Humanity (20 page)

“Pencil and paper, yes. Shall we go? As
you pointed out, he doesn’t have much time.” He started out the door and I
followed; the guards’ eyes watched us, but I didn’t spare them a glance.

“Can we run?” I asked, even though my
legs shook at the thought.

He smiled oddly. “Yes. Why not?” He
started into a jog, then sped up as I kept pace with him.

As we ran, I thought about what I could
say in that note. I focused all my thoughts on what I would write. I didn’t
want to think about what might happen after, and I wanted to give Gideon as
much to remember me by as possible – I wanted to tell him everything positive I
had ever felt for him. I wanted to tell him to go to Mexico, to start over
without me, to live so that my sacrifice could be worth it. I wanted to share
with him all my favorite memories of us – the first night we fell asleep
holding hands, or when I had watched him sew my shirt, or the way his eyes lit
up whenever I returned from something as short as a restroom break. I wanted to
say so much to him.

Most of all, I wanted to tell him I
forgave him. Why hadn’t I said it sooner? At some point, whether or not I
forgave him had faded into the background, an issue we never discussed. It
should have been more important to me to tell him how I felt about it. Hadn’t I
really forgiven him back when I’d wanted to forget about his killing my parents
so that I could simply
be
with him?

Maybe he already knew. When you loved
someone enough, forgiveness came like giving anything else. It was there, and
it was unconditional.

With these thoughts, I remembered the
little story Gideon had told me months before, when I had asked him to talk to
me to help me forget about other memories. I had obsessed about that story for
hours, wondering at its meaning, deciding that the message was that love could
be a strong motivation.

What I had missed was that it was a
strong motivation to
forgive
. Now I
understood. I would forgive Gideon of anything because of the love I felt for
him. I’d do anything for him.

Even sacrifice my life.

How had things happened this way? The
only reason I’d ever known him was because I had wanted to kill him. Now, I was
giving
my life to save his. How had
that happened?

It was because I’d fallen in love with
him. Somehow, unbelievably, I’d fallen in love with him. And love could
overcome any pain he had previously caused.

But I couldn’t say any of this in the
note I was going to leave him. I didn’t know this man I was running with – I
didn’t know him any better than what he and Gideon had said – but I was certain
he wouldn’t want Gideon finding his way back to me. He would read the note, to
make certain I hadn’t left any hints to where I’d gone.

More than that, though, I couldn’t leave
this man any hints as to where Gideon might go. I wanted Gideon to go to
Mexico, but he’d have to figure it out without me, because I would never betray
him so harshly by letting this man know that’s where Gideon might be headed.

The note would have to be simple, and yet
say everything I’d ever felt for him. How could I accomplish that?

The hours ticked away; we reached the
grove and entered the trees. Just before we hit the camp, I turned to the man.

“Can I have the medicine now? And the
pencil and paper?”

“He’s just there?” he asked, nodding into
the clearing; a bead of sweat trickled down his sideburns.

“Yes,” I replied.

The man unshouldered his pack and
shuffled through his belongings. “Paper. Pencil. And the medicine,” he said,
handing each to me in turn. “And I’ll want to see what you write; turn the
pencil in to me before leaving the note.”

“I assumed that’d be the case,” I said; I
opened each medicine bottle, counting to make sure there was enough. Then I
turned my back to him and placed the paper against the smoothest spot of tree I
could see around us. I leaned in to write:

Gideon,

     
My driving force is you. Take one pill every 4 hours for 24 hours, then
one pill every 12 hours till they’re gone.

I love you,

   
Candace

“I’ll have my gun on you the entire time
you’re over there, so don’t try anything,” he murmured.

I didn’t respond. Without looking back at
the man, I walked into our camp, assuming he’d read what I’d written from over
my shoulder.

Gideon was exactly where I had left him:
lying on the ground with his back pressed against a tree. His face was red;
sweat gathered on his forehead. He hadn’t moved at all for the last six or so
hours, but his body trembled.

