Death Alley

Chapter twenty-three

Dinner wasn't nearly as awkward as my first encounter with Inga, and I was basically sitting with Brian alone. We sat at a nearby campfire with a drunken American across the fire pit from us.

I didn't exactly want anyone to listen in on my conversation with Brian, but I assumed that the drunkard was too intoxicated to remember or even understand what we were saying. So, I spoken with a free tongue.

"It has been a crazy day," hasn't it?" I ask Brian casually and somewhat quietly.

"Definitely," Brian replied. "First my parents chase us out of the house, then we transport into a lake, and now we are here. I'm exhausted." Brian outstretched his arms and yawned.

I nodded, drowsiness taking me as well. However, as the conversation seized, something else came to me. The spell, Brian had known the spell without me telling him. I glanced over at him and then back at my plate. What was up with him?

My troubled thoughts were interrupted by an elderly man shuffling towards Brian and me. "Here wasn't much soup left," the man stated, holding out his clay bowl.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Inga staring at both of us, her hard eyes analyzing us, assuring that Brian and I made the right decision, followed the rules. Her stare sent chills down my back.

I hesitated, but I eventually poured half of my potato soup in the mans bowl. The elder smiled and thanked me with a slight nod.

"This communist crap is gonna get old eventually," Brian whispered in my ear, leaning his head onto my shoulder.

"I wouldn't talk about it so much," I wanted him. "Inga is strict, and traitors will have consequences. I think she meant just in general... And food-wise mainly but I can't be sure."

Brian glanced at Inga, who was now sitting a few camps away. "I don't trust her."

"I don't either," I agreed. But did I? She seemed like a good person, but perhaps misunderstood or protective. The intimidation with the knife was kind of a red flag but I would be cautious too in these conditions. Inga didn't seem like a villain, just someone trying to survive.

Brian lifted his head off of my shoulder, staring at me, his blue eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the night sky. "We have to," Brian concluded.

I only nodded, and turned back to my make-shift bowl. However, just as I did so, Brian's soft fingers brushed my cheek, and he gently turned my face to him. "How is it? Your bruise?"

I reached up and touched the spot where Brian's father had hit me. I winced as my fingers glided across the purple, swelled flesh. "It hurts, but it's tolerable."

Brian nodded, shying away from me.

"You couldn't help it," I told him. "I jumped in front of you to save you and there is nothing you could have done to stop that."

Brian set his bowl to the side, had barely touched it, and scooted closer to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my head gently. "Two times," Brian whispered. "Two times that I failed to help you."

I said nothing. What Brian felt couldn't be forced away with words, and I knew that. Even with the small amount of time I had known Brian, I had recognized one thing about him- he helps those around him, but if he fails to do so, he condemns himself no matter what. I wish I could have helped, but I couldn't.

Instead, I leaned my body onto his, my chin resting on his shoulder. I wrapped my arm around his neck and just held him close to me. This sense of tranquility made all the other bad things in the world disappear.
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