Humanity (8 page)

“I won at arm wrestling just yesterday,”
I reminded him.

“Candace, just wait here, will you?” He
sounded annoyed.

I wanted to argue some more, but it was
his arm; he could climb the tree if he wanted to.

He did, then shook down as many walnuts
as possible before dropping back to the earth.

“What about the others?” I asked, looking
up at the ones still attached to the tree and considering the possibilities.

“We probably don’t have enough room in
our packs and stomachs for all of them. The ones that didn’t drop when I shook
the tree are the ones that aren’t fully ripe yet, anyway. They aren’t as
nutritious right now. We’ll leave them in the tree, and someone else can come
and collect them later.” He stomped on a walnut, breaking it open. Then he
scooped it up and pulled the nut out. He held it out for me to see, then put it
in his mouth. I followed his example, and we ate like that for a while before
collecting the rest in our backpacks.

“Do you know where you want to go yet,
Candace?”

I looked at the tree, then back at the
deserted, broken carnival. He had made nature seem so powerful, so beautiful,
last night that the woods looked pretty inviting at the moment; birds sung in
the morning air, and I could see their shadows flitting from tree to tree. The
ground was a bright green, suggesting life and growth. A few tiny blue flowers
snaked up a trunk. In contrast, the carnival was dark, dead; the grey asphalt
it sat upon was cracked and worn, the painted yellow and white lines on its
surface faded with age.

“The forest looks pretty good,” I told
him, smiling.

He shook his head. “You’re still seeing
things wrong,” he said, “but I suppose you’re making progress.” He started into
the forest and I followed, the sunlight dimming through the veil of green
canopy above us.

“How am I seeing things wrong?” I
demanded.

“You’re seeing things for the life that
it offers, rather than the lack of human life. That’s great, that’s a step in
the right direction. But you still aren’t able to see the remains of the
carnival for the aesthetic appeal. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Aesthetic appeal? It’s dead. Nothing
remains but the carcass of the almost-starved lion we killed.”

He shook his head again and repeated.
“We’ll have to work on that.”

We walked, not talking much. That
evening, we ate more walnuts, stared up at the trees above our head, and slept
on top of moss-covered rocks. We kept walking the next morning.

“Twenty questions?”

“Candace, when you want to ask me
something, you don’t need to suggest we play a game. You can just ask me.”

I squirmed. “Okay. I want to ask you
something.”

“Good. Go for it.” He ducked under a tree
branch, offering his hand to help me over an uneven patch of ground.

“Why haven’t you done anything to me?”

“Why haven’t I killed you? I thought I
told you, I’m only going to kill you if you’re a threat. You’re not a threat
now, and I highly doubt you ever will be.”

“What if we’re starving, and there’s only
one steak?”

“Tough question.” His eyes glinted as he
met mine over his shoulder. “Would you kill me for the steak?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “For one thing, I
haven’t forgiven you yet. For killing my parents, I mean. I . . . well, my
thoughts about you are complicated. We’ve been together for a month – ”

“You’ve been following me around for a
month.”

“Er, yes. I know you well enough now that
I don’t really have it in me to kill you. That doesn’t mean I necessarily like
you as a person, but I’m not sure how I’d feel if I killed you. I feel like I
might lose more if I did that.”

“Because you’d be alone then.”

“Well . . . yeah. But if it were a matter
of survival – you or me – I would choose me.”
“Like how you would cut the tree down for firewood: you might appreciate that
the tree’s there, but that doesn’t mean you’ll sacrifice your life for it.”

“Yes.”

“Very reasonable.”

“Well, anyway, that’s not what I meant. I
wasn’t asking why you hadn’t killed me yet. I was asking. . .” I took a deep
breath. “I was asking why you haven’t touched me. Er, sexually, I mean.”

“I told you before. That’s not my thing.”

“Why not? Are you not physically
attracted to women?”

