Humanity (9 page)

“So option two isn’t really an option –
we’ll have to do it either way, at least while we’re walking to our
significantly warmer destination. What I’m really asking you is if you want to
stay here this winter, or go somewhere else. I personally
hate
sleeping outside in the snow, and, as you might have already
realized, I don’t like joining groups of people, so I try to avoid sleeping
indoors; when you do, it’s very likely you’ll get others wanting to share the
same roof as you.”

“You want to go south.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re asking me what
I
want?”

“Yes.”

“Does it matter? You could go south
either way.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Candace, we both
know you’re a little more reliant on my presence than is strictly healthy,
considering your history of constantly savoring the thought of killing me.”

I stiffened, not really wanting to admit
the obvious.

“Look, I’m not going anywhere you don’t
want to go. That’s all I’m saying.”

I chewed on my lip.

“Are you attached to Oregon at all?”

“No. I guess not. I’m originally from
Virginia, but I
have
liked it here.”

“Well, I’m originally from Wisconsin, and
I hate the cold. I’ve traveled south every year since I went off on my own, and
I quite like it.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go south.”

He smiled at me. “Great. What do you want
to do about clothes?”

“Er, get some?”

“I thought we’d start right off heading
south, and stop at any shopping malls we find along the way. With that method,
if the first few malls don’t have anything useful, we still have some time
before it becomes an issue.”

“Is it difficult to find good clothing?”

Gideon gave me a look. “Generally, yes.”

I looked down. “My parents usually
happened to procure them through a trade. We didn’t spend time looking for
clothes; we spent time looking for more valuable items. Like the medicine.” I
patted the strap of my backpack that rested on my shoulder.

“That’s smart. But it involves
interacting with other people, so I prefer finding my essentials on my own. Of
course, it’s a little harder to find clothing because everyone needs it. The
good stuff is usually gone. And then there’s the rare situations where I’m in
need of something a little less common. Like the medicine.” He lightly patted
my backpack, mimicking my motion. “It’s no wonder your parents decided to
target that sort of thing. Very useful.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. His patting my
backpack had made me realize just how close he was sitting to me – only about a
foot between us – and it was a little disconcerting. I wanted to scoot away,
but he was sure to notice. Besides, he was obviously aware of our proximity,
and he felt perfectly comfortable with it. I should probably just let it go.

“One time, a teenager tried to kill me.
She got close enough to leave a cut on my arm.” He held his arm out and showed
me the cut I’d given him over a month ago. It was a healed, thin red line now;
it had never been that deep. “She didn’t know it, but that cut got infected. A
few more weeks and I would have been dead, just as she wanted. However, an
interesting change of circumstances gave me the opportunity to survive: I was
attacked by another group of people who were probably in need of something they
thought I had. The girl who wanted me dead? She
saved
me. She did it because
she
wanted to kill me, and didn’t want anyone else to take that from her. So, she
killed my attackers, and then patched me up. Then, she gave me medicine that
would stop any infection I might have – the exact medicine I needed to stop the
infection she’d already given me. The infection that would have killed me.

“Useful stuff, medicine.” He gave me a
warm smile.

I gaped at him. “You’re telling me that
I’d already
succeeded
at killing you,
only to interfere by trying to save your death for myself?”

“Not only that, but it would have been a
nice, slow death. I would have suffered, and you would have gotten to watch.”

“But you didn’t tell me that,” I accused.

“No, I didn’t. And here we are now: I’m
alive. And you no longer want me dead.”

“I didn’t say that. I said that I didn’t
have it in me to kill you.”

“Because now you know me too well.”

I rolled my eyes up at the sky. “Why are
you telling me this?”

“Telling you what?” he asked innocently.

“Why are you telling me about the
infection?”

“Because I’ve
wanted
to tell you for a while. And now, finally, you’re done
trying to kill me; it seemed like a good time.”

“But why does it even matter? You didn’t
die from that infection; you let me unknowingly give you the medicine that
saved you. It’s done. Nothing came of it. So why do you want me to know?”

“Because it’s an interesting twist of
fate. If things had just happened a little bit differently, I would have died,
and your revenge would have been fulfilled, and you would have been. . .”

