Australia Under Attack: Unbroken

Part 5

I can taste the blood. The cut on my bottom lip has split. I trace my tongue over it, wincing when my saliva makes it sting. It's swollen, the skin around my mouth sore and probably bruised. I touch my fingers to my right eye; it's swollen and tender, too. I sit up on an elbow and turn to face Erin. She's still asleep, but the sun is coming up and we need to keep moving, so I nudge her shoulder.

She furrows her brow and groans before opening her eyes. "What?"

"We gotta move."

She groans again before rolling over. I nudge her again.

"Hey," I say. "Do I have a black eye?"

She turns around and squints at me, her eyes widening when she sees my face. "Yep. It really is. Does it hurt?"

I nod. "Yep. It really does."

I glance down to inspect the rest of my aching body, seeing matching bruises down my arms and along my collarbone from where they grabbed me and dragged me along the dirt.

And now we're alone. Bleeding and bruised and afraid. Sleeping in the bush, using the daylight to find the road. Any road that will lead us away from where we were. For two days we've been wandering like this. I thought we'd be out by now. And we were angry when we left. Too angry to care to bring enough supplies. I'm still angry, but now I'm starving, exhausted and dehydrated, too. If we don't find a road or a house or something soon, we're both going to die. And it's all their fault.

I climb to my feet and dust the dirt and leaves off of my clothes. "We need to find something today," I say as I reach down and help Erin up off the dry earth. "A road. A house. Anything."

"We will."

I look up at the clear blue sky, framed by the branches of the tall trees that surround us.

Six months ago, looking up at the sky relaxed me. It was something I did when I needed to find some peace. When I needed to be reminded that the universe was much bigger than my tiny little human problems.

I don't need to contemplate the clouds or the stars to know that now.

I don't need to be reminded that I am a tiny little speck living on a slightly bigger speck-but still just a speck-in a big, menacing universe.

Stargazing isn't relaxing anymore. It's stressful. Panic inducing. Suffocating.

Now, stars are the enemy.

Now, what you're looking at might not be a star at all. It could be your worst nightmare.

The stars are at war with us.

And they're winning.

I don't know if we're safer alone than we were at the camp, but I'd rather be out here than back there.

Not that it was our choice to leave.

After I wailed on Don and Allen, a meeting was held. They brought Erin and I into Don's tent, which had become the headquarters of our camp. It was bigger than all the other tents, with three rooms and enough height for the average person to stand straight. Two of his lackeys took us inside by the arms and held us in front of him as he stood there with his arms crossed. He was clearly on a power trip.

At first, he was sympathetic. He put a hand on Erin's shoulder and frowned. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Then he turned to me, all sympathy erased from his hard face. "But there was no excuse for your behaviour. We have enough to worry about here, we don't need some rebel-wannabe starting fights, too." He took a step closer. "Shaving your head and throwing punches doesn't make you tough."