“I
am
physically attracted to women. I’m just not physically attracted to
raping
women. The idea doesn’t do
anything for me. I want a woman to
want
me to touch her, before I do.”

I furrowed my brows, staring at his back
as he kept moving. “Most men I’ve met find rape plenty attractive.”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face
me; I stumbled into him, momentarily feeling the heat of his chest through his
shirt before taking a step back, looking up into his face.

“I’m sorry, Candace.”

“It’s fine. Why are you stopping?”

He reached his hand forward, as if to
touch my face, and then dropped it again. He looked up at the trees. “I’m sorry
that’s happened to you,” he said.

I was taken aback. Why was he apologizing
about that? It was just one of those things. It happened all the time, and he
had nothing to do with it.

“I . . . Well, that’s just how it is.” I
shrugged. “It’s obviously abnormal for that
not
to happen. That’s why I was asking why you hadn’t.”

“I would never force myself like that on
anyone.” There was disgust on his face. “People
choose
to be together. They should never be forced into something.”

Chapter 8

“That’s a great ideal, but that’s not
typically how it works.”

“Anymore. That’s not how it works
anymore. What about your parents?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I have no idea how
that part of their relationship worked, and I would prefer not to think about
it.”
“When two people really love each other, the way people are supposed to love
each other, they never force one another to do anything. They make decisions
together
. It’s a partnership. That’s how
a relationship should work.”

“Have you had that before?”

“No. I’ve just had a lot of time to think
about it.”

“Have you ever been in
any
relationship before?” Curiosity was
getting the better of me. I thought Gideon would tease me for it, but he was
looking down at the ground now, his face closed to me, empty of emotion. “Er,
sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just keep walking.” I started
forward, passing him.

“No. Candace?” He grabbed my arm just
long enough to bring me to a halt, then he dropped it again; both of his arms
hung at his sides. He still wasn’t looking at me; he ran a hand through his
hair, causing his curls to stand on end. “I haven’t ever been in a
real
relationship before – not someone
who I loved, who was my equal. I . . .

“When my parents died, I struggled to
survive on my own. I was too young, too small, to really do anything, including
use a proper gun, though I did keep a knife. This.” Half his mouth turned up in
a slight smile as he took out the knife he still had. “My dad’s. But it wasn’t
much in the way of hunting or protecting myself. I couldn’t venture off on my
own too much because there was a risk that a large predator – like that lion - ”
he tilted his head back in the direction of the carnival, “might attack me. I
couldn’t protect myself against it with just a knife. Not at my size. So I
stuck around groups of people. This worked out okay, because predators didn’t
go near larger groups. However, I didn’t get fed much. I couldn’t protect
myself, and I knew I’d get killed immediately if I tried to take food someone
else had their eye on. I survived, but just barely.

“Then a man came along. He took an
interest in me, was nice to me. He always made sure I got fed. I stuck close to
him because he was the one who protected me from the others. Then, one day, he
came to me and told me he was leaving.”

“Leaving the group of people you were
with,” I clarified.

“Yes. I almost cried, right there in front
of him, when he told me that. Then, he asked me if I wanted to come with him. I
didn’t have to think about the answer; it was yes, a definitive yes.

“We left the next morning. His protective
role in my life continued. He fed me. He looked out for me. He never expected
anything of me. At least, not for a while.”

Gideon shuffled from foot to foot,
looking anywhere but at me.

I thought through what he was saying. He
wasn’t giving many details, just an overview. It was more than I’d ever
expected him to tell me about his past. I was only just starting not to hate
him – sometimes I even liked him – and yet he was sharing a part of himself
with me.

“He hurt you, didn’t he?” I whispered,
studying the freckles on Gideon’s nose.

His face twisted. “He didn’t care for
raping girls, either. He had
other
preferences.” His voice was bitter. “I could have ran away after that first
time, but I didn’t know where I could go. The world was so scary to me. I was
small, and this man fed me. He protected me. At least, he protected me from
everyone but himself.”

