Goodbye Eli

Chapter 9: A Lack of Communication

I perch on a branch near the top of an old oak tree, watching through the scope of my sniper rifle at the scene several hundred meters away.

Eli unwinds the rope from around Mikey's shoulders, then his wrists. With his arms free, Mikey rubs his bruises and cowers in response to something Eli says. But he nods his head and Eli tosses a clean shirt at his chest. Mikey struggles to put it on and then limps off toward the camp entrance.

Eli insisted I stay back. And by 'insist' I mean he said less than three words and I didn't argue. This could easily turn into a trap. I know that. He does too. Mikey could betray us or simply be found out and then we have a camp full of angry men descending upon us. All because I felt sentimental. I shift in my spot, getting comfortable for the long wait ahead. With the sunset, I ready myself for the night chill. If things go haywire I'll jump on my horse I left tied off at the base of the tree and race away. Eli can fend for himself, besides I won't be much help in a fight. If I shoot from this distance I'll probably miss and only accomplish giving away my position.

With every passing hour, my eyelids grow heavier. My mind wanders to the mysterious man standing still as a statue below. Eli leans against a tree, arms crossed in a relaxed fashion as he waits. The mask has remained on the entire time Mikey traveled with us. Part of me wonders if I will ever see his face again. Surely he knows my excuse to keep Mikey alive is just that: an excuse. He barely said five words since that afternoon when I spoke up.

Is he mad at me for interfering? Maybe he will walk away if things go haywire. Or decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth and stop this good guy charade. Tie me up and do whatever he wants like the chief.

No.

He wouldn't do that. Eli never once gave me a reason to think such a thing. The way he kills is monstrous but he remains the only monster in this world who held my freedom in his hand and offered it back to me.

The threads of my mind begin to fray and stretch and I feel myself drift when a sudden sharp, high-pitched whistle pierces the air, almost like an eagle's shriek. My eyes shoot open and I look through the rifle's scope. Eli is gone. The space is empty. But a second whistle draws my attention downward.

At the base of my tree stands Eli, my bag in hand. Did I fall asleep? The morning sun begins to peak over the horizon. Eli waits patiently, handing my bag over once I get on my horse. Inside I find my uncle's journal and a few other things from my past life. Mikey did well.

We travel in silence for most of the day. When we stop to make camp Eli lowers the scarf and lifts his goggles. I let myself stare. There is no anger, at least none that I can see. But he avoids my gaze.

"Are you upset with me?" I ask.

"What?"

"I interfered earlier. With the boy, Mikey. I stopped you from killing him."

He frowns but continues to stare into the fire. "I'm not upset with you."

"But there is something."

His lips press together as he fidgets with the stick of roasting meat. "Is he someone important to you?"

"No."

He turns to me, brows knit. "Then... why?"

"You kill too easily, Eli," I say quietly. "Sometimes it is necessary, I understand that. You saved my life twice and for that I am grateful. But watching a man die is not an easy thing for me."

Silence stretches between us as he returns his gaze to the fire. It crackles and pops as fat drips from the roasting meat above. A strange calm passes over the forest as the sun dips below the horizon and crickets pick up their chorus. Eli seems lost in thought during dinner and I let him think. He is a part of this world but I am from the one that came before. In this one, I am lost but I think he becomes lost in mine too.