“Alone.”

“Yes. Alone.” His eyes held mine.

I looked away.

“It’s just one of those things that makes
you think,” he continued, “and I wanted to share it with you.”

But
why
had he wanted to share it with me? Nothing changed by him saying it. He was
still him, and I was still me, and we still had some sort of understanding
between us that kept us from leaving the other.

Something occurred to me.

“You’re not just letting me stay with you
because you feel sorry for me, are you?” I asked him, meeting his eyes again; I
had the strange feeling they had never left my face.

“That’s exactly what I
was
doing,” he told me.

I blinked.

“Before I needed you to keep me alive,”
he added.

“And now?”

“Now I like you. There’s no reason for
you not to be around. And you need me, in whatever capacity. So it makes sense
for us to stay together for now.”

I hated him saying I
needed
him, as if he was stating that I was weak. But I couldn’t
tell him he was wrong, especially after my reaction to his disappearance just a
little while ago.

“Just so you know, just because I want to
be around you doesn’t mean I like you,” I told him.

He raised both of his eyebrows. “Do you
still
dis
like me?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted.

“Good,” he replied, still holding my gaze
as he reached forward and tapped my nose; he pushed himself to his feet. “Then
we’re making progress.”

Chapter 9

“How are you doing?” I asked, following
behind Gideon at a careful pace.

“I’m doing just fine, darling,” he said
over his shoulder, stepping carefully along the rocks. “I probably have another
two or so miles in me.”

The stream traveled south, Gideon had
informed me, and so we’d decided to follow along it for a while; it was a great
source of fresh water, as well as very “aesthetically pleasing,” as Gideon
termed it. The banks were rocky, but the lull of the water was very soothing.

“When we decide to stop for the day, I
want some time to wash up,” I said.

“Okay.”

“In private,” I added.

“I understand.”

“’Kay. Good.”

He glanced at me again, and we kept
walking. Forty-five minutes later he started looking around, eyeing the area a
bit more.

“Looking for a good stopping spot?” I
asked.

He nodded toward a point a little further
ahead, on the other side of the stream from where we were walking. “That look
good?”

The spot he indicated was directly beside
the water: a wedge of treeless land, bits of grass speckling the dirt. It was
still shaded by the trees, but had plenty of room so that we could camp by the
stream and also manage glimpses of the stars where the stream separated the
trees into a skylight.

“Very picturesque,” I commented. Though I
noticed that the spot was a little smaller than the ones we usually chose. I
wasn’t sure we’d be able to camp on opposite sides of the fire tonight; the
fire would have to be directly by the water’s edge, with us sharing the space
right behind it. Did Gideon notice this? I probably shouldn’t bring it up; he
might think it was weird that I was considering the space issue at all.

“Just one thing,” I added. I pointed at
the spot. “You aren’t going to be able to wait at our campsite while I’m in the
stream. You know. Bathing.”

“I wasn’t going to. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Er, yes.”

“I was going to look around and see if
there was anything to eat.”

“Aren’t you tired? I could do that part
after I’m done, and you can just sit a little further in the forest while I’m
out here.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m
not too tired to have a look around at the pickings. You good here?” He stopped
walking, and I did, too.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said.

“Alright, then. I’m off.” He lifted his
hand a little, a small wave, before crossing the stream and disappearing into
the trees.

I stood there, struck by my sudden
aloneness, watching the point at which he’d disappeared.

What if he hadn’t really been wanting to
look for food? What if he’d finally gotten tired of me?
I shook that off. One panic over that was enough for one day.

I dropped my backpack under a tree,
studying my surroundings for signs of intruders. I set my gun down on my
backpack. Then, very slowly, not trusting that I was really alone, I began to
undress. I gazed into the stream, trying to find the deepest spot of water
around the area I was in. When I recognized it as a pool about two feet deep, I
waded in, clothes held in my arms, and settled down in the water. I cleaned
each article of clothing as best I could, laying them out on the rocks beside
the water as I finished. Then, I thoroughly washed myself, finishing by leaning
forward to dunk my head under the water and using my fingers to roughly scrub
my scalp; I rubbed at my hair with the palms of my hands, and then pulled my
head back out of the water, sucking in a breath of air as my wet hair slapped
my back.