I rushed to him, wiping the sweat away
and kissing his brow. Then, while I was at it, I kissed the rest of his face:
his nose, his cheeks, his lips, then went to his ears and his neck. I pulled
away and brought the medicine bottles to my attention; I popped the lid off
each, taking two pills and getting a water bottle ready. I struggled with his
weight, pushing him to his back before lifting his head; his lips parted, and I
stuck my fingers into his mouth, wedging the pills as far into his throat as
possible before pulling my fingers back and trickling some water into his
mouth, rinsing the pills down.

He reflexively swallowed, and some part
of me finally relaxed. He was going to live.

But I wouldn’t be here to see him wake.

I pushed that thought away, busying
myself with the bottles, arranging them a foot in front of his face, using them
to weigh down the note I’d written. I placed my backpack at the foot of the
tree; I wouldn’t be needing anything in there anymore. Then, finally, I leaned
in to him again, bringing my lips close to his ear.

“I forgive you,” I whispered. I placed
one more kiss on his lips, then pushed myself up.

I walked away.

Chapter 19

“Took long enough, didn’t you,” the man
said, taking my arm as I left Gideon behind. What he’d said wasn’t a question,
just a statement.

“You’ll take your time, too, I’m sure,” I
replied, my tone cold as I allowed him to drag me along. “I assume we’re not
running back, if you’re going to drag me the entire way.”

“I assume you’ve spent all your energy.
I’m in no rush.”

“Neither am I, I suppose.” When he didn’t
say anything more, I fell silent, letting the dread creep up on me.

No, I couldn’t do that. I unthinkingly
straightened my back as I walked, realizing that, even though Gideon was taken
care of now, I still had to be strong. I couldn’t let the dread take over – my
parents wouldn’t have wanted that, and neither would Gideon.

Gideon had always said life was about
surviving. That was no longer an option for me, but I was still breathing at
the moment. I was still living, even if that wasn’t going to last much longer.

I took a deep breath and focused on the
sounds and smells around me, clearing my thoughts; I focused on
being
and, even though I knew my being
wouldn’t last, peace descended over me.

My hand went to the necklace Gideon had
given me, and my mind traveled over what I’d said in my note. It was true; he
was my motivation for every day. His driving force might have been survival,
but I knew it was no longer only that. It was me. And he was my driving force,
too. I wanted him to know that; I wanted him to know he fueled my every
decision.

And not in the same way that he had when
we’d first met; then, he’d fueled my every decision for his death. Now, he
fueled my every decision for his life and happiness.

How would he feel when he realized I was
gone?
I couldn’t think about that. It was enough to know that he would survive; I
knew he had the strength to carry on without me. He was strong; it was one of
the many things I loved about him.

Him being my driving force was what
pushed me forward now, what helped me take each and every step with the man
beside me. Knowing that, even though I’d be gone, he’d still survive, gave me
such a sense of peace. Happiness, almost.

At that thought, a veil seemed to lift
away from my mind. My thoughts went back to my parents, and I realized
something that I’d never recognized before: my parents might have died, but
they had died with a partner, with each other, and having had a daughter.
Wasn’t that the closest thing to happiness they could have achieved in this
world? They had been happy. They really hadn’t ever needed me to avenge their
deaths. Again, Gideon had been very right.

I realized this because it was the same
for me now. I might be close to death, but I had achieved so much happiness
with Gideon. And, now that I’d realized my forgiveness for him, I also had no
internal conflict over that happiness. I highly doubted my life could get any
better from this point, because I’d already had so many good things with Gideon
– not to mention having experienced what it was like to have parents who loved
me. My life was full, complete. There was no reason for me not to move on.

Except Gideon. He would have to live on
without me. But he was strong; he could do that.

The time passed, and we soon neared the
commune. As promised, though, we didn’t go to that particular house; instead,
we turned two doors early, into the yard of a different home.

It was then, of all times, that the
beauty of the house struck me. What had Gideon called this? Aesthetic appeal?
He had tried so hard to get me to see the aesthetic appeal of something before
– at the carnival, at the mall – but I had always gotten hung up on the history
of the object: it had been created by humans, for humans, and had then been
deserted by humans. What could have been beautiful about that?

