Infraction (3 page)

These people were also planning on a disaster. But
can I open the cans? There has to be a can opener around here
somewhere. And will there be a way to grind the wheat?

The door swings open behind me and Jack steps
through. His eyes scan the room, but he doesn't understand what it
means like I do. I grab his hand.

This keeps forever. Probably still good.

His eyes light up. “How do you know?”

Trust me. We need a can opener and grain mill.

We dig through boxes of first-aid supplies, silver
pouches of water—these might taste fresher than the water in
bottles—and rolls of paper.

“
For receipts, probably,” Jack says.
“You know, I've never seen a receipt in my life. I only know what
my grandma told me.”

I find a can opener on a desk covered with stacks of
paperwork. I get to work prying open a can of beans followed by a
can of wheat.

Jack finds a metal contraption with a small chute at
the top, a crank, and an opening at the bottom. I'm so excited that
I hug him. His eyes shine brightly at me, and I pull away but
return the smile.

“
I take it that's what we're looking
for?”

I nod.

He figures out how to clamp it to the desk. I find a
paper cup in an old drink dispenser, and we take turns pouring
grain in and turning the crank until the cup is full of coarse
flour. Jack puts a hand on the back of his neck.

“
I watched Red make rolls in the
settlement, but I really couldn't tell you where to start. I liked
to think I was better company, and they never offered to let me do
it.”

I laugh.
I've made bread.
Not well.

Jack squeezes my shoulders. “Well, that's probably
better than I could do. How are we going to bake it?”

I look around the store. There are a
couple microwaves.
Do you think the gas station is still
on the grid?

Jack shakes his head. “It might be. But we have no
idea how carefully it's monitored. We could have agents on us in a
heartbeat if it is.”

We look at each other in silence for several
moments. My stomach complains loudly.

“
Here's what we're going to do.
We'll gather up a few things. A can of rice, a can of beans, some
of those medical supplies, some water. There was a display of packs
up near the front of the store. We'll be ready to go. If we hear
anything suspicious, we run.”

You're sure?

He nods. “I know, it's dangerous.” His mouth turns
in a lopsided smile. “But the sound of fresh bread is too
tempting.”

Don't get your hopes up.

“
But it'll still be
warm.”

I get another bottle of water and mix it into the
flour and add a little sugar. I don't have any leavening, so this
bread really will be a brick, but like Jack said, at least it will
be warm. I put a lump of the dough into a small paper tray and open
the microwave door. The light inside flicks on.

It's still on the grid.

Jack's hands clench closed. “We'll have to be very
careful from here on out. It looks pretty deserted now, but it
could have been a stop for government trucks.”

We both know the risk of using electricity that may
be monitored by the government. But hunger trumps our concern. The
microwave sputters to life, and as the dough circles around the
inside, Jack finds a small container of honey that is so
crystallized he uses my knife to cut through the plastic and peels
it away from the honey like a banana peel.

When the timer finally dings, I pull out the
steaming mass of bread, and Jack holds the honey to it. The heat
melts some of the honey, and when the bread is cool enough for me
to pull a chunk away, I taste it. The bread may be dense, but with
the honey it's almost palatable. I offer the tray to Jack. We
devour the small loaf of bread before I have time to make another
one and put it in the microwave.

After about half an hour, I feel like I have a rock
at the bottom of my stomach and from the look on Jack's face, so
does he. We slump to the floor in sight of the front entrance. I'm
having a hard time keeping my eyes open, but Jack and I are both
nervous that we've signaled the entire regime to our presence. The
voice in the back of my head tells me we should grab our new packs
and put some distance between us and the gas station, but after
running this morning and then eating way too much heavy bread, all
my body wants to do is lie here.

I put my head on my pack, Jack sits next to me with
his hands crossed over his knees. The sun throws long shadows
across his face, and the golden light of early evening shimmers
through his hair. I blink and watch the dust swirl through the air.
I'm so tired.

