Blaze

22. A Name For What You Are

There's something I don't tell her, though. For a moment, after I woke up, just before the scream tore from me, just before my eyes unsealed, when I was somewhere in-between the dream and this nightmare, when all was black, I was at home. I was in my bed, eyes closed, trying not to think about Austin or Mother's legs. This was a strangely cool night, but this was a night spent in the same place as nearly all my nights before that (I spent some nights with Austin when he started having nightmares about aliens). It didn't matter that my body felt the soft forest earth and the icy air and it didn't matter that not long ago the Captain had sliced my mind open with his thoughts; I didn't remember all that.

I was at home. I was at home and it was the strongest fitting-in I think I've ever felt.

That's why something clenches within me when I remember she said I'll ask for more. Because she's right. I will.

Soon.

Just for the chance of a sliver of a moment.

Soon.

---

She gives me water and a minute to collect my thoughts. So I sit down, head swirling, still half-caught in the dream. My fingers move over the smooth leather pouch like they have a life of their own, as regular as a pendulum. Like they're trying to read it.

In my dream, the door gives way, and Austin's eyes widen in betrayal, seeing me with Jackie.

All fades.

That wasn't a dream.

It was a nightmare.

The dry film in my eyes thins then vanishes; the dark-eyed girl's face becomes a focused shadow. I blink a few times, making sure the film is really gone. Yes. I can see right. I can see the thick canopy of trees above and the cool shadows they create. I can see my body, though it feels strange and reacts too slowly to my thoughts.

I can see the hanging bodies.

I can see the machine.

You're back.

The pouch is empty; I emptied it in one final gulp. The water was free of crusty things, and strangely metallic. Almost salty. I want to wash it from my mouth, but it cures my thirst and pillows my throat.

I toss the pouch to the ground.

I want to see the Captain again, I think at Alaina.

I taste poison under my tongue, bitter and warm, and swallow it down—only for more to replace it. My head burns and so do my fists, in painful waves that leave me reeling. I feel like a part of me is outside my body, pushing my back forward with all its strength. Wanting me to spring.

No.

I'll go myself, then. I should remember the way. Standing up, I start to walk. Away from the hanged corpses. Away from the slow-whirring machine.

Every tree looks the same. Every inch of everything is the exact same as anything.

"You'll never find him," she says out loud.

I ignore her. I keep on walking; I'm good at walking, and having no goal in mind or map to follow lends more fuel to my legs; there's no distance to plan for, no goal to reach. I look ahead and want to run, get lost somewhere. Getting lost in the forest would be better than this. Better than being here. I'd be better off. Better off, just like they'll be (Jackie and Austin and Mother), since they'll no longer have me to lose.