Temper (7 page)

Asher steps back, her hands clasped. I’m foolish enough to imagine it’s so she doesn’t reach for me.

“I should go,” she says.

I nod. Anything I can think of to say would start a conversation I’m not ready for now. Except one thing. “Goodbye.”

She blinks, and I imagine I see tears shining in her eyes, but then she blinks again and they’re clear. Her lips press together, and she turns away without saying goodbye.

I watch every step as she leaves.

[Asher]

“Alone at last,” Davyd says.

He’s stopped the dirt bike the green robes lent us for our mission a little ways over the top of the first of the Upheaval Mountains. We’re between the settlement and the city, out of sight of anyone who might have been watching us leave.

Sitting behind him on the bike, I’m aware of every place our bodies touch, and I’m careful not to tense. Every breath is a mixture of fuel and clean male. He’s testing me, and I’ll not react, not over a petty jibe.

“No retort? Temper under control?” He grins at me over his shoulder. “Nice to know I’m safe from being murdered in my sleep.”

My smile is sweet. “I make no promises.”

The hidden sun is beginning to lighten the distant horizon, and though the clouds above are black and heavy, the rain is holding off. Part of me aches to be back at the camp. For so long I’ve felt nothing but hollow; yet losing myself in Samuai’s arms last night created a spark. A spark that just might bring me back to life.

If I wasn’t risking my life with his brother.

I set myself and focus on the task ahead. The city isn’t far, and when I return with the medicine or the antidote or whatever it is that stopped us all killing each other on the ship, I’ll find Samuai and finish what we started.

“Your friend gave me this for you.” Davyd interrupts my thoughts. He holds out his hand, fist clenched.

I hesitate and then open my palm. A pale white flower drops into my hand followed by a piece of paper. A note from Kaih, it reads simply,
You have me
.

She’s reminding me of when I stood up in the council meeting and listed the reasons I should be the one to go on this mission. It came down to the fact that I have no one to miss me if I’m gone.

Turning away from Davyd, I slide the flower into my bra, the velvet of the petals are soft against my skin.

I will come back. I will succeed.

“Hold on,” he calls.

I have to grab at him to stop from falling as the bike leaps forward. I imagine I feel the rumble of his amusement. It’s going to be a long journey.

***

An hour later, he takes a sharp left onto a barely-there trail leading higher into the mountains. Rock and gravel spray behind us at the change in direction. The bike skids a few feet and then grips the loose surface.

“This isn’t the way we came,” I shout. I’m not great with directions, but the road between the settlement and the city was pretty much straight when we travelled in a convoy of beaten-up trucks a few weeks ago.

“I know.”

That’s it. No more explanation. We ride on for a few minutes, and it’s only when he’s squirming I realize, to my annoyance, I’ve tightened my grip on his waist. I let go, switching my hold onto the back of the bike behind me. “Stop.”

He doesn’t. I’m sure he’s heard me, but he nurses the bike over a bump in the track as though I didn’t speak. I don’t ask again. I reach around and place my hand over his on the brake, squeezing, forcing him to slow. The bike swerves and I let go, but my actions work where words failed. The moment he stops, I jump off the bike.

He glares, lifting his helmet off, and he runs a hand through his damp hair before folding his arms. “What the hell? You could have got us killed.” His voice vibrates with fury.

“You didn’t listen.”

“Maybe because this isn’t the best place to stop for a deep and meaningful chat about your feelings.”

I look around. The track is narrow but clear. On one side, rock climbs toward the sky making a vertical wall, and on the other, slopes down for a little way, the clearing having captured some pockets of soil where tiny grasses struggle to grow, before rising again.

“Terrifying.”

“Walk a little that way.”

I’m torn between curiosity because he’s so certain he has a point and general irritation at his high-handed manner. Seems the whole freedom thing is working for me. “I don’t need to follow your orders anymore.”

He expels a breath through clenched teeth and drops his helmet before grabbing my hand. A jolt of awareness throws my concentration off for a second, and I find myself being led along. We round a curve in the track.

