The Renegades (The Superiors) (23 page)

She
hesitated, but seeing she had little choice, she held tightly to his hand while
he turned his face into the biting wind. It took her some time to go about her
business, and he wondered what she could be doing the whole time. He could feel
her moving around, but he kept his face pointed in the other direction, even
when the scent of her bare skin reached him and a wave of hunger swept over him.
With nothing covering her, nothing diluting and muffling her scent, it hit him
hard enough to rock him back against the tree trunk. He could barely contain
the sounds fighting to escape his throat, the moan of pleasure or the growl of
hunger.

After
a bit more movement, she relieved herself, and the ammonia scent overwhelmed her
other scents. Again she rustled about for what seemed a long while before
scooting back to him. He caught that same embarrassed look on her face that had
once surprised him so much, before he’d known humans expressed that emotion.

Now
he knew they had many emotions, like Superiors. Perhaps more, for they were needy
and weak and had many shades of fear and vulnerability that perhaps Superiors
had eliminated. Humans had endless fears, and endless needs, many of which he’d
not imagined before he’d had one so constantly near.

Despite
his frequent attempts to recall his own weaknesses as a human, Cali’s
shortcomings continually frustrated him. All the human inadequacies he’d spent
the past hundred years trying to forget manifested themselves in Cali—she stumbled
over everything, blisters sprang up on her feet faster than he could lick them
away, branches were forever finding new ways to puncture her skin and mark her
trail for followers, and each injury took a maddening amount of time to heal. The
incline of the terrain had caused several of her toenails to blacken and come
loose. Her muscles tired easily and remained sore for days, insects found their
way into her clothing and left welts that she could not resist scratching into
raw sores, and she became unbearably cold when the temperature had not yet
begun to near the freezing point. She grew weak without copious amounts of
food. Though she ate constantly, her body did not absorb half the food, but had
to produce waste, which she had to stop and eliminate often. In addition, her
body excreted sweat and oils that produced odors she objected to and insisted
on washing off every few days. When she couldn’t, she complained of them
instead.

Draven
had simple needs—sleep, food, avoiding sunlight. All that he ingested, his body
converted into energy. Superiors wasted nothing.

Except
emotion, he thought as he sat cradling Cali’s body against his. Certainly he
had begun to waste an inordinate amount of concern on her behalf.

After
ascertaining that the wolves had retreated some distance, Draven scouted the
area for confirmation. Confident that neither wolf nor Superior lurked nearby,
he fetched his humans, and they continued walking in an attempt to make up for
some of the time they’d spent treed by wolves.

By
midday, they had reached a point where the land no longer tilted downwards
ahead of them. The mountains did not diminish to smaller ones and then rolling
hills, but rather, ended abruptly. One moment they were descending the face of
a mountain, and the next, they had reached the foot of the mountain and an
endless stretch of flatlands lay open before them. A moment of inertia
unsettled Draven. After months of crossing terrain that rose and fell, the
level surface looked wrong somehow.

“We
should make camp,” Draven said.

“Okay,”
Cali said. “Can we build a fire? I think my toes are about to fall off. Or at
least my toenails.”

“Perhaps…”

“Where
are we, anyway?”

“We’re
close to a highway,” he said. For the past hour, he’d begun to hear traffic
noises, something he hadn’t heard in over a month. “Perhaps tonight we will
reach the city.”

“What
city?” Cali asked. “Can we get medicine for Leo?”

“Oh,
I don’t know,” Draven said. “I’ll look at the map later.” As always, the
exposure to daylight had put him in a foul mood. The added brightness the snow
had leant the sunlight nearly blinded him, and left his head throbbing with
agonizing intensity.

“What
about Leo?” Cali asked.

Draven
began erecting the tent without answering, not wishing to point out the
obvious, that medicine was not likely to save her baby at this point, if it
ever would have. A doctor needed to examine the sapling, and going to a doctor
would guarantee Draven’s arrest. The baby had likely passed the point where his
life could be saved by a doctor anyhow.

Draven
rolled out the two mummy bags inside the tent and climbed into his, too
relieved by the darkness it offered to notice his growing hunger. “What is it?”
he asked upon seeing Cali’s hesitation.

“I
have to…you know. Use the…go to the…”

“You
just went.”