That’s when I saw him.

A man. Not Gideon. He was leaning against
a tree with crossed arms. And he was staring at me.

I immediately crossed my own arms over my
chest, sinking as deep into the shallow water as possible in order to shield
myself.

“Beautiful,” the man murmured, still
looking at me. It sounded so odd, hearing someone else’s voice after almost a
month of hearing no one but Gideon.

 
This man was ruddy and unkempt; his hair was
speckled with dirt, and that same dirt caked his clothes. He had a thick beard
across his chin, the growth of several days. His eyes were lined with red.

My gun was several feet away, still resting
on top of my backpack.

“My, er. . .” I cleared my throat. “My
boyfriend is nearby, looking for food. He’s the jealous type – kills anyone
that looks at me funny.” I was pretty sure Gideon didn’t feel this way about
me, but I did have the sense that he’d protect me if necessary, and I needed
anything
to get this man to leave me
alone.

“See, I’m not convinced of that,” the man
told me. “Why would your boyfriend leave such a pretty girl unattended? Very
irresponsible. Someone might try and steal her.” He grinned at me, and I could
see the food from his last meal, still trapped in his yellow teeth.

I took that moment to dive out of the
water, right for my gun. My hand fumbled the handle, only getting a firm grip
as the man reached my side. He grabbed my wrist, his nails scratching the skin
as he achieved an iron-like grip. He squeezed, trying to force me to drop the
gun, but I wasn’t letting go; even though the gun wasn’t trained on any part of
his body, I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the forest.

I dropped the gun.

With his hand still locked around my
wrist, he twisted my arm behind my back and shoved me, face-down, to the
ground. He used his upper body weight to hold me there while his other hand
fumbled with his jeans. I kicked at him with my legs, but with the leverage he
already had, it didn’t do much good.

Another shot exploded in my ears, and the
weight holding me down instantaneously disappeared; there was a thump.

“Candace, I’m not looking. Get your
clothes on, will you?” It was Gideon’s voice.

I scrambled to my feet, rushing to follow
his suggestion. I looked around for him as I stuck my legs through my pants; he
stood with his back to me about seven yards away – on the other side of the
stream and deep in the trees.

When I finished dressing, I shouldered my
backpack and walked to his side.

“Can I look now?” he murmured, staring
forcefully ahead with crossed arms.

“Yes,” I whispered, my own arms wrapped
tightly around myself as if to stave off a cold wind.

His eyes immediately came to rest on me,
and I couldn’t mistake the worried furrow of his brows.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” My voice was still a whisper. I
couldn’t meet his eyes, so I looked off to the side. “Thank you.”

“I heard your gunshot. I could only think
of two reasons why you might be firing: you had come across food, or you had an
unwelcome guest. Either way, I wanted to be there.” His tone was wry, and he
was still looking at me.

I wasn’t sure whether his gaze bothered
me or not, but I didn’t want to be alone, either. It obviously wasn’t very safe
for me to be alone.

“I know you still don’t care for me too
much, but . . . you should let me know if you could use a hug.”

My eyes snapped back to him, checking to
see whether he was still teasing. There was no hint of humor there. Moreover,
there was something else. I couldn’t quite place it, but it might have been
yearning.

I bit my lip, looking down at the ground.
What would it mean, to hug him? He was the man who killed my parents and, not
too long ago, I had wanted to kill him with every fiber of my being. How had we
gotten to this point?

He turned and started walking for the
stream. “Stay here for a sec. That guy didn’t have any pants on when I killed
him, and
no one
deserves to
unexpectedly have that sight meet their eyes.”

I obeyed, all the while thinking:
What would it mean to hug Gideon?

After a few moments, Gideon called to me.
“Alright, Candace.”

I followed his voice to the edge of the
stream.
“I don’t think we should camp here anymore,” he told me, standing in front of
the man’s body; I tried not to look at it. Gideon’s position in front of the
body seemed to suggest he’d known I wouldn’t want to. “First of all, I don’t
want you having nightmares. Second, we don’t know if this guy had any traveling
companions. If he did, we don’t want to find out if they’re the kind who’ll
hold a grudge for him.”