I stumble back. “Holy crap.”

It’s like a giant has taken a bite out of the side of the mountain, chewed it up, and spat it out farther down the valley. It’s not simply that there’s a cliff face on one side and a drop on the other, but I swear the rock curves away under the path so narrow I can see pieces of it crumbling before my eyes.

“We’re not going on that.”

He heads back to the bike. “We are.”

“Why? There’s a perfectly good road to the city. We travelled it a few weeks ago.”

“The common, well-known road?”

“Yes.”

“The one the Company is probably monitoring if they have even half a brain.”

Of course they have to be. I should have thought of that. “There must be a better option than a track we’re unlikely to survive.”

“We will if you sit back there and keep your hands to yourself. I know it’s difficult because of your constant need to touch me but when falling to your death is the alternative, I kind of hoped you’d at least try.”

Need to touch him? My jaw tightens, and I take a few deep breaths, determined not to respond. No matter how satisfying it might be, throttling him won’t solve anything. I force myself to focus on the practicalities.

My eye runs over the old bike. We’ve travelled as light as possible. A Q each, and I’ve a knife in my right boot. My pack has a change of clothes and an old tablet loaded with all the maps we could find. Between us we have food bars from the ship with enough nutrients to keep us going for a day.

I don’t know what Davyd’s carrying in his pack under the small bike seat. But it can’t be much.

“We don’t have enough gas to take detours,” I say.

“I’ve thought of that. There’s the remains of a small town on the way down the other side of the mountains and a tiny station has some gas in a concealed tank out the back. It’s too out of the way for the scavengers to bother.”

I stare. Like me, he’s spent most of his life on a spaceship buried under ground. “How can you possibly know?”

“Unlike some, I haven’t spent my time here wallowing in how wounded and empty I feel. As well as learning to drive the bike, I’ve been making friends. Talking to people. Getting details.”

“Using them, you mean.”

He doesn’t deny it. “Preparation is key to this being successful.”

“Why do you care so much about the rage thing? It affects Lifers more than Fishies. You said so yourself.”

He shields his eyes and looks out over the valley. “We’d better get moving if we’re going to make it to the place I want to camp by sundown.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a heart and my question affected it, but it’s more likely he has some plan of his own for when we reach the Company. He showed back on the ship he’d do whatever it took to achieve his own goal. There’s time, I’ll work out why this matters to him, and then I’ll make sure he can’t screw up the mission. The rage inside me means I have no choice.

Movement behind me makes me spin and drop to my knees, heart hammering.

“Scared of dogs?” Davyd asks.

A moment later, a brown mutt slinks out from between some boulders. The same one from last night, I’m sure of it. I hold out my hand. “You following me Brown Dog?”

He doesn’t wag his tail, but when his head lifts there’s a warm light in his dark eyes. We’re miles from camp, he must have run hard to keep up. His chest heaves, showing the harsh gaps between his ribs. Before I can think, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a ration bar.

“Don’t feed the thing,” Davyd says. “You’ll only encourage it.”

I ignore him and break off a piece. The dog comes closer, his belly low on the gravel, his nose twitching as he sniffs the food. When he halts, I toss it to land at his feet. Despite the fact he’s starving, his head tilts in question.

“It tastes like crap, but it will fill you up. Eat it.”

One gulp and the food’s gone. A moment later, the dog runs past me and rounds the corner. I take three steps after it before I catch myself. Davyd’s right, I shouldn’t be wasting food on some wild dog. And I shouldn’t run off after him in some lame attempt to save him from the dangerous path.

All that matters is getting to the Company.

I straighten and meet Davyd’s amused gaze. “You sure you can handle that road?”

“I’m sure.”

***

I make it through the more dangerous stretches of trail by closing my eyes. Despite being aware of how much I’m putting my life in Davyd’s abilities to keep us upright, I comfort myself with the knowledge that I’ve never met anyone more concerned with their own survival. That and some half-whispered prayers to anyone and everything I can think of who might give us a little luck.

It works.