She
hung back, her face expectant but patient. Draven didn’t care for her
patronizing expression, but he took Leo from her with a sigh. He waited for her
return, leaving the tent open for her. When she finished, she climbed in and
zipped the doorway. Complete and heavenly blackness filled the tent. Draven
sighed again, this time in contentment, and then stopped himself mid-breath. As
if he hadn’t endured enough this day, Cali’s bleeding had begun again. Now he
noticed his hunger, a need so fierce he did not know if he could resist now
that the pain in his head had abated and he had nothing to occupy his mind but ravenous
hunger. Though her scent always tantalized him when he’d gone so long without
eating, now it tortured and teased.

He
turned his back to her and zipped his bag over his head, grateful for the foil
layer inside that blocked her scent. He could hear her moving about, and then
the zipper of her bag closing. Seconds later, her breath deepened into that of
sleep.

If
only he could draw from the sapling. Though it would be unpleasant having to
draw from a doomed child, he hated to see sap go to waste, even the thin, bland
sap of such a young one. Soon the boy would die and its energy could no longer
be harvested. But Draven knew that if he drew from the boy and it died, Cali
would never forgive him. Although his concern with her forgiveness was
ludicrous, perhaps he could not have brought himself to draw from such a
pitiful, sickly human even if he’d had her blessing.

Finally,
he fell into sleep beside Cali. When they awoke, Leo did not.

Chapter 37

If
she hadn’t caught Draven watching her in the most pitying way, Cali couldn’t have stopped herself from crying. But she had caught him with that look on
his face, and more than once. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of
admitting he’d been right, too. Of course, deep down she’d known that he’d been
right all along, about everything, but she hadn’t let herself believe. Believe
that she should never have taken Leo, or that he’d die after he fell.

I
won’t cry,
she told herself.
I won’t cry in front of him.

“We
should bury him,” she said. “So the animals don’t get him.” She could be as
cold and remote as him, like she’d never loved Leo at all, or anything else in
her whole life. “And so that no one will find him and know we’ve been here.”
She could be rational, just like him. It wasn’t so difficult.

“We
can do that,” Draven said in this soft voice, giving her this soft look.

“Okay,”
she said, shrugging. “Or not. As you like.” She wanted to be hard and cold all
the way though, but even when she kept her voice steady and her chin raised, it
didn’t erase the painful knot in her throat or the stinging ache behind her
eyes. She sat cradling the body, somehow unable to let him go. She’d already
held his face over her water as she poured it from the bottle to release his
spirit, but he didn’t look very thankful, and she couldn’t blame him.

His
eyes had closed for the last time, but he didn’t look peaceful, the way some
mothers insisted their babies looked at death. He looked drawn and pinched,
like he had died with a frown on his face and a cry brewing on his tongue that
hadn’t had the chance to escape before death came to take that last crying
breath from his throat.

It
was her fault. All of it. If only she hadn’t done so many humanoid things. When
she’d agreed to run away with Draven, she had thought he’d take her to another apartment,
wouldn’t beat her, and wouldn’t make her into his own personal baby factory.
She hadn’t known they were coming to this, scrambling to survive in the woods,
half freezing all the while. Still, she couldn’t blame Draven for everything.
The moment she saw that he lived in a car, she should have known better than to
bring an innocent baby into her scheme. But she’d ignored all that and insisted
on having Leo with her. He’d barely seen a year of life, and now he’d never see
more.

“Do
you want me to do it?” Draven asked quietly.

Lost
in her own thoughts, she’d almost forgotten he was there. She pulled the baby
tighter to her chest and regarded Draven, trying to decide if she could trust
him. “Are you going to take him where I can’t see and do something awful, like
eat him?”

Draven
turned his dark, serious eyes to meet hers, the rest of him completely still.
“No.”

She
wanted to tell him no, to look away, but she couldn’t make herself do it. “Swear?”
she asked in a small voice. She remembered saying that with her sisters in the
Confinement when they’d been kids. Leo would never say that to anyone now.
“Honor of Thirds?” she asked, using Draven’s phrase so maybe he’d keep his
promise.

“Yes.”
Draven held out his arms.

Cali
hesitated, but then she leaned forward and placed the bundle gently in his
arms. Something in her wanted to stop him, but she couldn’t hold back her tears
much longer, and she was afraid if she started talking, her voice would get all
choked and he’d know.

She
bent to kiss the baby’s cold, chapped cheek. “Goodbye, Leo.”