“Okay,” I nodded, crossing the stream to
him. “But are you up for more walking?”

“I’ll manage just fine; safety is more
important.” He nodded in the direction we’d been heading before: south. Then,
he started walking, his limp pronounced.

“Gideon?”

He stopped, looking back at me with that
crease still between his brows. “Yeah?”

“I . . . I think I could use a hug.” My heart
pounded as I said the words, my arms still wrapped around myself, my hands
balled into fists.

His lips parted as he stared at me. He
wasn’t taken aback, but seemed surprised that I’d said what I had. Then, he
started back to me. He stopped just a foot from me, looked down into my eyes,
and consumed every detail of my face. Then, he reached his hands out, gently
pulled my arms apart, and pulled me into him.

Warmth enveloped me. He was soft, but
firm, and so warm. My cheek rested on his chest, and his arms encircled me,
very carefully tightening around me – not too tight, but enough to hold me
close to him.

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low in my
ear as he rested his chin on my head.

“Yes,” I managed to breathe.

“Tell me if it’s not, Candace. I’m never
going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

His heart beat a deep, uneven rhythm
against my cheek; the sound and feel of it was very comforting. “Why is your
heartbeat uneven?” I whispered.

He chuckled, the sound deep and
reverberating through his chest; I could feel the sound through my entire body.
“I just never thought you’d let me hug you.”

I stood there, letting him hug me. It
made me feel less alone. Safe. Protected. Less vulnerable. But it also made me
feel
more
vulnerable, in a completely
different way than I had ever felt vulnerable before.

That hug was the best thing I had felt in
so long. But it was also scarier than anything I might have ever felt before.
The only thing that would have been scarier at that moment was facing the world
without Gideon.

~ * ~

We walked. The daylight slowly vanished
behind the trees, and the forest grew dark. Still, we walked.

“Isn’t this far enough?” I asked, peering
at the shadow in front of me that was Gideon and noticing his limp; we were
barely making any progress now, and I was sure he was in pain.

“Just a little further,” he murmured. “I
want to make it a good three miles away.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling guilty, like it
was my fault he was in pain at that moment. Funny, since I used to wish for any
sort of pain I could cause him. It was different now.

“This is absolutely not your fault,
Candace. Don’t apologize.”

I bit my lip, then thought of something.
“Can I carry your pack for you?”

Gideon paused; I almost ran into him. “If
you don’t mind,” he mumbled, pulling it off his shoulders and turning to me. “I
don’t think it’s too heavy for you, since we haven’t refilled our bottles yet.”
He gestured for me to turn my back to him; I did, and he carefully placed his
backpack over mine. “Feel okay?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Three miles will make
today only a total of five miles. Your recovery time might have caused me to
get out of shape, but I’m not
that
out of shape. I could easily handle another five miles
with
your backpack.”

“Good to hear it,” he said, facing
forward and continuing to walk. “Just don’t shoot me with my own gun while my
back is turned; I’d prefer to be looking at you when you kill me.” His tone was
joking, but his words sent my heart straight to the pit of my stomach.

“I’m not going to kill you, Gideon,” I
murmured quietly.

“I know,” he replied, serious.

We kept walking. About ten minutes later
he stopped.

“I’m about to drop right where I’m
standing,” he admitted to me, his voice echoing his exhaustion. “That spot
there look okay to you?” he nodded to a crevice between two trees up ahead.
There wasn’t much room, but it was more room than I’d seen between the trees
for at least half a mile.

“Okay,” I murmured, worriedly watching as
Gideon took those last few steps and eased himself down. He immediately laid
back, closing his eyes.

I leaned over the stream, drinking the
water. Then I took one of his empty bottles out of his pack and filled it to
the brim; I carried it to his side and kneeled down.

“Here,” I said, holding it out.

He squinted up at me, then took the
water. He raised his head and drank it down as quickly as possible, then laid
back again. “Thanks,” he murmured.