The Renegades (The Superiors) (14 page)

Chapter 26

For three days, they
traveled with no sign of rain or Superior life. Draven obsessed about the garlic,
making certain he stopped every hour or so to reapply. In addition, he had Cali ingest it, as Sally had instructed in her letter. The garlic masked Cali’s natural
scent, covered it the same way it smothered her flavor. He did not secure her
or her child while he slept, though he knew that, using the garlic, she could
slip away without leaving a scent trail. But if she ran, he imagined she’d kill
him first, now that she knew how. And he could not bring himself to tie her
like a common animal.

They
kept no regular schedule to determine when they would travel or rest. Sometimes
they walked during the day, and sometimes at night, and sometimes a portion of each.
When they walked at night, Draven carried Cali and Leo. During the day, he
carried Leo and the pack while Cali walked. She complained little, far less
than her baby. Despite Cali’s silence, Draven knew she tired quickly. Each day
she walked more slowly than the last, and on the third day after leaving the
cave, she began to limp.

Early
that evening, they stopped in an area of dense evergreen growth. Since
reversing his sleep schedule, Draven had acquired a constant foul mood. During
the day, weakness and exhaustion wore on his nerves. His head pounded no matter
how he protected himself from the sun, and the backs of his hands burned and
blistered one day when he failed to cover them. In addition, cold gnawed at him
constantly.

Knowing
Cali fared worse did nothing to improve his mood. Instead, it reminded him of
his failure to deliver what he’d promised. What had he been thinking, taking
two weak sapiens into the wilderness and imagining they could survive? Perhaps
they’d have thrived if he’d waited until late spring to leave Princeton, but
late fall was the worst possible time. Each day dawned colder than the last.
Leo began coughing and fussing much of each night. Though Draven felt sorry for
the sapling, he could do little to alleviate the cold. Why had he listened to
Cali? Including a child was madness.

Leo
would likely die, but Draven dared not suggest the logical solution to Cali. Since
the baby would die, and Cali needed to reserve her strength even more so than
Draven, he should draw from the baby. It made the most practical sense. Though
he found the prospect of drawing from a helpless sapling distasteful, it was
preferable to weakening Cali. Unlike the baby, she had some chance of survival.

Draven
gathered firewood when they camped, looking always for signs of trackers in the
woods as well as fuel. Each evening, encouraged at not having seen any sign of pursuit,
and having no other means by which to warm his charges, he built a fire,
despite the increased risk of drawing attention.

This
evening, like the others, he returned to his humans without indication of pursuit,
carrying a load of deadfall. Cali fed the baby while Draven lit a fire and settled
their things around it. They needed supplies—food for Cali, a tent, bedding. When
he’d acquired a sapien, he hadn’t fully realized the responsibility it would
entail. It had been a status symbol. But he should have an apartment with
separate quarters for Cali, a bedroom, a bathroom with a toilet, the small but
necessary comforts of a sapien life. Yes, he would’ve had to work harder than
ever just to ensure her survival, but not like this. Out here, it seemed an
impossible task.

Draven
watched Cali devour a packet of freeze-dried food. Soon she would have finished
all he’d stolen. He had miscalculated the amount of energy sapiens required. Despite
his having abstained from drawing from Cali for two days and nights, she
appeared wan and listless. She sat with her knees drawn up, clutching his
jacket around her and staring into the fire while she ate.

Somehow,
Draven had imagined he could provide her with a better life than Byron had.
Instead, he would likely lead her and her baby to their deaths. He’d taken on
this burden, and now it weighed on him, heavier and heavier with each passing
night. Though he’d procured a precious possession, he was worse off than when
he’d been alone. Watching Cali’s weary face, he cursed himself. Byron was
right. He was a souldamned fool.

Though
he tried to ignore his hunger, his teeth throbbed continuously, his mind was
cloudy and slow, and he tired rapidly. Pushing these concerns aside, he drank from
the water he’d gathered from a stream that morning.

“Don’t
you need to eat?” Cali asked. He looked up. He hadn’t noticed her watching him.

“Not
often.”

“Then
why do you?”

