Strikers (35 page)

And now I’m left with the regret of having not killed Creedy, which just feels wrong in every way. I also fear him finding us and perhaps doing what he must have done to those other women. The sigh I let out is loud enough to hear over the breeze and Cassi sinks to the deck next to me, tucking one arm around mine. “Don’t be mad,” she says, brightly.

“I’m not mad,” I say. When she gives me a skeptical look, I correct myself, “Okay, I’m mad, but I’ll get over it. It’s just that Jovan has known, or at least suspected, that this Creedy is the worst kind of creep and not shared that? I wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him had I known that. Just think of what would happen if he got hold of you, Cassi. Or me for that matter, if what he says is true.”

Cassi squints in the sun but doesn’t look away from me. She’s always been good that way, at listening. Maybe it’s because someone has always had to read everything to her, giving her practice, but I don’t think so. I think it is just that she has a much kinder and more patient nature than anyone else I know.

She gives a little hum as she thinks, then says, “And what would have happened had you or I known that it wasn’t just a chase?”

I shake my head, thinking of that day in the dry streambed, “We did know that. We knew they were probably going to kill us if they caught us. That’s more than a chase, Cassi.”

“True, but we—as girls—weren’t the targets of anything in specific. We always knew we could ask Jovan to go back and that would be the end of it.”

At my look, she adds, “Okay. It would probably be the end of it if we kept going fast.”

I nod.

“I don’t know about you, but if I had time to dwell on what Jovan just told us, then I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. I would have been even more frightened. I might have done something I would regret. Maddix,” she says, giving me a significant look.

“Oh,” I say. I know what she’s saying. If I try to put myself in that frame of mind, one that fears what a man like Creedy might do if he catches me, I can see how I might make mistakes. I can see how waiting for Maddix to heal up in that old building might have seemed too much to ask.

And yes, I would have regretted leaving Maddix behind or not giving him time to heal. And if we had pushed, would Maddix have lived through his injury? Would he have been strong enough for all that we had to do when we left that building? Possibly not. Did Jovan somehow understand this about me, or perhaps understand it of Cassi? It would be just like him and that thought makes my anger drain away.

Cassi nudges me and says, “You should go talk to him. I dunno, maybe apologize for calling him yellow-livered?”

I roll my eyes, because I distinctly recall my mismatched insult. In my defense, I was too angry to think straight. Marcus says that the news of the reward will travel fast and that the guards at the wall gates are not all immune to such a bribe. He’s offered to bring us further south, almost to the mouth of the river itself, where he’s from. The wall retreats but the gates are trustworthy there and the people known to him.

I can’t fault his logic, though I know having hands on board to help him and keep watch is part of his thinking. That, and Cassi. At night, he takes the wheel but during the middle part of the day, he allows Jovan or me, or both of us, to guide the boat in the wide river with only a small sail and the current to push us on. We won’t be able to slow down now and Jovan and I will need to work together. Which means I do need to go make up with him, even if only so that we can work together in harmony.

Cassi hops back up, her bare feet red on top from going without shoes in the bright sun, and almost bounces her way over to stand by Marcus. They fall into quiet talking, their heads close together in a way that tells me they’re getting along just fine. The way they talk and look at each other makes it seem like they are mere seconds away from kissing most of the time.

I sigh again and grudgingly get up to go make my apologies. I’m no good at that. Having to apologize and be sorry about things means I did something I regret and that means I lost control of my thoughts, my words or my actions. I don’t like that idea at all. I’ve always felt like there was so little in my life I could control that what I
chose
to do was all that I truly possessed. Losing my temper just shows me that I didn’t keep the control that was mine.

I tap his shoulder, even though I’m quite sure he heard my hard footsteps on the deck. I don’t seem to be able to keep my heels from striking the deck with the same firmness they do when I wear boots. It hurts, but it’s also quite satisfying.

He looks up at me, his eyes flashing that golden, bird-of-prey color in the sun. His face is a study in conflicting emotions and he looks miserable. “I’m sorry,” he blurts.