“
Sleep for a while, Terra. I'll
watch.”

I shake my head. My mind shouldn't be this sluggish,
and I want to stay awake with him. I need to talk to him.

He laughs. “Really, Terra. It's fine. I'll watch.
I'll wake you in a couple hours, and then it'll be your turn.” He
turns a package of candy over and over in his hands, and the
plastic crinkles as he turns it. He's keeping himself occupied, and
I can't help feeling that I'm the reason he needs a
distraction.

I need to talk to you.

He holds my palm and traces the
words.
Not now. Just sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.

It's important.

He smiles and his eyes crinkle as his cheeks turn
up. He found a razor on one of the shelves here, and all his scruff
is gone. His skin is paler where the sun hasn't been able to touch
it. “Tomorrow will come, Terra. Sleep.”

But I worry tomorrow won't come and things will be
left unsaid. The need to tell him about the colony is almost
overwhelming, but there's something on his mind, something he needs
to puzzle through, and the distracted look in his eyes tells me he
can't talk now.

I let my eyes slip closed knowing I'll be safe with
him right there beside me.

But I don't sleep long.

I wake to moonlight on my skin and Jack's face
inches from my own. He's shaking me awake, and before I can figure
out what he's saying, I feel the rumble under me. All traces of
drowsiness are gone in an instant, and I jump to my feet.

Trucks are coming. This gas station was being
monitored by the government, and now they're on their way to
investigate the unauthorized use of electricity. Inside I'm
screaming at myself because I knew this would happen. We both knew
it would happen, but we ignored it just for the sake of eating
something half-way decent and enjoying a bit of shelter out of the
woods.

The headlights slice through the dark. We sling on
our packs and bolt through the supply room and out the back door.
There's a fat, heavy moon tonight, and it bathes everything in
light. Trees jump up to greet us only ten feet from the exit, and
we're sprinting toward their welcome darkness before we even stop
to ask which direction we're going. We stick to the deepest
shadows, crashing between the trees, not caring about the noise we
make. The screech of air brakes tells me that the trucks have
parked, and I know we're still much too close. Light still filters
through the trees behind me, and I'd feel much better completely
surrounded by darkness.

Funny how I wanted nothing more than to get away
from the darkness in the colony, how I felt like it was an
oppressive force about to crush me. Now I'd give anything for that
kind of black. I race beside Jack, and his breathing tells me he's
starting to panic. Normally we can both run a fair distance without
even being winded. I glance over, and his eyes are wide, his fists
clenched so tightly the moonlight makes his knuckles look
bone-white.

The bread sits too heavily in my stomach, and a
cramp cuts its way through my side. I put a hand to it, willing it
away. We can't slow down now.

Through gasps, Jack says, “They'll have night-vision
goggles.”

I nod. We have to keep running.

“
We're too loud.”

But where can we hide? Then I stumble over a fallen
tree lurking in the shadows. I scramble in the wet leaves and try
to right myself when I notice the dark space under the tree.
There's a hollow barely big enough for both of us, and Jack sees it
too. I look at him, his eyes shining in the moonlight fingering
through the trees. He nods.

We burrow down in the hollow and scrape the bracken
around us. I pile the leaves down against our legs and shiver as
the dampness seeps into my pants. I'm pressed up against Jack, and
his arm wraps around me protectively, before he can even stop to
question—like he has on so many other nights—if I'd even want him
to. There's no time for thinking, and when there's no time to
overthink this, I realize I never want him to move his arm. But I
can't follow that train of thought through to its conclusion
because I hear footsteps coming toward us.

