Strikers (14 page)

As the sun dips low and there are no more sounds of humans, vehicles or horses to break the hours, I begin to have hope. Then I shake that off, thinking that the quickest way to lose any good luck is to believe that I have it.

The dimming of the daylight feels like a blessing against my face, which I can tell is burned even through the burlap. I wonder if I’ll have little dots of burn or if I’ve moved enough so that it will be red all over.

When Jordan stirs, I hold my breath, hoping he’ll be happy enough with what he sees that we can all sit up. After a long moment, he clears his throat and croaks, “Okay. Sit up but stay low. We’re clear for the moment.”

I can’t suppress the pained sound that comes out of me when I try unsuccessfully to sit up. My back won’t bend and feels as stiff as a board. When I lever myself up using my arm as a brace, the burlap falls away from my face and the feeling of taking an unhindered breath is so delicious I groan again, this time in pleasure.

Next to me, Jovan is frowning, his eyes on his knees, which are folded up towards his chest. Cassi seems to be having trouble getting up, her little cries of pain rising toward whimpers as she rolls onto her side. I reach for her arm and give it a tug. We’re almost face to face and close enough so that I can wrap my arms around her to some extent. The dust on her face is streaked with a fan of clear lines where tears have run down the sides of her face and her lips are puffy and cracked, a dark line of dried blood along the center of her lower lip where she worried at it during the day.

I let her cry and just hold her, murmuring whatever soothing thing I can think of into her ear while she does. My eyes meet Jordan’s and the look on his face is both sorrowful and certain. I know he’s thinking about what he told me. He was right. The two soldiers are dead and now there’s no one to counter any claim that we’re the killers and Jovan our hostage.

It also means that they will have to kill
us
to ensure the secret remains a secret.

There’s just one more moment of panic before night settles in when we see a cluster of vehicles pass by going south, back toward Wicha from Benton. They don’t pause, or even slow down, and we hunker down low in our stream-bed for the short time it takes for them to pass out of sight.

Jordan and Jovan huddle together, heads close as they talk. I can see the moment Jovan finds out what has really happened in the stiffening of his bent back. When he turns around to look at me, my heart breaks to see the defeat in his eyes. I know he believes what Jordan has told him about the soldiers and why it happened. It must be a terrible thing for him to know.

The water is finished before we head out and we can’t spare any time for a fire to cook food. It’s with a gnawing hunger in my belly that I set out with the others, heading north toward Benton and the border beyond.

We’re hurrying and the night is filled with stumbles and the sounds of pain when the stumble produces yet another bump or bruise. Even so, we’re making good time and the scattered lights of the Benton outpost draw near long before I had imagined they would.

Jordan leads us west of the outpost and the rough remains of the highway, urging us to be quiet when the first occupied dwellings are close enough to make out clearly. One light stands out among the indistinct blurs coming from behind drawn curtains and shades. It’s bright and pointed into the sky against the backdrop of a building.

I can see the indecision in Jordan’s face. He wants to see what it is but also fears it might be a trap. I know I feel that way. Finally, he turns to us and says, “Rest here and take a quick five minutes. I’m going to go see what that is.”

Jovan squats but then springs back up and says, “I want to see, too.”

We’re all thinking the same thing. It’s a message and it’s meant for us. We all heard the riders talking about putting a message on one of the barns, but we didn’t back track to see it. This might be another one. This one is almost on our path and it might be the last one. It’s worth seeing, so long as it doesn’t get us caught.

I’ve had no chance to talk to Jovan much during our walk, or even to thank him for his attempt to comfort me during the endless day. Whenever I look at him I feel the warmth of his fingers twining with mine and my mouth seems to lose the ability to speak. I’ve been able to see the difficult thoughts he’s been dealing with in his drawn brows and the way his broad shoulders seem to bow under the weight of those thoughts. What can I possibly say to make that better? Nothing.

Jordan waves for Jovan to come as an answer. While the rest of us drop to the ground, reaching for tight calves or to empty our boots of sand, they disappear into the night with barely a sound.