Gideon had insisted that the beauty was
in how nature had changed the object in humanity’s absence: the sunlight on the
Easter bunny, the colors of the broken glass. I could never appreciate it the
way he could. Until now.

Even though I knew this house we stood
before was the house in which I was going to die, I could still see the beauty
of the remains of civilization joining with nature as the green vines snaked up
the brick walls. Humanity had left this home, but nature had taken it and
created something else – perhaps something even more beautiful.

The aesthetic appeal was undeniable. How
had I ever missed it? I wished I could share with Gideon my new insight, but it
was too late; I would never see him again.

The man led me into the house.

“Why this house in particular?” I asked.

“There’s no particular reason; it’s just
convenient.”

“Huh. Gideon would have liked the
exterior.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Why’s that?”
He pulled me up a set of stairs.

“The aesthetic beauty.”

He paused. “How did you and Gideon meet?”

I hesitated, then answered. “He killed my
parents.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh?” He took me into
a room at the far corner of the hall. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“Well then, take a seat. Anywhere will
do.”

I looked around at the empty, dusty
carpet, then eased myself down and crossed my legs, leaning my back against a
wall.

“Comfy?” he asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, because you’ll be here awhile.” He
took his backpack off and rummaged through it until he brought out a length of
rope.

“You’re going to tie me up? I’m not going
to run away.”

“No, you won’t, but you’ll try. It’s
human nature to protect oneself from injury -
 
instinct. I can’t let that happen.”

I sighed, holding out my hands. He looped
the rope around them, tying a tight knot before taking out a sharp knife and
cutting off the excess.

“Your legs, please.”

I obediently straightened them so that he
could tie my ankles. “Are you going to gag me, too?”

“No; there’s no reason to, and I think
I’ll rather enjoy it when you scream in pain. Now, you might want to brace
yourself.” He lifted the knife.

Chapter 20
- Gideon

“I
forgive you.”

The words echoed in my head, like the
pitter patter of rain.

“I
forgive you.”

So long had I waited to hear them. So
long had I imagined what they would sound like sliding off her lips. And yet,
now, I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t simply imagined them again.

“I
forgive you.”

My eyes opened, feeling heavy and
encrusted with sleep. I blinked up at the darkening sky, feeling disoriented.
Those were the orange trees I stared up at, but why was night coming?

I tried to think back to the last thing I
remembered, and a foggy image came to mind: Candace playing checkers in the
dirt with me. She was worried, and so was I.

Because we both knew I was going to die.

I sat bolt-upright, my shoulder searing
with the movement and my other hand knocking into something on the ground;
whatever it was went rolling, but I didn’t look after it. Instead, I looked
around for Candace.

Our camp was empty; I was the only one
here.

Where had she gone? I’d made her promise
months
ago not to go anywhere without me.
It was too dangerous, and I definitely didn’t want anyone to touch her but me.

I pushed myself to my feet, blood rushing
to my head. My boot nudged something and sent it rolling, just like the first
item I’d encountered. I finally looked down, watching the medicine bottle roll
away.

Medicine. Had Candace found me medicine?

I took the few steps necessary and
scooped up the bottle, looking around for the first one; when Candace had given
me medicine for infection in the past, there had been two bottles. The other
bottle must have been the first thing that I’d caused to roll away.

There it was, in the crook of a tree
root. Another bottle of medicine.

I picked this one up, too, squinting at
the words I didn’t understand.

Why would Candace be gone now? Surely she
would have wanted to be here when I woke up, and I’d need her help in order to
take the medicine in the right doses at the right time.

I looked around again, and my eyes landed
on a scrap of paper where I had just woken. Tired already, I went to the tree
and sat against it, picking up the note and reading it.

There they were: my instructions. I had
no idea whether it had been four hours since my first dose, but I assumed it
had been long enough, if the medicine had worked to the point that I could wake
up. I popped the lids of the pills and took one of each, even though she hadn’t
specified to take both medicines – she hadn’t specified either one, and I
remembered well enough what the protocol had been last time.

My
driving force is you.

