Donor 23 (39 page)

The clarity of his assessment struck her. He hit it on the head. Duncan’s voice pierced the shadows of her consciousness. Was it with Duncan that Joan first experienced this exquisite feeling of ease, of solace? It was different from her comfort with Reck. Different from her talks with Bash and Old Owl. What could compare to the openness, sincerity, and candidness she shared at one time with Duncan? They would often sit in silence and watch the sun disappear behind the Center’s grandstand.

“Yes. Right. You killed that ruff, didn’t you?” she asked, not in an accusing tone, but in one of empathy.

Silence. She tried to determine if he was nodding but couldn’t tell.

Finally, from the dark, “Yeah.”

“What happened, anyway?”

She heard him take a deep breath. He poked with a stick at the embers in front of him, stirring them—angering the sleeping cinders into a short, yet furious, blaze of light. The brief flame illuminated their faces for a moment, and their eyes met.

“Stabbed him.”

Darkness returned. She thought of Garth.

“I killed a man, a settler.” She hadn’t planned on baring her soul, but it came out. “Hit his head, again and again. He was holding on to me when I did it, had his hand around my ankle.”

“Hard to get the look on their face out of your head, isn’t it?”

She nodded. Of course, Duncan didn’t see her.

“Yeah,” she spoke, “you can see in their face they didn’t want to die.”

“Exactly. At that very moment, they would have given their entire fortune, every treasure, everything they had, just to be allowed to live.”

For a while they stared at each other’s outline in the black.

With trepidation she asked, “I have to know. Do you know about my mom? What I—”

“Yes,” he stopped her. He didn’t want her to have to speak it. “I tried to tell you that before, that it wasn’t your fault.”

Joan looked up at the moon. She couldn’t see Duncan, but she believed he gazed at it, too.

“Today, when you said that about my phone hiding my tattoo, why’d you say that?”

“Well, it did, didn’t it? I mean, whenever I came up to you at the Center, you always fiddled with the phone, making sure it covered it.”

Perplexed, she asked, “You figured that out now?”

They still whispered, so as to not wake Bash or Isabel, but strangely that served to amplify the passion.

He sighed, sounding frustrated. “No. Of course not. I knew it then.”

Joan pressed him, “You knew I was a donor? For how long?”

He answered in a short, terse statement that rattled her to the bone. “From the beginning.”

“I don’t understand,” Joan uttered.

He made a sound—a noise conveying his aggravation and his disappointment.

“Well, you never said anything. Never let on,” she persisted.

“At first it didn’t matter. We just talked a few times. But then later, we got closer…You were so cautious, so careful about it.
I didn’t want you to know I knew. I thought you should tell me when you were ready. Jack agreed with me.”

“But—”

“No. Let me finish,” Duncan interrupted. He had held this bottled up for too long, and he let loose. “You were so stuck on status. Still are. Do you know how frustrating that is? You use that as an excuse—an excuse to hold back, to wall yourself in. See, and then you can blame it all on others, on the System, on the Alliance…whatever, but not on you. ‘It’s not your fault,’ you tell yourself. That’s very convenient and safe for you.
You
cared about the fact you were a donor. I didn’t. What kills me is you wouldn’t even give me a chance. You just assumed I’d dump you if I found out. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Open your eyes, will you? You’re guilty of the very thing Nox is—all the citizens.”

Even in a whisper, his resentment showed. A flashlight shone through the trees. They both turned toward the light, as it rocked to and fro in rhythm with the person’s gait. Reck was returning from his sentry shift. Joan turned back to Duncan. Through the shadows she saw his outline make its way through the dark, to his sleeping bag.

After a quick breakfast, the party packed up for the day’s travel. Duncan said nothing. He did not even look her way as he packed up his tent and belongings.

The previous night’s encounter plagued Joan, as she tied her belongings to her horse.
How dare he blame her!
she thought
. And how dare he compare her to Nox and to the citizens.
She shook her head in irritation.

She didn’t yet understand that a person could keep things hidden from others, but also hidden from his or herself, locked away in places, in dark caves, even he or she can’t see. Often,
only certain other people can access those locked away places and shine a light in the caves and see things the person never saw.

Joan stared at Duncan. He glanced her way and after a pause—seeming to think—he strode toward her. She steeled herself and was readying a response—just then a Resistance soldier came running up from Lucas’s camp.

“Caught an AA,” he shouted, and then he ran back to the main camp.

“AA” was short for the Alliance army. Reck jumped on his horse and rode swiftly to the main camp, anxious to see the AA. Joan stared at Duncan—wanting to talk with him, but he turned from Joan and mounted his horse.

“I hope that doesn’t mean they’re close,” Duncan commented to Bash, as they made their way toward the center of the camp. The others, including Joan, rode slowly behind him.

The AA hung from a tree, his hands tied together. It reminded Joan of Duncan, when the ruffs were tormenting him. The sun, low in the morning sky, shone from behind the man. As she approached, Joan could make out the outline of the soldier, a thin man. Two Resistance soldiers stood on either side of him. Reck stood in front of him.

As she got closer, he became clearer. The man wore all black. It was Nox. She stopped her horse.