I’ve just gotten my boots back on, now mercifully empty of irritating sand, when they reappear. Their expressions tell me the news isn’t good.

“It says if we let the hostage go, they’ll let us go,” Jordan says without delay.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the quick look that passes between Maddix and Connor. I don’t like that look. We can’t let this devolve into anyone thinking Jovan is a threat.

“It’s a lie,” I say.

Everyone starts talking at once, their whispers rising one over the other as each tries to put forth their own idea.

Jovan silences them all when he says, “They’ll have to kill you, no matter what happens to me. And if you do leave me here or something like that, I’ll still run. I can’t go back.”

This works like cold water on us. The silence lasts for a long moment while everyone takes that in.

“You could go back, Jovan. You could live your life and just…just forget about all this,” Cassi offers.

The laughs he gives is a bitter one and I feel even worse for getting him into this. “Right. Cassi, you know me. They killed those soldiers to hide my part in this. Seriously, do you think I could ever be okay with that?”

Jordan watches it all but the look on his face is cold when he says, “Like you don’t know how your family operates. You didn’t seem very surprised when I talked to you earlier.”

Jovan’s return look is just as icy. “I heard what they said while we were hiding. It’s different to see it on a sign, to know for sure. Yes, I’m surprised. My dad isn’t the nicest person, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

There’s a tense moment between all of us. Cassi breaks it by slapping her hands onto her knees and saying, “Fine. Let’s get moving then.”

I can tell that Maddix, and perhaps Connor, aren’t entirely satisfied so I say, “Listen. If we leave him tied up here for them to find, he could tell them where we are. If we kill him, they’ll hunt us even harder. As it stands now, our safest course is to keep him with us.”

I hate that it sounds so clinical, so without compassion, like I’m talking about whether we should keep a less-than-useful tool, but that’s what will make it effective. Maddix has no reason to feel any attachment to Jovan and many reasons to want whatever advantage he can get. It can’t get any plainer or clearer than my heartless words. He just nods and hoists his bags, walking fast into the night. I’ll have to be happy with that as an answer.

We stay off the road and well away from Benton as the little town falls behind us. There are a few sightings of soldiers, once in their camp. A bright fire advertises their location from a long way away, so they’re easy to avoid.

The others are all in vehicles, crawling slowly around Benton or near it. Why they aren’t looking for us further out I have no idea, but it occurs to me that they simply won’t risk their vehicles or horses. These are grunts, base soldiers without influence, and they wouldn’t want the consequences of ruining either of those rare and valuable assets.

For the first time I’m actually grateful for the unfair differences between people, between those born with prominence and power and those who will never have any. For once, this is working in our favor. Those grunts are my people and we can’t afford to do anything that might earn us a strike, like ruin Army equipment.

The word is passed along our ragged line that we’re close to the Red River and we’ll be able to stop for the day near a good crossing point that Jordan knows. I’ve never been to the river but I’ve heard about it from those who have. It’s supposed to be wide and deep and lush along its borders. I hope I’ll be able to see it for myself in the light rather than just this paltry moonlight. And best of all, the Red River marks the border between the Texas Republic and everywhere else.

I hear it first. It’s a low whoosh of sound somewhere in the distance. After that, the smell of water reaches me and I breathe it in deeply, almost making myself sneeze by sucking in all the dust that’s managed to stick to my nose and upper lip. Living where water is precious, where rainfall is never plentiful and where the canal seems like the oceans people talk about in other places, you discover that water has a smell. It’s a welcome, beautiful smell that brightens the soul. My tired feet move faster toward it.

We veer off to the west a little as we near the river, the sound of it growing louder with every step. Jordan motions for us to follow him at a distance so that he’s between us and the river—probably so we don’t fall in. I’m worried we’re heading in the wrong direction, but Jordan is jogging ahead and looking around intently, so I’m guessing he’s looking for something specific. His voice is quiet but urgent when he calls out. “Over here. Watch your steps.”

