The Divide (The Divide Series Book 1) (16 page)

“What was I supposed to do? Ask the ticket collector which key to use when I stole them from him?” he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“There are about a hundred different keys on that thing,” I yelled through the wind.

“Then shut up so I can concentrate,” he said through gritted teeth.

This was how I was going to die, because of Gregory’s stupid plan. If I lived through this, he would no longer make the plans. His plans were brainless. Dimwitted. Unintelligent. And obviously not thought out enough. I peered through the window again and wanted to scream. The men were almost there. They had just reached our compartment, and it would only take them a few more seconds until they got out here to us. I squeezed my eyes shut, chanting in my head,
Please lock the door, please lock the door, please lock the door!

“Got it!” Gregory yelled out. My eyes popped open and my heart started to slow down a little. Gregory stalked to the left side of the deck, and I followed him. He opened up the gate that kept the platform protected. “You’re going to jump first.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “It was your plan. Shouldn’t you jump first?”

Gregory scrubbed a hand over his face. “I need to make sure you jump, so you need to jump first. We don’t have all night.”

I swallowed and looked at the ground rushing past us. Pounding and yelling were coming from the other side of the door, and I knew we were out of time. Green grass covered the rushing ground; hopefully, there were no rocks or sharp items hidden in it. I looked up at Gregory. “Alright.”

Gregory positioned me to the ledge of the platform. “The train isn’t going too fast to really hurt us when we jump,” he said in my ear, causing goose bumps to travel down my body. Now was not the time for those. “When you jump, just make sure you protect your head. I’ll be right behind you.”

I nodded my head, and before I could think my way out of it, I jumped. The wind whipped around me as I flew through the air. I was in awe about how remarkable it was, but it didn’t last very long. One minute I was up in the air, and the next I crashed into the earth landing on hard on my right side, the ground knocking the wind out of me. My shoulder slammed roughly into the ground, pain zipping through my arm, and my hipbone smashed painfully in to a rock, and it felt like someone used a hammer on me to nail something in. Tears splashed from eyes. I couldn’t scream. I wanted to scream. I couldn’t catch my breath. It took me minutes, or maybe it was hours, before I could take a full deep breath in and let it out. I finally forced myself to sit up and cried out in pain. My shoulder and hip were the worst. It took me a few moments to get my breathing back under control while tears flowed freely down my face. Using my left hand, I inspected my hip to see if anything was broken—and after a good amount of prodding, I determined it wasn't broken, just awfully bruised. I then poked at my shoulder and whimpered. My shoulder wasn't broken, but it was dislocated. The only reason I was able to tell was because it wasn’t the first time my shoulder had been dislocated. I needed to put it back into place but couldn’t do it on my own.

I could hear grunts and looked over to see Gregory walking—more like limping—over to me. I stayed seated as I waited for him. Yeah, he was officially off the planning-making committee. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes raking over my body.

“Oh, you know, my right hipbone is seriously bruised, along with a dislocated shoulder. I’m sure I have bruises everywhere else too.” I was pissed at him. I was pissed at the men who were after us, if it wasn't for them we wouldn't have had to make the stupid plan.

He rolled his eyes at me, but his lips twitched in amusement. “Your right hipbone and right shoulder?”

I wanted to smack him, but I also didn’t want to move a muscle. Everything hurt. “Yeah. I need my duffel bag.” Gregory dropped my duffel but kept the weird, amused look on his face. I unzipped the bag and grabbed a shirt to wipe my face and use as a sling.

“Did you twirl in the air?”

I looked up, holding on to the clean shirt. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you twirl in the air?” His eyes were now flashing with amusement. Any second I was ready to tackle him to the ground and kick his lights out. Or I would have if I hadn’t been banged up and barely able to move without hurting. 

“Why would I twirl in the air?” I wiped off the dried tears and dirt from my face.

“We jumped from the left of the train, and the way you jumped from the train you should have landed on your left.”

“Oh.” I didn’t understand what the big deal was about. “Is it a big deal?”

“No,” he said. I could hear the laughter in his voice. I was ready to punt him. “It just would have made my day if I saw you twirl in the air.” Yup, I definitely wanted to hurt him.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Gregory had a smile on his face. Made me want to harm him even more. As I stared at his lips, I couldn't help but notice his awfully nice mouth; making me want to do damage. “The next time we have to jump off a train, I’ll make sure you see me twirl in the air.” I rolled my eyes and began making my shirt into a sling. I could hear his laughter, but I ignored it.

“What are you doing?” he asked after he was finished laughing. He crouched down next to me.

“I need to make a sling for my arm.” I looked over at him. “You’ll need to help me put my shoulder back into place.”

“I don’t know how,” he said, the humor gone from his voice.

“I do,” I said. I tore the shirt into one long piece.

“Right, because all you rich people go to school and learn these things,” he said bitterly.

I kept my eyes on my shirt. “No, because I’ve had my shoulders dislocated a few times, and Agathy had helped teach me how to put it back into place.”

I could feel his body stiffen next to me. “And how does one get their shoulder dislocated a few times?”

I kept my eyes on my shirt. “When someone who has a father who’s yanked her arm too rough and too fast.” I could feel the anger rippling off his body, which meant he probably put my bruised face and what I just said together.

“Mi—” he started to talk, but I interrupted him before he could start. I didn’t want to go down that road.

“Look, I need your help. My shoulder hurts. So please, just help me,” I said.

He was quiet for so long I finally looked up at him. He was angry. I raised an eyebrow. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he just shook his head. “Okay. What do I do?”

