe you’ve changed your mind. I thought it’d take
years to convince you.”

“Well, I
have
changed my mind. When do you want to go?”

He looked into my eyes, then leaned
forward and traced my cheek with his clean knuckle. “To start a family?” he
asked.

“
If
and
when
we find somewhere safe
to stay. And it might have to involve interacting with other humans.”

“Agreed,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re up for
that?”

He leaned back and started eating again.
“I’m up for anything when it comes to you, darling.” He winked at me, eyes
sparkling.

He seemed much perkier than earlier, but
it might have just been the fish.

~ * ~

“He’s on duty,” Gideon whispered. “Are
you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, and
we each broke into a sprint for the fence.

It had been three weeks since we’d agreed
to jump the border, and those three weeks had been filled with more than a few
doubts. After we’d rested a few days, we’d walked back to the border, Gideon
cutting strips of rubber from cars as we went. He worked with the rubber at
night, melting and shaping it over the open flames to create pieces that we
could form to our shoes, as well as pieces that we could wear on our hands like
crab claws.

Once we had reached the border, we waited
for the man who liked to lean back and smoke with his eyes closed. Gideon had
previously memorized the shift-change schedule so that, even if it was the
middle of the night, he’d be ready to watch and see if the man came on duty.

Almost two weeks passed with no sightings
of him, and Gideon was getting more than a little antsy.

“He was never gone like this when we
watched before,” he told me.

“We only watched for seven days,” I
pointed out. “We’ve been watching for another two weeks now; is there anyone
else who would be a good choice?”

He roughly shook his head. “No. He’s the
only one who relaxes like that on the job.”

“Then maybe they fired him.”

“Maybe.” It wasn’t a very comforting
thought.

However, the very next night, he
appeared.

“Watch for the searchlights!” Gideon
warned in a loud whisper as we ran, and I jumped back just in time to miss one.

It was a long sprint, but we made it to
the fence, Gideon right ahead of me.

“You okay?” he gasped, touching my chin
in a quick swipe before pulling out the rubber.

“Fine,” I murmured, though I was still
sore from my stab wounds. Those healing injuries mattered little at the moment
– I was trying to ignore the fact that we were about to climb into a vicinity
while almost completely blind to the layout and weapons. I quickly pulled on my
own rubber shoes and handholds, then started climbing a pace before Gideon.

I was pretty sure my head start was just
because he was watching me to make sure I was doing okay, but I went ahead and
let it fuel me forward.

He reached my side halfway up the fence,
even though I was certain his leg had to be throbbing; he was set on getting to
the guard before me, somehow convinced he’d do a better job at pointing his
gun, or something.

He got to the top of the fence and hopped
over the edge of the watchtower. I heard something hard hit the floor, a grunt,
and then the sound of whispers. I pulled myself up and in, unsure of what I
would find.

Gideon had the man’s arms twisted behind
his back, and was holding his gun to his head. The man’s chest was pressed to
the wall, and he was looking over his shoulder at Gideon.

“Got your gun on him?” Gideon asked me. I
nodded, and Gideon pocketed his, pulling out some rope and wrapping it around
the man’s wrists. “He doesn’t speak English,” he muttered, securing the knots
before shoving the man around to face forward, then pushing him down to the
ground. He pulled out some extra fabric from his backpack and shoved it into
the man’s mouth. “I think it’s going to be too difficult to get him out of his
uniform without communication, so we’ll just have to go without.”

“I hadn’t ever been convinced of the use
the uniform would do us anyway,” I replied, watching as he searched the man’s
pockets, bringing out a few plastic cards; he held them up to the light.

“You think these are keys?” he asked. “I
think keys were going in this direction before the economy collapse, but I
can’t be certain, since I hadn’t been born yet.”

“If those are all you can find on him,
then they’re probably keys,” I agreed, looking around the room. The man’s lit
cigarette had burnt itself out on the metal floor, right next to where his
high-tech gun lay. I didn’t touch the gun; we wouldn’t have any idea how to
work it.

Other than the metal bowl we stood in,
and the gun, the watchtower had no other features.

“Ready to go?” I asked.

Gideon was busy hog-tying the soldier for
another moment, but then he stood and met my eyes.

“You’re doing okay?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Gideon, I appreciate
your concern, but we both know I’m fine – all healed and ready to go, and I can
handle anything you can handle.”

“Just checking,” he replied, then headed
for the ladder.

We climbed down without incident, though
it was fifty feet of open air in Mexican territory. The yard was dark, and no
one would have expected crossers to come over the fence so quietly.

“I think we’ve got about thirty seconds
before the next soldier walks past here, based on the regular routine, so we
need to choose a direction quickly,” Gideon told me, eyes bouncing from one
corner of the yard to the other. “He’ll come from there,” he said, nodding to
the right.

The yard before us seemed to be a maze of
warehouses. We needed to get to the other end, and were likely to hit a sort of
main headquarters at some point. Also likely was that someone would spot us,
and then we’d have to really run for what we hoped was the exit. Our chances
were not good.