Lifeboat

33. New Shoes

"Dante, can you hear me?"

As lame as the question sounded, I felt it necessary to ask. Dried trickles of blood trailing from his earlobes and down the sides of his neck left me concerned about his hearing.

He blinked slowly, like he was drunk.

Erica huffed loudly and began to pace the room behind us. A twirl of her clothes heralded every turn of her trajectory.

I tutted at her and focused my attention on the bundle of a man in front of me.

He wouldn't look at me.

"Dante, if you can hear me raise your hand, or a finger, anything."

Fixing his eyes on a point over my shoulder, Dante lifted a grubby hand and gently elongated his middle finger.

"So there's nothing wrong with your sense of humour then."

Swish, swish. Erica's pacing had increased.

I grinded my teeth and reached out to touch his hand. My intention being to fold the offending finger down. Dante swatted my hand away. He still refused to look at me.

Swish, swish.

"Dante, we've come to get you out of here. Do you think you can walk? Because, if not, I'm pretty sure Erica will be able to sling you over her shoulder."

Swish, swish. "Don't put thoughts in his head. Get him moving."

No answer. No eye contact. Only the fixed, vacant expression on his bruised and hollow face. All the while that damnable streak of a woman insisted on wearing out the floor behind me.

"For goodness sake," I hissed through clamped teeth. "Why won't you look at me?"

Swish, swish. "Time's up. I am going to carry him out of here after all."

I rounded on Erica, spinning on my haunches, my sweating feet screeched over the smooth floor.
"Oh my god in heaven! Do you ever stop? Give the man one moment. One damn second to get his head back in order without you stomping and complaining. Is there an ounce of humanity within that super-sized advanced brain of yours? Did that section get left behind by evolution? Because I swear, if you... "

"Tyke, shut up."

Dante's croaky voice stopped my tirade from escalating any further. He nodded sharply at Erica, a motion that caused him to grimace.
"Yes, I can walk, but I would appreciate an arm to hang on to."

He continued to avoid me.

I jumped up and stormed off to the door. Throwing my head back, a sudden urge to wound him grabbed me.
"Such a shame your partner in crime didn't make it. You do realise that he set you up, I hope."

Without waiting for an answer, I yanked back the door panel and unceremoniously stepped over the body of Marco. Dante could go to hell. If he thought that I would turn him in, then why was I busting my hump to help him?

Why?

Dante limped to the doorway, his arm around Erica's graceful but sturdy shoulders. She held him close, her body taking his weight. He looked down at Marco. His jawline clenched tighter as he exhaled noisily through his bloody nostrils.

Then he met my eye.

"Take off his shirt, Poll." He started to cry. Soundless tears ran down his face. His voice cracked. "Put some clothes on. How am I supposed to look at you when you're naked?"
A quiver of a smile broke across his lips.

I returned the smile as I bent to strip the grey shirt from Marco's heavy corpse. Unlike the body, the weight in my heart lifted easily. I smirked at Dante.
"Arsehole."

"Takes one to know one."

Erica gasped while she raised her hands high to the ceiling in mock prayer.
"Oh, saint's be praised, they're back at it again."

Stripping off the dead man's boots, I then sat down to buckle them in as closely as possible to my much smaller feet. The hard synthetic moulded into my shape with each tug on the strips over the bridge of my feet. They wrapped in so well a new confidence brewed within me. Jumping up, I clapped my hands together.
"Right. Let's get out of here."

Erica gestured with a nod down the dim corridor.
"That way."

Dante's weakness limited the pace of our escape. Every time I was forced to stop and wait for them to catch up left me dreading the echo of footsteps on our tail. Someone must have noticed that I was missing by now, even if Dante hadn't been checked. But then, why would anyone be interested in disturbing the Engineer in his work? Unless, the man with the grey blue eyes had decided to pay him another visit. That was one person I had no intention of running into again if I could help it.

Why are they taking so long?

"You know, for someone in such a hurry, Erica, you really aren't making much progress."

Snorting, Erica hoisted Dante up higher to her shoulder and took longer strides towards me.

Dante's cheeks winced upwards as he sucked in his breath, the effort obvious across his face.

I jogged backwards lightly on my toes. The protection and support of the footwear set the energy and suppleness of my youth free.

Was it youth? Am I young?

Shaking my head, I grinned at Dante's progress. We had begun to move at a good speed at last.

Eventually, Erica stopped and lowered her arm from Dante who immediately slumped against the corridor wall.
"Stop!" She barked at me.

I slunk back to them, keeping an eye on the tunnel behind us.

"Here." Erica knelt down beside the heavily breathing Dante and scratched her nails in the shape of a triangle. The area of the wall she marked out began at the join of the floor to the wall and culminated to a point barely a third of the way upwards. It came up to Dante's knees.

Erica rocked back on her haunches and spread her hands flat across the shape in the wall. Her shoulders rounded as she put pressure onto the area. I could hear her exhaling deeply.

A sharp crack of the wall gave way and Erica began to laugh.
"Right where she said it would be."

The triangle block of concrete slid back easily under her hands. It fell out with a solid thump onto a soft surface.

Erica stood up, blocking my view to help Dante down to the hole. Her dress flapped around her ankles with a breeze of fresh air coming from the exit.

We stuffed Dante unceremoniously through the gap and struggled out after him into the night.

While Erica used her immense strength to seal the triangle back into the wall, I knelt on the ground next to Dante.

We were in an open landscape. No shadowy figures of trees or plant life to be seen. No rustle of the wind through leaves. The ground scrunched up dryly in my fingers, coarse and grainy.
Sand.
To prove my theory, the distant rumble of waves thudded into the shore to my right. A waft of salty air washed over my face, tugging at my hair.

Dante's cold, clammy hand spread over mine.
"Find us shelter for a while." The strength in his voice had gone. His words crumbled into a whisper. "I have to rest."