We break for food around midday. We eat ration bars only made bearable by some of the lemon tea I had at Lady’s last night. I almost ask Davyd whether he got it from her when saying farewell, but I resist. I know she’s ignored him since Samuai returned, and as much as he annoys me, I can’t forget the way he cared for her when she was grieving.

We’re sitting in silence when the rain that’s threatened all day falls with a rush like a bowl emptying from the sky. The shower passes as fast as it arrives, and though we’re both half-soaked, the afternoon’s ride is easy going. The track is rough but there are no more death plunges.

I estimate it’s late afternoon when we stop again.

When Davyd talked about the remnants of a town, I imagined an old-fashioned roadside diner like the ones in the vids we used to watch on the ship, back when we thought we’d left Earth far behind. Instead, the track leads us to an old farmhouse with a broken fuel pump at the end of a long drive.

“Town?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’s what I was told. This must be it, though.”

We leave the bike concealed in some trees and make our way closer on foot. There’s an open grassland, once a farming field, and not much to hide behind. But I figure we’d have as good a look at anyone attacking. I relax pretty quickly. The place is deserted.

What appeared to be an intact building from the hilltop is anything but whole. It looks like it’s been split in the Upheaval by a chasm down the center of the old kitchen. A woodstove hangs over the edge, and I wonder what happened to the farmer who lived here. I find myself teetering at the edge of a drop into blackness. What happened in those terrible days when the world descended into chaos blamed on unseen aliens? Did they survive the quakes and floods? Did anyone fall?

The single bedroom has a mattress on the floor and a cupboard with a few clothes left hanging on wooden hangers.

Davyd walks the perimeter of the house area and when he returns, nods as though we’ve come to an agreement. “We’ll stop for the night here.”

“Here? I thought we’d get closer to the city. The longer it takes, the more likely it is we’ll return to more lives lost, or worse a Company attack that we’ve missed because we’ve come all this way. We could be there and inside before midnight.”

“We could be.”

“And?”

“And we’d be tired and sloppy and likely to get killed before we’re within sight of New City.”

“Your plan is better?”

“Yes. Sleep for a few hours here. Get into a good position for reconnaissance. Being rested will allow us to get that much closer without detection. We’ll go in the next day.”

“But that’s a whole day wasted.”

“Only if you don’t want to survive.”

A yawn defeats my argument before I can make it. I don’t know why I’m so tired. It’s not like being on the back of the bike has been hard work. “Fine. But I get the mattress, and you take first watch.”

He doesn’t argue, and it doesn’t take long to find the hidden fuel and prepare to leave first thing. The weather’s clearing, and tomorrow should be good for travel.

I drag the stove into the bedroom and light a fire for warmth against the chill in the night air while Davyd prepares a simple stew from a dehydrated ration pack. I don’t look at the mush as I eat, a trick Mother taught me when I was little. I used to complain that the supposed meat and vegetables all tasted exactly the same.

After the plain dinner, Davyd surprises me with some fresh apples and even cuts them into pieces for us to share, covering them with icing sugar to make a sweet treat. When I settle back, my stomach is satisfied, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

The mattress is lumpy and holds lingering body odors of those who’ve slept here before. Yet, my body relaxes onto it as soon as I lie down. I try to watch Davyd, sitting up by the window on an old wooden chair he brought in from the veranda, but my eyes drift closed. I listen to his breathing instead, glad I’m not alone in this strange place.

Silences are rarely comfortable with Davyd.

With last night’s dinner on my mind and the last of that lemon tea lingering on my taste buds, I find myself curious about how much he knows.

“I saw Huckle last night,” I begin, forcing my eyes open to see his reaction.

Davyd’s lip curls. “A dinner date with Mother and Little Boy Lost? How sweet, all of you playing happy families.”

I ignore the sarcasm. “I didn’t know he was so bad.”

“Yes, it’s tragic.”

Rather than the sadness I saw in Samuai, he’s amused. Sure, Huckle gave me the creeps and killed my father, but to glory in what the man’s become? I shudder. “You’re sick, you know that?”