She
turned away quickly and took a deep breath to steady herself. When she heard
Draven’s footsteps crunching through the snow, she turned back to watch him,
blinking hard to dry the icy tears gathering on her eyelashes. As Draven
carried the body away, she jumped up, overcome by the urge to run after him and
grab at his clothes in desperation, to ask if he was sure the baby was dead, if
he could do something to help Leo even now. After a few steps, she stopped
herself and crumpled to the frozen scabby ground at her feet. She knew the
answer already.

Still,
to hold him one more time, kiss him just once more...

She
shook her head hard. No. She would not act that way in front of a Superior,
would not lose her sense and beg for something even a Superior couldn’t do,
undo the done. No matter what she did now, it would not change what she had
done or what she had failed to do while Leo lived. She had sent Draven back for
him. She had dropped him from the tree. She had done that. Not Draven. She’d
dropped him, but held on to the knife. Because her life meant more. She could
not deny that. She might not have killed either of the trackers, but she’d
killed someone that night.

When
Draven had disappeared from view, she dropped her forehead to her knees and let
herself cry. After a few minutes, she gathered her senses and forced herself to
stand and walk back to their meager pile of possessions before sinking to sit
on one of the backpacks. She’d worn out her sobs, but tears continued to leak
from her eyes so that she had to wipe at them every few minutes, and just when
she thought they’d stopped, she’d think of Leo and a fresh stream would start.

Draven
took longer than she expected, so long that she started to worry that he might
not come back. She wouldn’t blame him. He’d said Leo didn’t contribute, but she
didn’t either. Maybe he’d want to put her out of her misery next.

She
didn’t know he’d come back until he touched her shoulder. She jumped and spun
towards him, wiping her face quickly so he wouldn’t see her tears. Though she’d
listened for him, his footsteps were nearly silent, even in the snow.

He
knelt before her. “Can you go on today?” he asked. He looked so concerned. Like
he really meant it.

“No,”
she said, turning away. “I can’t. Why don’t you just go on and leave me here to
die. It’s not like you need me.”

“I
do,” he said, brushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to the tears on her
cheek.

She
pulled away. “You’d be better off if I’d died, too.”

“No.
Now come and I will carry you. Tonight we will reach the city, and I will find
more supplies for us, and food for you. Perhaps we can stay a bit if no one is
looking for us here.”

“You
mean we’ll have an apartment?” Cali asked, forgetting for a moment the
awfulness of the morning.

Draven
pressed his lips together and shook his head. He picked up a backpack and held
it to Cali’s back and waited for her to slide her arms through the straps. Though
it weighed less than the other, it almost dragged her backwards to the ground when
Draven released it onto her shoulders. He steadied her before coming around to
crouch in front of her, his back to her.

“Climb
on my back. I’ll carry you. We can travel much more quickly now.”

Cali
bit her tongue, forcing the tears to retreat and focusing instead on her anger.
She’d never met someone so callous. All he cared about was that they could go
faster without Leo. He’d never wanted the baby at all. He’d probably wished for
his death the whole time. “You mean now I can’t even walk by myself?” Cali asked,
her chin rising. She stood to show him she could, although the weight of the
bag forced her to stoop. “I can carry a bag,” she said. “I know I’m not all superior
like you, but I have two legs.”

Instead
of getting mad or exasperated, Draven looked at her with his dark eyes so tender
and melty it only fed her indignation. “I can,” she insisted, although already
she had begun to doubt it. “I’m not as weak and helpless as you wish I was.”

“Cali,”
he said, trying to touch her face again. She ducked out of his reach, almost
losing her balance in the process and just barely righting herself before the
backpack’s momentum carried her to the scrubby frozen grass underfoot.

“I
don’t wish that,” he said. “I know you’re strong. And not a bit helpless.”

“No
you don’t,” she said. “You think I can’t even walk, and now that Leo’s gone,
you’ll carry me instead. Well, I’ve been strong enough to carry my own weight
my whole life, and I’m not going to stop now.”

“There
are different types of strength,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on her
defiant face. “I’m well aware of your capabilities. However, if we are to reach
the city today, we need speed more than strength. Yes?”

She
hesitated, knowing he was right and feeling foolish all of a sudden. “Fine,”
she said, and climbed onto Draven’s back. But she wasn’t happy about it. Draven
hefted the other pack onto the front of his body and took off, moving faster
than she would have walked without any burden at all. She knew she would have
slowed them to a ridiculous pace if she’d walked carrying the backpack, and the
fact that he was right again, like always, only made her more sullen. She rode
in silence, her mind unusually crowded with dark, bitter thoughts.

