Forgotten

Chapter 23

            I KNOW HAYLEY'S AFRAID OF ME, BUT I HAVE TO FOLLOW her anyway. To my relief, she makes a beeline for the designated rendezvous point. I'm about thirty yards behind her, not wanting to let her out of my sight but afraid of her reaction if she sees me following her. When she arrives at the gap between the two houses, Rowan appears out of the shadows and hurries towards her. He kneels down, and she runs straight into his arms, which, unlike mine, are clean and free of blood. At this, I feel a flurry of feelings churn inside of me—jealousy, because she used to only do that with me, and guilt, because I know that this was all my fault.

                Rowan sees me tailing her and stands, a smile dancing on his lips. It vanishes as soon as he sees my expression. "Stella? What's wrong?" He runs towards me, his eyes deepening with concern as he sees my bloodied hands. "Are you hurt?"

          "I got a cut from the glass coming in," I mumble, watching Hayley longingly as she hangs back, unwilling to come closer. "But mostly, it's from the guard."

             "The guard?" Rowan's raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You...you used the knife, then?"

             "Yeah." I run my hand through my hair, not caring that it will cake my scalp with filth. "And Hayley saw me do it."

            Rowan glances back at her, understanding glinting in his eyes as he turns back to me. "It's hard, you know, for a little girl to see that," he says softly. "But you have to know that you can't punish yourself for doing what you had to."

            "Punish myself?" I laugh derisively. "I don't think that'll be necessary, what with Hayley's behavior. She won't even come near me—that's punishment enough."

            Instead of arguing, Rowan takes my hand and examines my injured arm. He shakes his head worriedly, gently brushing his thumb against the gash, and I wince. "Sorry," he says, giving me an apologetic look. "We'll need to bandage this when we get to the truck stop."

            "How far away is it?" I ask tiredly. I hope it's close—I'm completely spent.

            "Not far. It's a mile or so from the fence."

            The three of us set off, Hayley still determinedly ignoring me as we hurry through the shadows between the houses. I ache to run towards her and explain everything, even though I know that no apology I can offer will make even the slightest difference in wake of what I've done.

            The houses are clustered close together, linked only by a network of broad dirt roads that Rowan somehow manages to navigate in the darkness. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of walking, we come to the edge of a house and I feel a swell of reassurance at the sight before me. A paved road is just ahead, cutting across the rows of houses like a furrow through earth.

            Rowan looks back at me. "We're headed in the right direction," he says. "It's not much further now."

            Sure enough, we only need to walk a couple of blocks down the main road before we come to the truck stop. It's a concrete building, much more modern than the homesteads that surround it, and is illuminated by a single floodlight. There are several pumps at intervals in the lot around the truck stop, and every one of them is abandoned except one.

            The truck is large, the largest I've ever seen, with a red fender and hood and a huge white cargo container on the back. The driver is nowhere to be seen, and I glance at Rowan questioningly. "Is that it?"

            He nods. "I think so. I'll go and check it out."

            Carefully, looking left and right to make sure no one's watching, Rowan creeps across the lot and to the truck's metal door. He knocks three times and waits. Seemingly endless seconds go by as we wait, and nothing happens. I'm about to give up hope when I hear a creak, and the truck door swings open.