Reck called to her, “Joan, it’s Nox. Come on!”

Bash pulled up alongside her. “You OK?”

She nodded and kicked her horse forward. Lucas, Spiller, and some others talked in a huddle, about ten feet from Nox. Spiller glanced at Joan and the others as they rode up.

He explained, “We caught him in the early hours. We’ve been working on him, getting information. He’s a TEO, though, not army. They’ve got a search party, not far behind us.”

Joan examined Nox. The Resistance had definitely worked on him. He was bruised and bloodied. He had been burned,
too. Joan was surprised she hadn’t heard his screams at their camp, if he had screamed, of course.

Reck confronted Nox, “It’s your fault Kaleb was killed. You killed him. He was my friend.” He swung at the helpless Nox, hitting him in the face. Reck had never struck anyone. Not realizing the force of the blow would be equal to that on his own hand, he let out a small grunt. He held his hand and shook it out. Then he hit him again.

Lucas raised his eyebrows at Reck’s outburst and nodded to Spiller, who stopped Reck. “OK. OK, Tyndall. Enough.”

Reck argued, “He killed my friend, Colonel.” He motioned to Joan. “
Our
friend. And her mother and her father, sir.”

Lucas jerked his head toward Joan.

“That true?” Lucas asked her. “He killed your parents?”

She made no move and did not answer. She just stared at Nox.

Reck answered for her, “Yes sir, General, it’s true.”

“Well, then, you’re in time for his execution,” Lucas grabbed the reins of his horse.

Duncan broke in, “Execution? Why aren’t you taking him as a prisoner to Seaton?”

“We can’t take a prisoner with us,” Spiller answered for him.

“You’ll kill him in cold blood?” Duncan persisted.

“Look, Starr, the AA doesn’t usually bother us out here. This is a new strategy for them to chase us. He death will be a good deterrent—a lesson to the Alliance to hang back, leave us alone out here,” Spiller explained.

He nodded to one of his men, who pulled out a handgun and approached Nox.

Nox looked up when he heard Duncan’s voice.

“Starr, that you? Thought you were dead.”

“I’m alive,” Duncan said.

“Prisoner?” he struggled to ask.

“No. I’m free,” Duncan told him.

“Deserted?” he asked incredulously. Nox shook his head in bewilderment and incomprehension.

Reck held out his arm to the soldier with the gun. “Wait, let us do it, sir. Let Joan. If she doesn’t want to, then I will. It’s only fair, Colonel.”

Spiller started to say no, but Lucas offered, “If you want to, Lionheart. Go ahead.”

Still Joan said nothing.

Reck spoke to her, “Joan, you should do it. We should do it. For Kaleb.”

Lucas continued to watch Joan. She stared at Nox.

“I guess we have our answer. She doesn’t want to,” Lucas stated.

Reck took a breath. “Then I’ll do it. Can I, sir?”

He slipped the rifle off his shoulder, turned toward Nox, and appeared to steel himself.

“No.” Joan finally spoke.

Everyone looked at her.

Devoid of emotion, she said, “I’ll do it. But I want to be alone. I want some time alone with him. Is that OK, General?”

Lucas studied her. “Fine,” he said. “We’re going to head out. Just catch up with us.”

Bash leaned in to Joan and put his hand on her arm, “Joan, giving death for death isn’t going to bring anyone back. Taking a life—”

“I know what I’m doing,” she interrupted and pulled her arm away. “My ghosts.”

41

I
t took a few minutes for everyone to ride out.

Reck said to her, “Make sure he knows this is for Kaleb and your parents.”

Duncan exited last.

Joan was alone with Nox. She nudged her horse toward him, as Nox raised his head.

“Surprised me when you let your friend get killed. Didn’t expect that.”

She kept slowly getting closer to him.

“You really don’t have any loyalty, do you? None of your type does. And it looks like you’ve contaminated Starr. You’ve ruined his life.”

His voice was raspy and rough. She walked up to him with the great animal and held up her canteen. The last thing Nox
wanted was to take water from her, but thirst is a commanding sensation, not to be denied. He eyed the bottle. Joan unscrewed the cap and poured the precious libation into his mouth. She didn’t allow the bottle to touch his lips, instead forcing him to turn his face up to her and open his mouth wide. Then she leisurely urged her horse around him, behind him.

Still saying nothing, she unnerved him. He was the prey. He didn’t know how to act or what to do.

Thirty yards down the trail, Duncan held his horse back and turned around. He walked it into the brush, his eyes searching for the right place, as he studied Joan. Sliding off his horse, he found the spot he searched for. From this vantage point, he had a perfect view of Nox. He saw Joan, still on her horse, circling him. She gave the man water.
Perhaps this was a waste of time, and his presence here unnecessary,
he thought. But he had to be prepared, just in case.

On his shoulder, Duncan carried the bow and quiver full of arrows and that Arrow Comes Back had given him. He slipped off the quiver, pulled out an arrow, and nocked it in the bow. He drew back and took aim. Holding his breath, he lightened on his draw. Joan was still on her horse. No rush. He watched her ride to around Nox’s back.