Salvage

One

Past - Adam

I am last in line.

It's outdoors time, and we are shuffling forward. One step. Then another. The frigid air bites through my thin clothing. Through the links of the high barbed fence, I can see the tundra, flat, white, frozen in time and ice, stretching out to the horizon. My own bare feet are sliding over chilly concrete. Grey, just like the walls, the uniforms of the perimeter guards, our own clothes, the sky. It seems like life is grey, and there is no other color. I see the narrow pair of shoulders in front of me shivering. Daniel. He has always been my closest friend. Being in the cell next to his for so many years, neither of us had a choice.

"Thirteen." I mutter the word through stiff lips, and I look around with only my eyes, sure my whisper has shattered the silence, and the guards will descend on us. I don't dare to use his real name aloud, not when so much is at stake. Today is the day I am last in line.

His shoulders barely twitch in acknowledgment, and his shaved head doesn't turn, but I know he hears me. We've been planning this too long to forget. Since the first day we had been tucked away in our cells, forgotten by the world, we had made a pact. We would get out. No matter how many years it took, we would keep each other sane. Help each other remember. And help each other escape.

The gate to the outer fenced courtyard requires two codes to unlock. The front guard raises his hand in signal, and our shuffling line comes to a delayed stop. The rear guard makes his way up, past me, past Daniel, past the whole long line, to the front. He is supposed to come back to the rear of the line before we move forward. The last few days, he has been staying at the front. I fear for a moment he will return to his old routine, but he has grown overconfident in our behavior. He doesn't see us as humans anymore. We use it to our advantage.

The line begins to move forward again, filing in through the narrow gate before spilling out into the courtyard and wandering listlessly towards their exercise of choice. There are a few free weights provided, but most people just choose to jog in circles around the enclosure until it is time to go back inside. I watch as the line in front of us grows shorter and shorter, until finally, Daniel and I are next through the gate.

My heart races in my chest. Almost time. Our window is small, less than a minute. But we have practiced this move through the countless hours of waiting, wondering, hoping, despairing. All that time suspended, each second crawling by slower than the last, and now in the moment, my mind goes numb.

Daniel steps forward. He is through. He is past the first guard who stands waiting to close the gate. I step forward next, gather my muscles, and burst into action. I leap forward, launching myself up off the ground towards Daniel. He is ready, turning towards me and cupping his hands together. I plant my bare foot against his hands, their warmth scalding against my freezing feet for a brief moment before I am launched up, feeling weightless, flying through the air. 

I have half a second to brace myself for the pain before I see the fence within gripping distance. I twist forward and latch on, heart thundering so loudly I can't hear anything else. I see as if in slow motion the perimeter guards stationed along our fence start to turn, to run towards us. Time flying by. Too fast. I feel the bite against my fingers, skin ripping and tearing against the barbed wire spirals as I scramble up. 

I cling to the fence, gripping hard with slippery, bloody fingers, and swoop down, leaning and stretching out my other hand. Just as the guards are about to reach Daniel, his hand clasps through mine, and I use his momentum to swing him up, over the top of the fence, and drop him down on the other side. 

The guards reach the opposite side of the fence just as I release it and fall, bracing myself. As my feet touch the packed, frozen snow, I collapse and roll with the momentum. I'm too cold or in too much of a hurry to feel the pain, as I feel a hand grasping at my shoulder, pulling me up, pushing me forward.

"Run."

We have to get out of their sight, and range. Soon. I launch myself forward, up off the ground, and into a sprint. We have worked at this, too, using as much of our energy as we could to build up stamina. Still, the icy wind resists me, seeping into my chest and lungs, making me want to stop and gasp for air. No time.

I hear several rippling cracks through the air and stumble to the ground, making myself a tiny target, waiting until the sound of the gunshots fades before breaking into a sprint once more. Daniel carries on running, a little ahead of me now, and I focus on his feet, not wanting to fall behind. I take his lead and don't look back, the sounds of the guards and crack of gunshots swiftly fading into the howling of the wind across the tundra, and the stinging of snow at my cheeks.

My feet are completely numb, I feel only a dull pressure with each thudding step. As we travel, the snow becomes softer, less well packed, and we begin sinking knee deep. We stick to the occasional patches of earth and stone that rise up out of the snow as much as possible, but now and then we have no choice but to slow our steps and slog through the snow. 

As we struggle, I have more time to glance back, and I'm surprised that I can already barely see the compound. The constant, heavy wind is picking up the loose snow and dirt and swirling it through the air, creating a haze that will hopefully work in our favor. I can see the pale gleam of headlights, tiny in the distance, starting out from the compound. I can only hope our grey clothes do not stand out against the mottled snow.

"Adam."

Daniel's voice is hoarse, and as soon as he speaks his throat spasms and he begins to cough. His shoulders shake with the heaving coughs until he settles once more and glances up at me, eyes wide, but lips pressed together in determination.

I keep ploughing through the snow and keep my gaze away from his, trying not to see the stark fear there. "Yeah?"

"We gotta get shelter soon or we'll freeze."

"We're not far enough. They'll find us." I glance back again at those gleams of headlights. There's no way we're beyond their reach.

"There's a storm coming." Daniel gestures to the familiar roiling clouds. "They won't risk it. They think we'll die."

They might be right. I think it, but don't say it, keeping my face carefully blank. "We can't risk that they won't risk it."

Daniel's face cracks into a faint smile and he glances over at me. "We can push a little more. Then we'll find a snowbank and dig in. The storm will bury us. We should stay buried a few days, at least, keep warm, before we try to find a town."

I feel the small lumps of food I have hoarded, tied into my shirt. Stale bread, old apples. Not much, but we can survive on it. "All right. Agreed."

He nods, not wasting breath on more words, and we both keep pushing forward. The winds swirl around us, playing havoc with our ragged clothing, building with each passing moment into the storm we know is coming. The points of light vanish in the distance behind us, and I feel a tiny beam of hope breaking through my conviction that we would be caught, or killed.

I repeat a mantra over and over in my head as we walk.

We can make it.

We will not die today.

We will come back for the others.