“Why
do you eat so often?”

“I
don’t know. So I won’t starve, I guess.”

“I
starve more slowly than you.”

“Are
you hungry?”

He
paused. “Yes.”

“Then
eat. You carry everything.”

“Perhaps
I should…draw from the baby. He doesn’t need strength as you do.”

Cali
slid her arms protectively around Leo, who coughed and flailed his legs. “You
can’t draw from him. He’s a tiny baby. What’s wrong with you?”

“It
makes sense, Cali.”

“I
don’t care. If you’re hungry, you can feed from me. I’d rather you bite me ten
times than bite him even once. You keep away from him, you hear?”

“I’m
not so hungry,” he said. “I simply thought it practical.” He stood and gingerly
began to remove his shirt. Bits of blood stuck to his shirt and glued it to his
skin. He clenched his teeth and tore it free, letting cold air wash over the
painful sores. He examined his shirt, now speckled with dried blood, a few
spots as large as the pad of his thumb. The condition of his back had deteriorated
rapidly. Each day, carrying the load pushed the splinters deeper and aggravated
the surrounding skin.

He
stuffed the shirt into the backpack. Soon he’d have to find a place to wash his
clothing. Dirt caked his socks and pants, and blood stained his shirts. Cali’s clothing
was in still worse condition. And if he longed to collapse with exhaustion,
this girl, a mere human, must feel far worse.

Draven
removed the blanket from the pack and draped it around her and her child. When
he straightened, she reached out and grasped his arm.

“What
is it?” he asked, pulling away. His teeth ached far into the roots whenever she
drew near.

“Tell
me what’s wrong with your back.”

“Nothing.”

“You’re
bleeding. I saw your shirt. Why won’t you tell me?”

He
looked at her for a moment, then sighed and settled himself next to the fire. “I
have a few splinters.”

“Splinters?
What is that?”

“Small
slivers of wood.” He picked up a piece of firewood, broke it in half and showed
her the jagged break. He did not like having to explain things that mattered
little to her.

And
yet, this could mean everything to her. Perhaps in his weakness, he’d make some
careless mistake, and she’d need to defend herself. Any knowledge he could
impart, no matter how inconsequential, might prove her only chance, albeit a miniscule
one. He must give her every advantage in his power.

His
resolve to keep her in her place softened as he watched her examining the wood
with great interest. “Do you remember when I asked you to trust me?”

Cali
hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. So?”

“Do
you?”

She
hesitated longer, and her eyes flitted to the fire.

He
smiled. “Use a qualifier if you wish.”

“I
don’t know what that is. But I guess I trust you. I believe you, that you’ll
try to keep us alive. We’d be dead by now if you didn’t know so much.”

“Very
well. Now it is time for you to know some things.”

“Really?”
she asked, shifting to look at him. “I’m awfully grateful.”

“Indeed.”

“Okay,
well, what do I need to know? Can you teach me everything you know?”

“One
thing at a time, yes?” He reached for the pack, dragged it over and removed the
dagger. “It seems I don’t have a choice but to trust you. Had you ever seen or
touched wood before you came with me?”

“No,”
she said, smiling. “Well, not before Princeton. I didn’t even know what a tree
was. Shelly made fun of me.”

“Superiors
would rather you not know,” Draven said. “We’ve populated areas where wood is
scarce, because it’s one of the only means to kill us.” Draven handed her the
dagger. She took it without hesitation and ran her fingers along its crude
length. Though not sharp, when used with adequate aim and force it would prove
most effective. He had given Cali a weapon and told her it would kill him. Yet
he knew how difficult finding a Superior’s heart could be to an untrained hand.
If she wished to end his life, he could only hope she’d succeed in her first
attempt and not leave him to suffer.

“You’ll
have to strike quickly, and with all your strength, so as to pierce the
clothing. Here,” he said, pointing to his bare chest. “Or in the mouth. If you
put it through the mouth, aim upwards. Not into the throat. Upwards enters into
the brain. That is the lethal blow.”

Draven
took her wrist and pulled it towards him, turning it so the dagger’s tip lay directly
over his heart. With one thrust, she could drive it home. She could end his
life in a moment. With a sense of dismayed horror, he noted that her heart had
begun to beat quite rapidly.