Soon
her shoulders began to ache, and a knot formed in each one, tightening more and
more until the pain became unbearable. But after her little outburst about
Draven doubting her strength, how could she complain? After all, he had to walk
and carry all the weight, while she only had to hold on. Soon the muscles in
her arms began to shake with fatigue and her hands grew numb. She bit the
inside of her cheek and remained silent, doing her best to support her weight
on Draven’s back and trying not to cry out when he boosted her up every few
minutes and put pressure on her inner thighs where the shifting of his hips had
rubbed her skin raw throughout the night. Despite her misery, she had to admit
they did move a lot faster than when she walked, too.

Neither
she nor Draven spoke all night, even when they stopped to rest. Though Cali had
grown used to his silences, she missed the way they used to talk, before they
ran away. Once, she’d imagined he cared about her opinions and their
conversations. Now they couldn’t care about anything except staying alive and
warm. Still, she wondered if his latest silence meant he was mad at her for her
outburst. Or maybe he was disappointed at how the whole thing had turned out,
too.

At
least he’d known ahead of time that they’d have no apartment.

But
she couldn’t blame him for everything. She had insisted on bringing a baby,
which had made things harder on both of them. And she hadn’t done as promised and
obeyed all his commands. She argued with him all the time, like he was a human
and not her master. He never put her in her place, so she kept doing it,
because sometimes, she got what she wanted, and even when she didn’t, he never
punished her for it, as her old master would have.

Not
only did she make things difficult for him, but she knew he’d only stolen her
so he could feed off her, and he didn’t seem to like her blood anymore.
Sometimes he went for days without drinking it. He was probably disappointed
that he’d tired of her already, that she didn’t taste as good as he’d expected.
His disinterest should have made her happy, but instead, she kept worrying she’d
done something wrong. She was nothing but a disobedient, disappointing, boring
burden. No wonder he hardly talked to her anymore.

They
stopped for the day early, before the sky blanched. Draven wanted to camp
outside the city so they wouldn’t have to find a place to sleep with other
Superiors around. He told her they’d find a place to stay the next night. Then
he went looking for wood. Cali lay shivering in the tent Draven had set up. She
wanted to drop into sleep before she even got inside, but once there, she kept
wondering where Draven had gone and why he hadn’t come back yet. After lying in
the tent a while, she got up and went outside, but she didn’t see him yet. His
footsteps had gouged holes in the snow, but his trail disappeared into the
eerie whiteness of the blanketed flatlands. Cali didn’t think she’d ever get
used to the strange glow of snow at night, the clinging ache of it on her feet,
the way it muffled the land and all its features, transforming them into a
spooky silent mass of colorless alien landscape. Just looking at it too long
made her shiver, as if something hidden lurked beneath the concealment of snow,
waiting to pounce the moment she turned her back.

Forcing
her mind to more calming thoughts, she focused her attention on the glow illuminating
the eastern horizon and the glittering lights in the distance. She wondered what
kind of life they’d have in the city. Maybe Draven would get an apartment after
all. Things would be like before, except without Shelly.

She
realized she hadn’t thought about Shelly for a while. While she’d been busy
worrying about freezing to death, or starving, or getting captured, or being drained
and left to rot by her lawless new master, her old master had probably been
trying to torture information out of Shelly. She hoped Shelly had survived.
He’d always talked to her, and he never acted mad for no reason and barely said
two words to her for days at a time. And he’d taken good care of Leo and loved
him plenty. She wished she could tell him what had happened to their baby. But
it was probably better that she couldn’t. He’d be even madder at her than
Draven.

Cali
turned from the horizon in time to see Draven stepping carefully in his
footprints as he returned. Instead of going into the tent as planned, Cali
stood outside waiting for him. He didn’t speak until he had reached the tent. “There’s
no wood,” he said as he passed Cali. He sat in the open doorway of the tent and
began removing his boots. After beating them together to knock all the snow
from them, he set them inside the tent, but he didn’t crawl inside as Cali
expected. He sat in the doorway, pulling his feet in close, and hooked his
hands together around his knees, leaned back and gazed at the sky. Cali waited
for him to make some observation, but he didn’t, so she turned her face up and looked,
too.