I knew what she meant, of course, and the
words touched me. But why would she write them in this note? Why now? Surely
she’d be back shortly; she probably planned on being gone for such a short time
that she didn’t think I’d wake before she was back. The note was just a precaution.

I sat back and waited.

Four hours passed. I took more pills and
stood, the grove definitively dark now. Anxiety had built in my chest as the
time had ticked by. Where was she?

I paced the camp, looking for signs of
anything that might have happened while I was asleep. I found her backpack
beside the tree, with my own empty next to it. I searched through her pack,
finding my own things mixed with hers.

She had transferred my stuff to her pack,
and then left her pack entirely? It didn’t make any sense.

But she would have to have gone
somewhere, even before her new absence, because she’d found the medicine. So,
she must have taken my stuff with her, gotten the medicine somehow, and then
come back. She’d left me the medicine, the note, and the backpack, and then
departed again.

All before I’d succumbed to the fever.
How had she done that?

And why wasn’t she here now?

Where had the medicine come from?

I mulled over these questions as a light
drizzle began over my head; I sat back down, exhausted again. Sleep nagged at
my eyelids but I fought it off – I couldn’t go to sleep again until I knew
Candace was safe.

As I struggled against my exhaustion, I
recognized the fact that my body wouldn’t listen to my mind at the moment,
because it had come so close to death that it needed the rest I was trying to
deny it. My eyelids became even heavier, and I only had one more coherent
thought: Candace wouldn’t have been gone this long by choice, and that meant
she might need my help.

~ * ~

My eyes popped open as awareness
returned, and I immediately took more medicine. I wasn’t sure if it had been
four hours, or if it had been longer, but I took them just to be safe. It was
still dark, but it hadn’t been my choice to sleep; I got to my feet.

Where would Candace have gone for
medicine? The only person we’d seen in months was the man who’d shot me for the
doe. There wasn’t anywhere for her to start. Except. . .

The commune. It had been the place we’d
gone for directions, and it had been our last contact with a large source of
people – a large enough source that it would definitely be the most likely
place in which to find the medicine I had needed.

But
he
had been there: the man I most hated out of everyone who had ever existed. She
wouldn’t go there; she would know to stay away from him.

Unless she thought I was dying, and that
going there was the only way to save my life.

I jumped to my feet, ignoring the woozy
feeling in my head and grabbing her backpack; I placed it around my shoulders,
then started sprinting out of the grove.

The sprinting didn’t last. My head
started spinning and I collapsed to my knees just outside the trees.

But Candace might need me. She might no
longer be at the commune, but I was certain she’d at least
been
there, and that was a start. I needed to find her. I could
not
rest. Who knew what sort of
situation she was in?

Sleep snagged me by the chest and pulled
me in.

~ * ~

When I came to again, the sun blazed over
my head. It was so hot for March; I could tell summer would come quickly in
southern California. What would it be like if I ever convinced Candace to come
to Mexico with me?

I had to find her.

I was on my feet again, moving forward
cautiously, not wanting to pass out like I had before. Several minutes later, I
remembered to take my medicine.

I felt better this time; my feet didn’t
feel as heavy, and my shoulder stung less. I moved faster.

Judging by the place the sun held in the
sky, though, I wouldn’t make it to the commune by nightfall – not at this pace.
And I couldn’t risk slowing myself down even further by moving faster. And no
one would be willing to help me once I
did
reach the commune if I arrived when everyone was asleep. I’d have to wait to
talk to anyone until morning.

A shiver traveled through me at the
thought of talking to anyone there, and I especially dreaded the chance of
seeing
him
again. But I had few
options; the severity of Candace’s absence weighed like a cloak on my back,
getting heavier with every passing moment.

Something was
definitely
wrong, and tomorrow morning might be too late to do
anything about it. I desperately wanted to find her, desperately wanted to
touch every part of her and make sure she was completely uninjured. But I
myself was injured, and I was only human.

I walked all day, focusing on the idea of
the commune – it was my only lead, and I didn’t even know whether going there
would help me find her, but what else could I do? I stopped just off the exit
that night and fell asleep in the gutter, horribly missing the feel of my arms
wrapped around her.