My gut clenched. My throat closed. I had
never expected to feel any sort of compassion for Gideon, but this . . . this
forced me to. How can you hate someone who was once a victim himself? You
couldn’t. Any villain could quickly become someone understandable, someone you
could feel actual sympathy for.

Gideon hadn’t ever been a true villain –
only in those first few hours that I knew him. After that, I’d despised him
with a hatred so powerful that I plotted his death with every breath I took.
Then, as I’d helped him recover from his gun injuries, I had come to the point
where I simply disliked him – not because he wasn’t enjoyable to be around, but
because his presence meant my parents’ murderer was at large.

But, after all the time we’d spent
together, after all the conversations we’d shared, after realizing I liked
being around him, and after hearing about his victimization now, how could I
dislike him at all? He was just a boy, fighting to survive against the world as
best he could.

I didn’t forgive him. But the dislike had
vanished.

“When I was around sixteen, I hit a
growth spurt; the extra height and strength made me confident that I could
survive on my own,” he said. “When he was asleep, I stole his gun and took off.
I never looked back, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Did you consider. . .” I hesitated. “Did
you consider killing him?”

Gideon finally met my eyes, then gave me
a little smile. “No. How could I? He had kept me alive all those years. I might
have hated him, but I still owed him my life.”

“And you’ve been traveling alone ever
since then?”

He straightened, clearing his throat and
grinning at me mockingly, banishing all the seriousness of the conversation
we’d just had. “Until a skinny teenager bent on my death showed up and decided
to follow me to the ends of the earth.”

“The earth
has
no ends,” I retorted.

He walked past me, moving forward once
more. “The borders of the United States, then.”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t follow you if
you passed those borders?”

“I guess we’ll see if I ever decide to do
just that.”

I studied the gap in his shoulder blades
as he walked. He had gone through so much to get to the perspective he now
held. How could he picture the world for the life that inhabited it? How could
he feel the sort of peace he felt when he focused on the nature around him? How
could he just let go of his past and focus on living? How could he focus on
taking one step after the other, and find contentment in that?

He might have once been a broken boy who
escaped an abused life, but he wasn’t that boy anymore. He was a strong,
confident man who had learned how to live in a way that gave him appreciation
for the broken world around him.

And I could see that as he turned and
grinned at me, his dark brown eyes sparkling as they met mine, all traces of
our previous conversation gone from his features. My heart stuttered, and my
stomach filled with butterflies; I stopped in my tracks, even as he turned to
face forward again and kept walking.

Was he actually
attractive
? How had I never noticed that before? Was it just
because I had been so blinded by hate and anger?

No. I
had
noticed before that he was attractive. I had just never cared.

He stopped walking, turning to look at me
inquiringly. “Something wrong, darling?”

Butterflies again. My face was either
pale white or deep red – I couldn’t be sure which.

“N-no,” I stuttered, forcing myself
forward once more, toward him. I was trying to kick my brain back into gear,
but wasn’t sure I was succeeding. “My leg fell asleep while you were doing all
that talking, so I had to take a minute and get the blood flowing again.”

He continued walking, and I followed.
“Ah. Sorry about that. I didn’t realize your legs we’re so sensitive.”

“They’re not.”

“Good to hear it, darling. Now, how about
some birds for lunch?” He pulled out his gun and pointed it toward a few
bluebirds flying away.

I grinned, following his lead with my own
weapon. “Sounds perfect.”

~ * ~

We camped under the trees again, resting
on opposite sides of the fire. I listened to the crackling flames as I fell
asleep. The chirping of birds woke me in the morning; I groggily rolled onto my
back, blinking in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. I laid there
for a while, my right hand resting on my left wrist, tracing the beads of the
bracelet I still wore.