She
wished to kill him.

“If
you intend to kill me, do it now,” he whispered, his eyes on hers. “I’ll not
stop you.”

He
closed his hand around hers and pushed the dagger harder against his chest,
until the dull end pressed into his skin and began to ache. It did not break
the skin—it was not sharp enough. For a moment, Draven expected her to finish
it. The mixed blessing of his long life would end.

But
she wrested her hand from his and shook it out. “I can’t kill you. I’d die in a
day.”

“Doubtless.”

Did
sapiens always feel the way he’d felt just now? Vulnerable and uncertain, as if
at any moment they could be killed? They had only the trust that their masters
valued them enough not to do it, because Superiors needed them, the same way
that Cali needed him now. Spared not out of respect or kindness or fondness,
but out of necessity and the instinct to survive.

“You
told me once that you couldn’t be killed,” Cali said.

He
smiled, but tonight he could find no humor. “Rather, I said we didn’t die. We do
not age or die as other living things. But everything will end eventually. It’s
simply a matter of time. Our blessing and our curse is that it’s quite
difficult for us to die. At times…that has been more curse than blessing. We must
be
killed. We must die violently. Your species—all other species—can die
peacefully.”

“Are
you scared to die?” Cali asked.

Draven
paused, surprised she’d ponder such a thing. “At times,” he answered. “At times
I have wished for it.”

“Did
you want me to…maybe, kill you just now?”

“If
that is your plan, I’d rather allow it than have it done while I slept. It’s
the closest to a peaceful death I could hope for.”

“That’s
sad,” Cali said. She reached out and touched his arm, but when he didn’t respond,
she withdrew her fingers.

“If
the trackers kill me, you should try to kill them,” he said. “Perhaps, with the
element of surprise, you could escape. If you put the dagger into one of them
but do not deal a fatal blow, he’ll be stunned with pain. We feel things in a
more pronounced way than humans, so a great deal of pain can put us into a sort
of shock. Never let go of the dagger. That is of vital importance. Remove it
and try again until you hit the heart. You can use a broken branch, anything
sharp enough to puncture a body. Use all your force. Muscle is tougher than you
imagine.”

“Okay.”
Cali turned to lay her sleeping child on the blanket, where he coughed and
fussed a few moments before he stilled again.

Draven
handed Cali the dagger. “Have this. Keep it within reach while you sleep. Carry
it during the day. Have it always at hand.”

“You’re
scared, aren’t you?”

“I’ll
make one for myself later. This is yours.” He smiled a bit. “It is made from an
aspen tree. Aspen for Aspen.”

“Wow.
That’s…” She didn’t finish her thought, so he went on before she could say something
he did not wish to hear.

“I’ve
put my death in your hands. You know this, yes?”

She
looked up with her big, caramel eyes. “Why?”

“I
have to trust that you’re with me,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m simply the fool
who stole a sapien so she could kill him.”

“I
don’t think I could kill anyone.”

Draven
turned away. “I hope you’re wrong,” he said.

He
lay beside Leo, towards the trees, and Cali lay on Leo’s other side, towards
the fire. She pulled the blanket around her and met Draven’s eyes across the sleeping
child. “Don’t you bite him,” she said.

“Take
some sleep. We should leave soon.”

Cali
snuggled closer to Leo, and a few moments later, her warm little hand found
Draven’s hip and rested there. Her eyes closed.

Draven
wanted to move away, fling her delicate, scarred hand from him. Her warmth no
longer repelled him. It now had the opposite effect. But he found something in
her touch, in her limp, indifferent hand on his bare skin, maddening. He
reached out and touched her eyelids, her cheek, her lips.

Her
eyes fluttered halfway open. “You didn’t tell me about the splinters,” she murmured.

“I
did.”

“No,
you didn’t.”

“Wood…causes
lasting injury. So if we receive a splinter, we do not heal as our bodies do
from other injuries. If you got a splinter, over time your body would expel it.
Ours do not know how to respond to wood, so it stays.”