I reach my hand up to Jack's arm and squeeze it so
tightly I'm sure he'll gasp, but he's silent and still as a tomb.
I'm trembling, and even Jack's arms around me can't stop it. Nomads
were one thing. They might kill us, but it would be quick. But
agents? They would torture us to find out where we've been, how
many other illegals we've come across, and what unauthorized
settlements we've seen. They would probably kill us eventually, and
there would be nothing quick about it. I look down and see the
small thread of a tracker scar on Jack's arm next to the
unblemished flesh on my own. Very few people have never had a
tracker. What would the agents think of me, and what would they do
about it?

I close my eyes and listen to the heavy tread of
combat boots stirring up the leaves. I try to pick out the steps to
count how many there are. I tap Jack's arm three times. He taps me
back three times in agreement. Three soldiers armed with
night-vision goggles and guns. Our only hope is that we've hidden
ourselves well enough and that we have the patience to wait
longer.

The boots get louder, and I swear they're close
enough to kick me. The leaves shuffle by my head, and Jack grips me
harder. Then a static click breaks the stillness.

“
Anything?” comes a clipped
voice.

“
No, sir. Nothing. Maybe they didn't
come this way.” They're talking with an agent through some kind of
communicator.

“
But the back door is open.” The
voice trembles with impatience.

“
Yes, sir.”

“
Which means, soldier, that there's
nowhere else they could have gone. They wouldn't have followed the
road, so the only other option is the woods. Spread out and keep
looking.”

“
Yes, sir.”

The static click sounds again, and then silence
descends on us. All I hear is Jack's breath in my ear and the
fainter breath of the soldiers. My legs and side are wet from lying
on the ground, and the cold makes my muscles cramp. Jack tenses
next to me, and I know he's feeling it too—the inane desire to
burst from cover and run until we can't run anymore. When faced
with fight or flight, we'd both choose flight. We're alike. We've
always been alike.

The soldiers hover over us for a few torturous
minutes longer, and just as I'm bracing myself to jump up and run,
ready to feel the bullets whiz by my head, they leave. The
footsteps fade into the distance, and I finally let myself breathe
deeply. Jack's arm relaxes around me, and I let my iron grip loosen
on his arm.

“
That hurt, you know.” He tries to
say it with a hint of laughter, but his tone is all
wrong.

I grab his hand.
Is it
safe?

“
Is it ever safe?”

We wait at least ten minutes longer. We haven't
heard anything, not even crickets, and the quiet is too much. I
finally stretch my legs and groan as the cramps pinch every nerve I
have. I'm shivering uncontrollably, and Jack chafes my arms with
his hands.

“
You okay?”

I nod.
You?

He shakes his head. “I know you're trying to be
strong for me, Terra. But I'd rather you be honest. I deserve that
much. I'm terrified, and sometimes I think there's something wrong
with me when you're okay all the time.”

I turn to him. I had no idea. How little we've
talked about how we feel. I know it's my fault; I'm the one who's
pushed him away. The darkness and the stillness and the fear still
linger, and I can't do anything about it now. We have to get away
as quickly as possible.

We slide out of the hollow, and we've taken no more
than ten steps when I hear the boots again, and they're coming
fast.

There's no time for me to even look at Jack. We run.
We run faster than we did from the nomads, faster than we did only
a short time ago from the gas station. I bless and curse the
moonlight—a blessing as it lets me run through the trees without
fear of careening into one of them, a curse because the soldiers
won't even need their night-vision goggles to see us.

The boots thunder behind me, and a deep, booming
voice calls out.

“
Stop now and you won't be
harmed.”

It's a lie. I don't even have to look at Jack to
know he's not tempted. But I am curious why they aren't shooting at
us, why they haven't used more force to capture us.

Another soldier appears to our left, rifle ready to
fire, and he looks huge in the dark. We veer away until I'm sure
we're running parallel to the road. Branches whip across my wet,
cold legs and each slap burns worse than the one before. I will my
legs to keep churning, and the adrenaline racing through me is in
my favor. I'm sure I've never run this fast in my life, but I don't
know how long my body will allow me to keep it up. Already Jack
stumbles next to me. This can't go on forever.