“I need you to lift my right arm away from my side,” I began as I lay down on the ground. Gregory sat next to me and lifted my right arm away from my side, and I gritted my teeth. “Now lift it up close to my head and act like it’s reaching for my other shoulder, and do it fast,” I said. I could hear him take a deep breath and let it go. I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. I’d done this before; I could do it again. He lifted my arm toward the other shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, and he moved fast, putting it back into place. I screamed from the pain and relief. A few tears escaped my closed eyes and fell slowly down my face. 

“What now?” he asked softly.

I opened my eyes to see him watching me. He moved his hands toward my face, and his rough, calloused fingers swiped at my tears. “I need you to tie the sling around my arm.” After he helped me with the sling, he helped me up from the ground. “Are you hurt? I saw you limping.” I asked, hating myself for just asking now.

“I hurt my ankle, but it’s getting better.” He zipped the duffel back shut and stood up. “We should get going.”

I nodded my head. “Where are we?”

“We were about two hours out from Inonia when we jumped from the train. So by walking distance, we’re about a day or two out.” He started moving forward next to the tracks. I followed him. This was going to be a long and painful walk.

We walked yesterday in silence, each caught up in our own thoughts. My thoughts kept going back to the men who were after me. It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing I could do about it. It also kept floating images of my parents: both hurt and healthy. Were they still alive? Were they scared? Did they miss me? And more important, if they were dead and these rebels were defeated, could I run the Lorburn? Did I have it in me to be a Leader? That was the scariest part: running Lorburn. I was only seventeen. I wasn’t old enough to run Lorburn. Once, I tried to run for a leader position in the Book Club at school, and I ended up with negative votes. There should have been no way I got negative votes; negative votes shouldn’t have been possible. And that was for a book club. Lorburn was a
whole
different situation, and I needed time to prepare. Even though my father chose Tyler to be his successor—after we were married—over me, I felt a little peace knowing I didn’t have to hold the weight of the Lorburn on my shoulders. I wasn’t strong enough for what the people needed. They needed someone who could naturally lead them, and that wasn’t me. I’d be the moron who kept stuttering and pronouncing words wrong when talking at a conference. I’d end up getting a panic attack and just rocking back and forth on the floor in the corner, crying. Could that have seemed a bit dramatic? Maybe. But could it also have been the truth? More than likely. I was weak. My father knew it, I knew it, and even Gregory knew it. But I had other things to worry about at the moment. Like walking toward a region that might be overrun with rebels ready to kill me. And I was beyond exhausted. Last night we’d ended up stopping and sleeping in shifts. I’d been restless: I’d wanted a bed, food, and water. We’d both decided to start walking early, so we started before the sun even kissed the sky.

The wind started picking up, cold air slapping across my face. I lowered my head as far into my jacket as I could, but I made sure I could still see the rolling dirt hills ahead. That’s all that was there in the middle of nowhere. Dirt, dirt, and more dirt. I officially missed the snow. It was cold out, but it wasn’t the cold that bothered me. It was the wind that kept picking up the dirt and flinging it into our eyes. I gave up on trying to use my hood as protection midway through yesterday. The wind kept swishing it back, and with only one arm able to move, I gave up fixing it after the tenth annoying time. So I was fairly certain dirt was caked in my ears because I no longer could hear sounds without a muffle to it. The only trees we came upon were so pathetic I wanted to cut them down to take them out of their misery. They had no leaves, and all the branches drooped to the ground. I think the trees wanted to lie down. The farther we walked, the worse the smell of manure became. I wasn’t sure if we were getting closer to Inonia or a cow farm. 

I looked over at Gregory. He had both hands deep inside his pants pockets, and he kept his focus on what was in front of us. He was walking faster, his ankle feeling better. My legs were much shorter than his, which meant I had to double my steps. I pointed this out yesterday, but he just rolled his eyes and continued on with his pace. I thought about complaining until he slowed down but then realized I didn’t have the energy to complain. My legs were sore from all the walking we did yesterday and so far today—not to mention the trip out of my house the day before. My arm throbbed each time I moved it on accident, and to top it off I’d woken with a migraine, and it seemed to slowly get worse, possibly because of the lack of food and water.

I wanted to stop walking and crawl into a bed and stuff my face with food. And possibly find a hot bath to soak in. But I knew it was very unlikely any of that would happen anytime soon. Looking down at my feet, I counted each shuffled step I took. Maybe that could occupy my time.
One. Two. Three. I want to hang myself from a tree. Four. Five. Six. Gregory can be suck a prick. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. I want to kill all the men.
Or at least those who destroyed my life. 

“We should be there soon,” Gregory said, breaking through my murderous thoughts. I looked up at him. He was standing ten feet in front of me, and had a smirk forming on his lips and I had a feeling I was going to want to punch him. There was only one reason he was smirking like that, and it probably had something to do with me.

“Okay,” I said, breathless and narrowing my eyes at the smirk that was turning into a full -blown smile. As I caught up to him, I had to crane my head all the way back. “Is there something amusing you?”

“Nope,” he said. “It’s just that you should see your hair right now.”

I narrowed my eyes and moved my moveable arm up to my hair. My hair was no longer in its ponytail; I could feel my hair everywhere and the knots in it. It was as stiff as a tumbleweed. Great. Just great. I tried to smooth it out, but my fingers were too cold to cooperate. 

“Here,” he said. His hands moved to my hair, his fingers gently untangling the knots. I knew I shouldn’t have him touching me like this, even if it was just my hair, but I couldn’t say anything. Biting my lip, I tried to keep in the moan that was dying to break free because of the way his hands worked my scalp. His eyes peeked at my lips, and I licked them nervously as he leaned in closer. I could feel the warmth of his breath as his grazed my ear. “All done.” He let go of my hair and straightened back up.