It’s still dark, but the eastern sky is a lighter shade of black. The twilight will highlight our profiles to searchers when it comes but I can see the shadows of brush that can hide us all along the river.

Scrambling down a steep incline of loose soil and rock in the dark is an adventure the likes of which I hope never to experience again. Jovan’s tight grip on my arm is all that keeps me from tumbling down and away. Jordan chances a quick flash of the light to show us the way and I see a small gap between a tumble of boulders and the bank. It looks far too small for all of us to fit into, but the others disappear, one after another, inside. I hang back because I’m not fond of small spaces. I’ve hidden in too many of them in my life, hoping my mother wouldn’t find me, to find them comfortable ever again.

A pressure on my back returns me to the present and Jordan whispers, “Go on. It will be fine.”

He has no idea why I’m reluctant, his expression curious and concerned, his fingers on the small of my back and pushing me forward. There’s no time to tell him now and the light is growing with every passing minute. I take a deep breath and squeeze inside.

Behind me, Jordan’s body sends us into deep darkness as it blocks the way out. It’s just a flash of darkness, but it’s enough to send my heart racing again. I rub my fingers against the rough stone and wait for it to pass. He slides past me and the gray light returns, taking my growing panic down a few notches.

It’s roomier in here than it looked from outside. The boulders create a rough front wall, the brush above a sort of roof and the deeply dug out bank an irregularly shaped room. We can all sit, and even stretch out our legs if we don’t mind being squeezed together a bit.

It’s far more comfortable than the shallow streambed of yesterday, so I suppose I should be happy. I’m not though, I’m thirsty, terrified and on top of that, we all stink.

There’s no time for a fire and Jordan tells us that we can’t drink the river water without boiling it first so we’ll have to just try to hold on until dark. The day lightens rapidly outside and a frightening amount of light seeps through. Above me, the border between the dug-out part of the bank and the brush clinging to the side seems far less dense than it did when it was dark. Shafts of light dance in the wind and rattle the silver-green leaves. The little breeze feels good on my upturned face.

Cassi and Jovan have their faces pressed to the gaps in the rocks, looking out at the river. Cassi’s shoulders give a shake and I hear a smothered sob. I can only think that there must be soldiers and I reach out to pluck at her jacket for news.

She turns to me and there’s no fear on her face, only a sort of wonder. Her eyes swim with tears she can ill afford without water, but there’s a smile on her face when she says, “It’s so beautiful.”

Now I really want to see. The image I have in my mind is a sort of endlessly running version of the lake. I’ve been to the lake exactly twice, once with Cassi’s family as a child and once more with Cassi and Connor last summer. It’s a long walk, the passes are expensive and a trip means camping overnight as well, so a trip to the lake is generally out of the question for people like me.

When Cassi’s family included me in their trip, I was too young to understand what going really meant. I’d imagined something like the canal but the lake was so much more. The music the trees made in the wind almost overwhelmed me because I’d never heard anything remotely like it before. I had put my hands over my ears against it and started crying.

Cassi’s father had laughed and eased my hands down from my ears, his bright blue eyes and ginger hair making his whole face smile along with his lips. He’d tried to teach Cassi and me to swim that day in water shallow enough that we could stand if we needed to. The memory of the hot sun reddening my skin, the cool mud squishing between my toes and the victory of my inelegant dogpaddle is one of my most treasured and vivid. I fell in love with Cassi’s family that day. She’s the sister I always wished I had.

She urges me to take her place at the gap and we scramble up and around each other until I can see for myself. I open my eyes to disappointment. It’s nothing like the lake. Instead of a body of water as large as a pasture, I see a muddy red stretch of languid liquid that I’m only sure is water because of its volume.

It’s wide, yes. And it does stretch a good distance to the other side, but that is as far as it goes in conforming to my expectations. Sandbars break the surface in sculpted swoops and we are at the apex of a deep curve, the river bowing toward us and then away. Even though the mud prevents me from seeing through the water, I can tell from here it’s very shallow, not even deep enough that it would require swimming to cross.