Mornings were always slow; Gideon and I
each took our time getting up, since there was nowhere in particular we were
heading – especially during the time he was healing. Besides that, he still
couldn’t walk very far each day. There was no hurry; I could take my time
waking up.

And I had, ever since I stopped fearing
he’d disappear. Somehow, he’d never bothered shaking me off. Now, he probably
wouldn’t ever bother, considering I’d chosen not to kill him.

Unless he got tired of me – there was
always that possibility. But, after the personal nature of what he’d told me
yesterday, I doubted that would be any time soon.

Still lying on my back, I turned my head
toward Gideon’s tree.

He wasn’t there.

I blinked, looking around for his
backpack – any sign of him. All I could see was the pile of bird bones from
yesterday.

I sat up, beginning to look around our
little campsite. When I still couldn’t see him, my heart began to hammer.

He
did
leave me, right when I thought he wouldn’t. I couldn’t believe it. What was I
going to do without him? Where was I going to go? Why would he leave me? Why
now? I didn’t think. . .

I stood, looking around frantically.
Maybe if I could just catch up to him. Then, I would simply make sure he never
left without me again. I’d just keep following him until I figured out
something else.

That sounded pathetic. Did I really want
to follow him around, even when he didn’t want my company?

I thought he
liked
my company. That’s the only reason he hadn’t killed me for so
long.

“
Gideon!
”
I shouted, my voice panicked as I randomly picked a direction and started
running. I hadn’t ever been any good at tracking, but there might be a small
chance that I could find him.

I tripped, landing hard on my knees.

“Candace?”

I looked up to find Gideon at my side. He
placed his hands around my elbows and pulled me to my feet.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so pale?”

“Where’d you go?” I demanded, my voice
coming out as a squeak.

“I could smell water. There’s a stream
nearby, and I wanted to locate it and wash up while you were still asleep. It’s
been a really long time since I was clean.” I noted that his face was, indeed,
clean. He was still holding my elbows, as if to help me stay upright.

I yanked away from him. “You could have
waited till I woke up – I would have given you some privacy.”

“Why are you angry about it? I thought
you’d be happy to hear I’d found water when you woke up; you were very deeply
asleep when I left.”

I huffed, looking away. “I thought you’d
left,” I muttered.

A few seconds lapsed.

“Well, I hadn’t. Do you want to come see
the stream?”

I paused, not wanting to gratify him
after embarrassing myself with my panic. However, I
did
want to see the stream. “Yes,” I admitted.

His mouth twitched. “Good. Do you need
help walking?”

He was mocking me. I probably deserved
it, too, for jumping to such rash conclusions.

“I think I can manage,” I replied.

He turned, and I followed him.

As we neared the stream, I could hear the
babble of water against rocks. Then, I could see the sunlight glinting on the
water. We hadn’t been desperate for water since we’d left our last stream
behind, thanks to the rainwater we had managed to collect regularly, but the
fresh, flowing water now before me looked very inviting.

I maneuvered past Gideon, since his limp
made him slow, and went straight to the water’s edge, using my hands to scoop
the liquid into my mouth.

“Thirsty, aren’t we?” Gideon commented,
smirking as he came to sit down beside me.

After a few more gulps, I sat back and
looked at him. “How can you smell water?”

“You know how we practice focusing on our
environment in order to find peace?”

“Yes.”

“After you do that for a while, you start
to notice more than the smells and sounds closest to you; you begin picking up
on others that aren’t quite as close. This stream really isn’t that far from
where we camped.”

“Huh.”

“You know, it’s going to start getting
cold soon.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Considering the state of our clothes - ”
He indicated our torn shirts, the sleeves having been used as bandages. “- I’d
say we have two options. One, travel south, and, two, go shopping.”

“Are you asking me which sounds better?”

“Well, the first option’s a little more
complicated. We’re pretty far north right now, and it’ll take us at least a
month to walk anywhere significantly warmer – warmer to the point where we
don’t need more clothing. I’m not going to manage walking very fast, either.