The Burn (15 page)

Red carefully turns off what he calls the safety. He
makes a deliberate show of always pointing the gun away from me.
Then he brings the rifle up to his shoulder and wedges it tight
against the joint. He points to a sack full of holes hanging from a
tree.

“Cover your ears.”

I stuff my fingers in both ears and squint. I don’t
want to watch, but I know I have to. This lesson will never end if
I don’t pay attention.

The sound makes me jump. It sounds worse than the
thunder the night I slept outside the school. Red’s shoulder jars
back slightly, and I keep my eyes on the bag. It spins as another
hole pocks the fabric.

“Once you’re done, flip the safety again. Always
remember whether the safety is on or off. Always.”

I nod, my hands still against my ears. Red
laughs.

“You okay, Terra?”

I am still staring open-mouthed at the bag. He nudges
my shoulder.

“Uhh?” is all I can manage.

“You ready for your turn?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to touch that
thing.

“Now I know you’re nervous and heaven knows what’s
made you that way, but you’re going to learn if it’s the last thing
I do. If you come tomorrow, you’re learning, and that’s final.”

I lower my hands and nod. I reach for the gun. Red
places it in my hands and doesn’t let go until my fingers are
wrapped securely around it. He makes sure I’m not pointing it at
him. Or at me. He helps me raise it up against my shoulder.

“Now tuck it in there nice and tight. This girl’s got
some kick and you don’t want to have a bruised shoulder keeping you
home.”

I nod and hold the butt firmly against my shoulder. I
feel like I’ll dislocate my shoulder if I hold it there any
tighter.

“Now turn off the safety.”

With a click I turn it off. I feel like I have a
snake in my hands and if I let go, it’ll bite me.

“Now sight along the length of the barrel. Try for
the bag in the closest tree. Hold it steady, and when you’re ready,
ease on the trigger.”

I look down the long, dark shaft of metal at the bag
hanging in the tree. It is a hundred feet away. I gaze at it until
the sweat drips in my eyes. The bag hardly moves but it seems
impossible to hit.

Red clears his throat. “Any time now, Terra.”

How long have I been standing here? I can do this. I
am still alive after the past few days, and I can do anything. I
take one last look at the bag, then close my eyes.

The force of the shot knocks me backward and Red
scrambles away. As soon as I realize I’m not shot, I let go of the
gun and lie with my eyes shut, listening to my heart race.

“You okay?”

I see Red’s shadow through my red eyelids. I put my
hands over my face. My shoulder aches, but I nod.

“Then next time why don’t you try keeping your eyes
open?”

Next time? Surely there won’t be a next time?

“You can’t hope to hit anything if you don’t open
your eyes. Best as I can figure, that bullet made it all the way to
the Sound.”

I laugh then, and when Red realizes I’m not insane,
he joins in. “Maybe next time you could try a hand gun. A bit
easier to manage.”

A gun in any form will be torture, but easier to
manage would definitely be an improvement. I just hope I don’t have
to use it tomorrow.

Dave shakes me awake. I dreamed of guns and blood
last night. Guns that felt like ice in my hands; blood that dripped
from a ragged slash in a white arm. Waking up is a relief. The
corner of the heavy drape weaves in the breeze, and the air cools
my sweaty skin. Then I remember we are going to Seattle this
morning, and I’m not sure if I want to sleep or wake. There is a
coil of rope in my stomach that pulls tighter and tighter.

Breakfast is somber. Everyone looks at me. Everyone
looks at Mary, Dave, Red, and Sam, the other boy who agreed to
come. They look at us like they would a funeral procession. But
Nell holds Red’s hand and pats his whiskered cheek. Tears shine in
her eyes, but she smiles.

“Come back to me tomorrow,” she says. “I need help
with the candles.”

His lips brush hers, and he pulls her fiercely
against him.

“I’ll help you, Nellie girl. So don’t do it all
without me.”

She lingers in his arms and then pulls back. Nell
holds my hand and smiles, and I feel more lonely than I have since
I’ve been here. I feel like she’s trying to say goodbye and good
luck all at once.