Morning came slower than I had hoped, but
it did come. I headed straight for the house, walking directly to the guards
without taking my gun out – I needed to get through them as quickly as
possible.

“You again?” one murmured, raising his
eyebrows; I barely recognized him from the last time I’d been here. The other
one was new. “You look like hell.”

“I’m looking for someone – the girl I was
with last time I was here. Have you seen her?”

The man exchanged a look with his mate,
then shook his head. “Can’t say that I have,” he said. His eyes flickered.

“You’re lying,” I said, my tone even. I
wanted to grab him by the throat and choke the truth out of him, but I knew I
didn’t have the strength to win against both of them right now.

He shrugged. “Can’t say that I’m not, but
I can’t answer your questions.”

“Can you at least let me in?”

He immediately stepped away from the
door. “Have at it.”

I walked over the threshold, the fear
that my eyes would land on
him
surging through my every thought. I couldn’t worry about that, though; she
had
been here, and I just needed to find
someone who would tell me what had happened while she’d been here.

I tapped a scrawny man on the shoulder,
and he turned to face me. “Has there been a girl here? About eighteen? Asking
for medicine?”

His eyes were wide as he quickly shook
his head. “N-no,” he replied.

“What about you?” I asked an older woman
who stood a few feet away, watching us. “Have you seen anyone by that
description?”

She quietly shook her head, not saying a
word; her eyes seemed sad.

I searched the entire house for anyone
who knew Candace, anyone who would tell me something about her; everyone said
they’d never seen her.

But someone had to have been lying. She
had definitely been here.

I didn’t come across
him
anywhere.

I stood in the entryway, staring up at
the ceiling, hoping that it would somehow speak and give me some answers.

“I’ve seen her,” a quiet, lilting voice
said from behind me.

I turned, my eyes landing on a young
woman, her belly just beginning to swell.

“Have you?” I said. “Why has no one
else?”

“There’s a man who lives here; he somehow
manages to procure things people need, and gives them to us at no cost. People
feel a debt toward him, I think.”

“What man?”

“Thin. Sunken eyes. Black hair.”

Him
.

“The girl you’re asking about came here
looking for medicine; no one would trade with her, because he had requested
that they refuse, even if they had the medicine she was seeking. Then, as she
was about to leave, he came forward and offered to trade with her.”

“What did he trade?” I asked, almost
wishing she wouldn’t answer.

“Her pain,” she murmured, “in exchange
for the medicine. Are you Gideon?”

I nodded, closing my eyes. Why her pain?
To hurt me? Or simply because he couldn’t bear to see me happy with someone
else?

“Do you know where they went?”

“He was going to take her to another
house after they’d left the medicine with you. He said they’d come back here,
but to another house, so I assume wherever they are now is close by.”

Close
. I clung to those words, that promise.

“How long ago was that?” I asked.

“Almost two days now.”

Two days. That entire time Candace had
been with him, and his goal was her pain. What state would she be in when I
found her?

I nodded once. “Thank you, “ I said
before turning around and heading for the door.

Then something occurred to me, and I
stopped. I pulled Candace’s backpack towards me and rummage in it till I found
what I was looking for.

“Here,” I said, handing the bottle to the
woman. “She has a special attachment to these, but I think she’ll be okay with
me giving them to you.” Candace was a different person now than who she had
been when she’d stolen the prenatal pills off a dead woman’s body. Back then,
she had been mad and vengeful. Now, she was loving. Forgiving. She had forgiven
me.

I suddenly felt sure that I hadn’t
imagined her saying those words.

The woman blinked at the pill bottle. “I
wasn’t going to keep it – the baby; it won’t matter if it gets the proper
nutrition.”

“Take them,” I insisted. “You might
reconsider that decision; the best blessing in the world is family.”

“In
this
world, though? Family is a curse, and it wasn’t my choice to risk pregnancy.”
She looked sad as she stared down at the bottle.

“In any world, I think. If you keep the
baby, he or she might become your greatest weakness. But I think you’ll find
your greatest strength in his or her eyes.”

She finally looked up at me, confusion
clouding her face. “Thank you,” she murmured.