Blaze

28. Nowhere To Run

My imagination steals some legs. Austin's wound alternatively becomes a giant, pus-sweating, festering hole. A series of thin deadly slashes. A coagulated red mess of blood splatter. I look at his face, try to read it, but the only discomfort he shows is fleeting—he even smiles through it. I don't know.

Auz.

Auz, here.

He stands up awkwardly and runs his fingers through his cropped hair. (I wish it were long enough to be parted.)

We're silent yet not silent, breathing deeply, straining against our own thoughts. He can't hear the revelling Raiders, but I can. I hear throaty voices and sounds of wet tearing. Something raw and burning is absorbed in their throats. Their black eyes shine with light like a night sky with one small, long-ago dead star wallowing in the middle.

Three days, though not quite. It'll have to be sooner. He hides the pain well, both for his sake and mine, but my mind is more attuned to the little details now. I concentrate on every flex of his jaw and face, every shadow reflected in his eyes, the weight he lifts with his smile. And I know how thirst works. He could survive three days (perhaps), but he'll start feeling close to death before that.

Yes. He's hurting.

You should celebrate. You're not alone anymore.

The voice is a snake. I wish I could grab it somehow and twist it in half. Break it before it breaks me.

I breathe deep. The rational voice—my voice—is somewhere, chained down. It struggles and I understand what I need to do.

It won't be long now. The Captain or Alaina will ask to see me. Check up on me. And there are things I've done I can't take back.

And Dad.

I'm so close to Dad.

Three.

"Are you angry?" Austin asks, quietly. He's looking down.

You have no idea. And all your eyes say is Go Away.

Almost his voice, almost his words, but distorted. Mocking.

My head throbs with heat. This heat isn't anger. It's something else. Something wild and stupid. It's the push against my back ordering me to lunge. To jump. To fall.

"There's a party going on," I deflect.

"For me?" There's a small smile on his lips now. God, he's joking. "Some kind of welcome?"

Another me laughs at the shadow I've become. I can barely speak, barely stand to look at him. Maybe I'll piss myself again, or pass out. My head is its own sun. I haven't felt this heat since I entered this unnaturally cool forest. It's like all of it, all of the heat I would be experiencing if I were on a normal road, is hurled at me at once.

I know what I have to do. I'll let Austin plan. Let him believe he can help me. Save me.

But when the time comes for us to leave, I'll send him off alone. I have to stay. No matter what. I can't let the Captain track me to home. I can't change what I am. Ismael was right when he called Austin pure. If anything, I'm Austin's opposite, always haunted by images of blood, the image of pooling red so deeply ingrained in me I no longer wonder where the memory comes from.