The sky is still dark and we load into a sleek boat
painted the same gray color as the water. Most of the settlement is
on the rocky shore to see us off. They stand huddled up against the
water's edge. No one speaks. Jack stands a few feet apart and waves
once. A gun goes in for each of us, a pack of food, a gray blanket
too huge for one person. I don’t try to ask what it’s for. I sit
next to Mary, and I don’t want to look like I’m prying for secrets.
Whatever she may think, I am not one of “them.”

Sam starts the motor and the boat lurches out into
the sound. We need to get to Seattle before the sun bounces off the
water, before someone watching will see our boat. We huddle under
the blanket, and the blanket turns us the same color as the water.
Only Sam stands above the itchy cloth.

“It’s a little more than five miles across the
Sound,” Dave yells above the engine and the spray. “Get comfy,
it’ll take a little while.”

I shiver. The morning is wet and cold. I was getting
used to being so warm I sweated all the time here. Now I’m cold
again, and the cold sharpens my mind and sharpens the fear. I try
to think warm thoughts. I shove the blanket up tight around my
chin.

Red rubs his right arm. The tracker lump moves under
his fingers as he massages the skin.

“You get your tracker scanned to get supplies,” he
says. “So one of us always goes to a supply drop. We spread it out
as much as we can, so one person doesn’t get noticed.”

I nod. Even getting necessary medical supplies is a
dangerous job. Everyone goes back to looking straight ahead as the
skyline full of broken buildings like jagged teeth grows
imperceptibly larger. Their silhouettes brighten as the dawn pushes
forward.

Mary leans her head toward me. Her hair whips her
face so she can’t look at me. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

I shake my head. What is she talking about?

“I don’t know if I can trust you. I wish I could, but
I can’t. When you’re used to being beaten for not stealing enough
food, when you’re used to being locked up in a dark room all by
yourself and hearing the agents searching all around you, well.
Yeah, I don’t know if I can trust you. I’d like to. Dave obviously
does.” She looks at him, and her eyes change. They are so full of
longing I almost choke on it. Some of the softness lingers as she
holds her hair back with one hand and turns to me.

“Terra, I’m sorry for everything. Really. I just
can’t stand the thought of an outsider right now. Things are too
precarious. Too carefully balanced and then wham! You come along
and I’m afraid it’s all going to come crashing down.”

I want to put a hand on her arm. That’s what I would
have done for Jessa. For any friend. But I can’t with her. She
needs Dave to do it. But he won’t, either. Instead I say nothing
and stare straight ahead. The wind stings my eyes.

We reach Seattle just as the sun peaks behind a
building and the hazy beams glint off broken glass, splitting
shards of light into a hundred directions. It would be beautiful if
it weren’t skeletons of buildings that the sun shines on.

“Will we see anyone?” Dave asks. Mary shakes her
head.

“No, we shouldn’t. Not until we’re closer to the drop
site.” But she cranes her neck around anyway, scanning the streets
that finger out toward the water from between buildings. I see no
one.

An old, ruined pier floats crazily in front of us.
Sam navigates the boat underneath the pier and stops against a
wooden post closest to land. We knock against it a few times as he
throws a line around and secures us. I carry my gun above my head
like everyone else does. Sam stays with the boat, but the rest of
us jump into the waist-deep water. I clench my teeth. I will be
walking in these wet clothes all morning. I shiver and wade to
shore.

“Sam’s here until midnight,” Dave says. The others
nod. This is obviously the plan for every time they’ve done this.
Dave looks at me and his eyes cloud. I nod too. “At midnight he
leaves. If someone isn’t here, he leaves. So get here by
midnight.”

They tuck their guns into their waistbands under
their shirts. I do too. Red wears an empty pack on his back—the
biggest one we could scrounge up in the settlement. He leads the
way through the streets. Mary is close behind him, whispering
directions. Dave scans the streets, the rooftops, the windows in
buildings. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but it makes my skin
crawl and I start looking, too.

We walk through the ghost streets and see no one. A
rustle comes from a cross street and I whirl toward it, half
wrenching my gun out. But a cat slinks from a door swinging open
and closed and an empty can rolls out the door after it. My hand
trembles as I try to shove my gun back under my shirt. Dave touches
my arm to steady me.