“No. I’m sorry,” I counter and sit next to him. The deck is warm on my behind through the shorts. I finally found some that fit while digging in a pile inside the storage pit under the bed. It feels good to be dressed. We sit there, both of us with our knees pulled up and arms braced on them for a long while. I can’t delay forever. Marcus will need to sleep soon and our hard feelings should be resolved before we take over the boat. Otherwise, our watch will be interminable.

“Jovan, I shouldn’t have called you names. It was wrong,” I begin tentatively, but get no further. It seems my opening was all he was waiting for.

“I should have told you, but I just…I don’t know…I couldn’t stand the idea of saying that to you. Or to Cassi. It’s so,” he pauses while he searches for a word, then adds, “dirty. Filthy. I figured that if it came down to it, I’d kill him and no one would need to worry.”

I remember the gunshots when Jovan rushed out of the woods and ask, “Is that what you were going to do before we went to the bridge?”

He nods, his face grim. “I screwed that up, too.”

He looks so forlorn that I reach for his hand. It’s a strain because we’ve both got our arms crossed on our knees and I wind up holding his far hand with mine. When I grip his hand in mine, it turns our knees just enough for them to touch. When he entwines his fingers with mine, our thighs press together and it’s almost like an electric shock to my system. We sit like that for a moment, an expression I don’t quite understand in his eyes as he stares at me.

“Do you remember the grasshopper?” he asks softly.

I laugh because I do remember. It wasn’t the first kiss we’d shared, because he’d kissed my cheek and I his since we were nine or ten, but it was the first time he’d kissed my lips. I was fourteen and he must have just turned fifteen. And just as he did, under that hot summer sun behind the school, a grasshopper disturbed by us had jumped right onto his face. We’d both leapt back, surprised, and the moment was gone as fast as the grasshopper who decided his new perch wasn’t to his liking.

“I remember it,” I say and squeeze his hand.

“I wish no one had seen us,” he says and I can hear the regret in his voice. The regret is because it wasn’t just our first real kiss, it had been our last as well.

“Me, too,” I say.

I’m pretty sure that this would be the perfect time for him to try again. We aren’t drowning, there are no teachers to run and tell his father, no Army ready to send him to do his duty. And best of all, I think I’m ready for him to kiss me.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he kisses my hand and lets it go. He smiles at me, guileless and quite clearly unaware that he has missed the perfect moment, then runs a lock of my hair through his hand, letting it fall to the deck with the rest.

“We need to get Marcus to go below and get some sleep. The wind is coming up, so you should get ready, braid your hair, or put it up in one of those cute buns or something. We might need the money from selling it soon, so you should take care of it.”

He grins and winks to give lie to his mercenary words, so I smile back and go.

Our watch is smooth sailing, which is a new term for me but one I like immensely. The river is free of obstacles and there isn’t a single port to go past. A vast marsh, the likes of which I could never have imagined, stretches to the west as far as I can see and beyond. Skeletal trees, their branches almost absurdly crooked, reach up out of the marsh at intervals while others crowd in patches with great knobby knees poking up out of the water all around them. It’s beautiful, but creepy.

There are other vessels on the water, barges and wider sailing vessels loaded with goods, but most of those we pass quickly. I keep my braid tucked up under a cap and wear a baggy shirt, which gives the impression that I’m a boy. It works, from a distance. So far, Marcus assures us that no one knows we’re on his boat. Even his cousin at the port wasn’t sure until he saw how carefully we approached the port. I’d like to be sure any suspicion stays far from us.

Once full night falls, Marcus returns, eager to get back at the wheel. He’s pleased with our work and that makes me happier than I might have expected. There something very satisfying about doing a job you’re completely unprepared for relatively well.

Cassi comes up a few minutes after Marcus, which I’m sure she thinks is discreet, but she’s not fooling anyone and Jovan gives Marcus a hard look when he sees her mussed hair. She see it and says, “No, Jovan. You can settle down right now. It’s not like that.”

It takes Marcus a few seconds to catch on but he bristles when he understands and says, “I’m not that guy.”

