Defect (14 page)

Then I remember
during my morning run with Will, the sun was in front of me on the run into the woods, and it was on my back when we were headed back to the compound. I turn around until the sun is on my back, and for the first time I am confident I can do this. As long as I keep the sun on my back this morning, and make sure I’m facing into it by this afternoon, I’ll be going the right way. I recall Will making a comment about the sun being warm that morning, in the way it was coming down on us. At the time, I thought he was just making small talk – something I was never good at – but it turns out he was giving me a clue.

I tighten the straps on my backpack and begin an easy jog through the forest. After a few miles, I give my legs a break and
decide to walk instead. The drive out here with Kane took twenty minutes, according to the clock on his dash. But I knew we weren’t going in a straight line much of the time. Still, I knew I was several miles deep into the woods – probably ten miles or more. Again, I think of my day with Will – is that why he was so insistent we do ten miles, to make sure I was prepared?

After a few hours of walking, still nothing looks familiar, and though
quiet dread threatens to creep into my mind, I push the thoughts away. This has to be the right direction. Every few paces I look up at the sun, my travel companion, and keep going. I know this challenge is just as much mental as it is physical, and I won’t let it unnerve me.

I decide to sit down and rest my legs for a few minutes, and even though I’m not hungry yet, I decide to
eat some of the food from my backpack. If it gets taken from me, at least I won’t have left it fully stocked.

When I start walking again, the sun is high overhead
, and I start to second-guess which way I’m supposed to be going. Everything looks the same around me, and somehow I’m not even sure of the direction I just came from. I’m stopped, looking up at the sun, when I hear voices far off. I run for cover and crouch beside a fallen log. The voices get closer, and I peek up to see two guys jogging through the woods. It’s Drew and Bryce who would no doubt beat me for fun, let alone under direct orders to get my supplies. I crouch down lower, praying they won’t spot me. Somehow they pass within fifteen feet of me without seeing me. They are heading in the opposite direction I’ve been going and my stomach lurches. Have I been going the wrong way this entire time? I close my eyes and concentrate on the run with Will once again and I’m able to calm myself. This has got to be right. I don’t know why they’re going the other way, but I’ve got to trust myself. I keep going, alternating between jogging and walking for the next few hours.

I reach a clearing that’s fenced in, like a fence you’d have around an
animal pen. It’s quiet, too quiet. The only sounds I hear are my own heartbeat, my own breathing. I don’t see much of anything inside the pen, just an old tire, and some piles of straw and twigs, but I don’t like the looks of this. I take a step back from the pen, deciding to go around the side of it. Something about a pen in the middle of nowhere feels wrong, and I want to be away from it.

I begin walking along the fence
, and I can see a mound of animal bones inside. I don’t want to know what’s been living in there. I take another step, when I hear the gate click, and the door to the pen swings open with a groan. Almost as if on cue, a wolf appears. It locks black eyes on mine and studies me from inside the pen. My knees begin to tremble and feel like they’ll buckle underneath me if I try to run. I try to think through what I know about wolves, but come up blank.

This one is shaggy gray and too thin,
its ribs visible. It’s hungry. Whoever kept it here ensured that. Its snarl rips through my chest, evoking a fear unlike any I’ve ever known. My eyes sting, my breathing much too quick. “Nice wolf.”

I wonder if I can make it to the gate before it does. I inch one foot closer. The wolf’s head cocks to the side to watch me, but it stays put in the center of the pen. I slid
e the backpack off my back and unzip it, keeping my eyes locked on the wolf’s. I reach into the bag and find the pancake I saved this morning. My fingers are shaking as I pull it from the bag. The wolf takes a few steps forward, watching me with interest. Suddenly, its lips pull back in a low growl. I can see its teeth.

I take another step closer to the pen, doing my best to judge the distance
, and fling the pancake over the fence. It lands with a soft thud in the dirt. The wolf walks forward to inspect it, and I spring for the gate, hoping to close it in time. My sudden movement fixes the wolf’s attention back on me. The pancake did nothing to distract it. It lays cold and uneaten in the dust. I’m still a few feet away from the gate, locked in a staring contest with the wolf.

It
jogs toward me, and I forget all about closing the gate. My fingers fumble for the knife at my waistband, just as the wolf lunges for me. It’s much bigger up close and its musky smell fills my nostrils. I’m knocked on my back, pinned underneath it. The force of the hit almost makes me lose my grip on the knife, but I curl my fingers around it and manage to hang on. The wolf snaps its jaws in my face and I turn my head, trying to wiggle my way free. Without hesitating, I plunge the blade deep into the wolf’s side. Its flesh gives easier than I expected, and I pull the knife out and stab it again and again, until I feel warmth on my hand and the wolf collapses on top of me.

I scramble from under
its lifeless body and kneel next to it. I watch the dark stain grow around us, but I still don’t move. It takes several minutes for my heart to stop pounding and when it does, I realize I’m crying. My cheeks stream with tears, and I let them come. When the gravity of what I’ve done hits me, I lurch to the side on my hands and knees and get sick. I cough and cough until there’s nothing left in me.

I sit beside the wolf a long time, until I notice that I’m cold and realize I
need to keep moving. I pull myself to standing and notice that the sky looks different. The late afternoon sunlight is beginning to fade. In a few hours, it will be dark. I wipe the tears from my face, and notice that I sliced my hand open when I fell back with the knife. And though I didn’t feel the pain before, it now stings. There’s a long slice running across the center of my palm. With my good hand, I pull my water bottle from my bag, and though I hardly have any to spare, I rinse the dirt, fur and blood from the cut.

After I let it air dry
, I unwind some of the tape from around my stomach and wrap my hand, doing my best to close the wound.