“Calm down. It’s illegal to have guns. Keep it hidden
unless absolutely necessary. Especially when we get closer.”

We reach a wide swathe of concrete that stretches as
far as I can see north and south and looms below us like a moat.
Cars with smashed glass line the bottom. The crumbling remains of a
bridge jut out at our feet and from the other side of the road. An
old metal sign dangles on the edge of the bridge, a faded white
five on a blue insignia.

People gather on the other side, near a white brick
building with a peaked roof and tall chimney. Several men dressed
all in black and wearing helmets stand on the roof of the building.
They each hold a gun, and the guns are pointed at the crowd. Red
told me never to point my gun at someone unless I plan to shoot
them. I bounce on my toes, ready to flee back down the street we
came from.

But Red starts climbing down into the pit of cars.
Surely he can’t go down alone, not without help. Why aren’t Dave
and Mary following? I shove the rising panic back down my throat
and start toward him, but Mary grabs my arm.

“No, he goes by himself from here. None of us have
trackers. We’re illegal.” She pulls me behind an overgrown tree
that shields the three of us from those on the other side. I crouch
between two roots that raise canyons in the sidewalk.

Red shouldn’t be going down there. I can’t help
thinking he’s too old to be doing it. He’s too kind. And he has
Nell. Nell needs him. He’s too vulnerable down among the twisted
metal and broken glass. Those sharp things could pierce him. I
remember my dreams of blood. I squeeze my eyes closed and open them
again. A few men on the other side notice him, and they laugh.

“Hey, grandpa!” one calls. He has black hair and a
sickly pallor to his skin. His eyes are rimmed in dark circles. He
jabs a friend in the ribs. “Don’t you think you should just stay
down there with all the relics? We’ll get your supplies for you.
Safer that way, don’t you think? No one comes from that side of the
city unless I know about it.”

I bristle and the anger makes me brave for a single
second. The one with black hair sneers. I don’t like the hungry
look on his face. But Mary still holds my arm.

“Don’t say anything. They’re dangerous, all of them.
Red has done this before. This isn’t the part we have to worry
about.”

The guys jeer a little more, until a soldier comes
over and jabs the barrel of his rifle right in the chest of the
black-haired one. The sun glances off the soldier's visor, and I
can barely make out features. I wonder if he’s even human. I can’t
hear what the soldier says, but each one of the guys shows him
their right forearms. The soldier waves over a young woman dressed
in a suit. Her blond hair is pulled back so tightly at first I
think she’s bald. As soon as she appears, one of them tries to
disappear in the crowd, but another soldier standing by grabs him
and wrenches his left arm behind his back. The other soldier
squeezes his right forearm so tightly the skin bulges on either
side of his glove.

The woman waves a small machine over their arms. Each
one lights up a faint blue color, and she reads whatever
information displays on the screen. But the one who tried to
escape, his arm doesn’t glow blue. She swipes the machine over his
arm one more time. His face is ashen. Then she flicks two fingers,
and the soldiers throw him to the ground. One stomps a boot on his
face and grinds his cheek into the pavement. I can’t turn away. I
watch blood spurt out of his nose, and I can’t turn away.

The woman speaks, her face disinterested and not
looking at him, using a stylus on the screen of her little machine
that decides his fate. He tries to speak, but he can’t with the
boot pressed into his face. Then she nods and the soldiers drag him
up. The crowd parts as the soldiers take him to a truck outside the
mob of people. The guy’s head lolls on his shoulders. Everyone is
silent as they watch him go. As soon as he is inside the back of
the truck and the doors close, they resume. Like they were on pause
for three seconds and then real life starts again.

I turn to Dave. He’s pale, and his eyes flash with so
many emotions I couldn’t even begin to name them. Mary’s eyes are
stony. She’s lived among them. She’s probably seen this many times.
I look at her arm. She has a jagged scar that’s still pink and
puckered. She had a tracker too, and like Nell, she must have cut
hers out.

Getting hauled away is a risk we all take.

Red is up on the other side of the interstate now.
The man without a tracker created enough of a distraction that no
one else notices him arrive. He hovers on the edges of the
crowd.