“Alright, now that we’ve got
that
out of the way,” I say, sarcasm fully engaged.

Cassi snorts and starts some food going on the deck stove, shaking her head as she goes. “I’m keeping watch tonight,” she asserts, lighting the stove and handing Jovan the coffee pot so he can fill it with water. She raises an eyebrow and adds, “So I was sleeping.”

Despite everything, the days pass in such peace that it seems a long time ago we were stumbling through the dark woods in abject fear. It’s given me time to think, which is both good and bad. I’ve had time to think of my father and the half-brother who must surely have heard the news by now if the gate-keepers or Maddix passed it on as promised. It gives me time to think of my mother, to worry whether or not she’s eating and wonder if she’s at all worried about me in turn. Or is she simply angry that my Striking brought people with questions to our home and interrupted her nightly bottle? I’ll probably never know.

Other thoughts crowd in, demanding their turn at the forefront. I’m not immune to a little self-pity now and then, and the uncertainty of our future probably adds to that. I push those fearful thoughts away as soon as I realize it because they won’t help me right this minute. Surviving now is the best road to having any future at all when it comes right down to it.

Cassi seems content to stay on the boat forever, and I confess that I’ve grown rather fond of it as well. Jovan seems to be taking to the work of manning a boat like he was born to it. At least, Marcus claims that is the case. Now that we’re so far from where we left Maddix and Connor, it seems silly to worry over a little more distance, and I’m not the only one that can smell the change in the air. Marcus tells us that it is the scent of the Gulf. The ocean. While Cassi is almost beside herself with excitement over the prospect, I’m anxious to see it, too.

Weslyn, the town that Marcus is from, rolls into view one early morning while the sky still has hints of pink dawn in it. A radio I didn’t even know Marcus had squawks suddenly and the smile on his face after he answers calms my immediate panic. It must be a family member, given the way they interact on the radio, but he is discreet where we’re concerned, only saying that he’s brought home some friends.

The port isn’t a large one. It isn’t even really a port, but rather a community of people whose living is made on the water and who therefore, need extensive pier facilities. There’s a larger pier, now empty, at the far end that looks big enough for trade or passenger vessels. It must be if the signs posted all over it are a reliable indicator.

Like every other port we’ve seen, this one is a mix of old and new. Gray boards are interspersed with newer brown ones, the smell of fish is pervasive, and the tiny shops that border the piers are so close together they’re almost piled atop one another.

The marsh in this area is absent save for small patches to the sides of the piers, which is handy for more than just building a town on firm ground. It keeps boat traffic from approaching except at the piers and no one in their right mind would try to walk across it. The mud is deep enough that it can suck down a full grown man, Marcus claims.

Jovan and Marcus do the docking and tying up, Cassi and I remaining unseen below until the situation can be figured out. We busy ourselves by creating disguises, sticking with the standard boy disguises since it’s been working well up to now. For Cassi it’s a more difficult problem because she is so obviously a girl in every way. Clever binding, a bit of padding around her middle and a cap hiding her hair transform her into a rather pudgy fresh-faced boy. I’m skinny and wiry enough that it’s almost too easy to turn me into a boy, but my hair comes past my butt and I do look like my head is just a little too big with it all wrapped up under a hat.

The wait is interminable and by the time Jovan pokes his head down, the entire main area of the boat is as clean as it’s probably ever been. Even Marcus’s unusually large clothes stash is neatly folded and separated by type in the storage areas.

“Wow, we should trap you two down here more often,” Jovan says and whistles in appreciation.

My scowl wipes the grin off his face and he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. We’re good but you guys are going to need to just go straight to where we’re staying. It’s pretty clear of people right now, but you know the drill.”

A last check of our disguises, mostly to tuck stray curls back into Cassi’s cap, and we go. When I step onto the pier, I feel almost immediately unsure of my feet. It feels like I’m wobbling, or rather, that the ground is wobbling beneath me. The dizziness only lasts for a few seconds, but the disturbing sensation lingers in the background while we follow Jovan.