I need to keep moving. Though I’m physically and emotionally drained, I make myself walk – facing into the setting sun. After a little while, the numbness of what I did to the wolf has worn off
, and I notice that my throat is scratchy, and my stomach feels empty, but I don’t let myself stop yet. The thought of food tonight is the only thing I have to look forward to, and if I give into my hunger now … no. I shake my head. I have to keep going.

My hand throbs, but soon something else catches my att
ention. I hear a loud crashing through the woods. I duck behind a tree, and with the fading light, it’s enough to hide me. I carefully peek around the tree, keeping my cheek pressed to the rough bark. Up ahead, I see Lexi come into view. She’s stumbling through the woods, tripping over branches. She’s holding her arm, and I hear her sniffling. I stay hidden, barely breathing, as I watch her. Once it’s clear she’s in no shape to fight me, I step out from behind the tree.

“Hi, Lexi.”

She startles at my voice and whips around to face me. Her cheeks freely stream with tears. She wipes them away with the back of her hand. “Wh … What do you want?”

For once, the tables are turned, and I’m the one in control. “Are you okay?” I study her, an
d now that we’re closer, I can see she’s holding her arm at an odd angle and her clothes are torn. “What happened?”

“There was a fox in a cage, and
when I got close the door popped open like it was rigged. The little bastard tore my arm to shreds before I got it off me.”

She had a fox, I had a wolf.
Who were the sick bastards that dreamed up these
obstacles
? While I’d always believed the government provided protection, ensuring safety for a peaceful society, I was starting to see that wasn’t all they did.

“Let me s
ee your arm.” I move closer and she flinches, like she’s scared of me. I reach for her arm. This time she lets me take it. I turn it over, inspecting it. The skin’s shredded, but the wounds don’t seem all that deep. No worse than the gash in my hand. I use the rest of my tape and close up the wound, securing the tape right over the top of what’s left of her shirt sleeve.

When I finish, she looks at me with softness in her eyes I
haven’t seen before. “Thanks.”

I nod
and set off in the direction I was headed before I found her.

“
Eve, wait,” she calls.

I turn back toward her.

“Will you … stay with me tonight? We could make a camp together.” She’s looking at my backpack when she says this.

I consider it for
half a second, but hear myself say, “No. We all have to learn to fend for ourselves.” Maybe that makes me cruel, or maybe it’s what they’ve turned me in to, but without waiting for a response, I turn and jog away, deeper into the forest, toward what I hope is the compound.

Once I can’t make m
y legs walk any farther, I look for a spot to set up my camp in the moonlight. I choose a grassy spot that’s blocked on three sides by trees. I spread out the tarp on the ground and sit facing the opening created by the trees. I take everything from my backpack and line it up. I drink most of the water, but make myself stop to save some for tomorrow.

I
lay out all the food I have left. Two slices of bread, which are now little more than crumbs from tumbling around inside my pocket all day. I jam the bread into my mouth and swallow without even chewing. I also have two more pancakes and an apple. I eat both of the pancakes, since I’m not sure they’ll last as well as the apple, but they’re so dry, I have to drink more of the water just to get them down.

Once my stomach is filled,
I settle back on the tarp, but I know sleep will be impossible. The moonlit sky is beautiful, and the stars shine brightly. I remind myself it could be worse; it could be cloudy, raining, or I could be badly hurt. I lean my head back against a tree and close my eyes, trying to relax my body.

I hear a twig snap
in the distance, and my heart jumps. I listen intently, my breathing shallow, straining to hear if someone or something is out there.

I hear more rustling
. It’s closer this time. My eyes stay trained to the spot I heard the sound, but it’s too dark to see anything. If I just stay quiet, whoever or whatever is out there won’t hear me. If only my heart would stop thundering against my chest. I reach for the knife that’s tucked inside my waistband and hold it beside me.

There is definitely someone
coming toward me. I can see his silhouette moving closer. It’s almost like he can see in the dark, see right to where I’m crouched. He doesn’t slow as he crosses the uneven ground, and easily navigates branches that reach out to trip him.

I grip the knife tighter, and quietly, slowly, raise myself to standing. Then I wait for him to come.

I slash out toward him with the knife, but before I make contact, he catches my arm and holds it. 

“Whoa, easy, it’s just me,” Will says. After he’s sure I won’t try to stab him, he lowers my arm.

I’
m trembling, shaking all over at what I almost did, so naturally, with hardly a second thought. I almost stabbed another person – and Will, at that.

“You okay?” He
takes my arms to steady me, and my fingers open, dropping the knife to the ground.

“
No, I’m not okay. I almost stabbed you!”

He regards me with a look of amusement. “But you didn’t. I’m fine, see.” He holds his arms out to his sides and turns around
slowly. He stops to face me again. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just … didn’t know that was possible,” he says with a look of disbelief on his face. He drops his backpack to the ground beside my feet and sits down.

“What are you doing here?” I stand above him, still too keyed up from his stealthy entrance to relax.

“I have night duty.”

I look him over in his uniform and decide he’s telling the truth. “How’
d you find me?”

He reaches for my hand and lets his fingers run up the soft underside of my wrist.
It sends a chill up my arm, then down my entire body. “This.”

“You tracked me?”

He laughs. It’s a light, yet throaty sound. I’m certain I’ve never heard him laugh before. “That’s what this test is, Eve. O’Donovan and La Rusa sit around and monitor your progress. I went in the control room to watch the monitors just to see where Kane had taken you – and just like I thought, he dropped you off the farthest. Twelve miles out.”

I
can picture them sitting in a room watching a blinking dot labeled 5491, having a good laugh at my slow progress.