Chapter Eleven

Treyton

I've never made a real decision in my entire life. I mean, the only type of decisions I've needed to make is whether or not to make my bed in the morning, but it's not like my choices have ever mattered. This is different. This decision will change everything, which is why I need it to be perfect. If I am going to keep Mom from being dragged down with my death, I have to go to the river and convince that pale-faced witch to spare her.

The only problem is, I don't know why the girl wants me to come. Maybe there will be a load of policewomen waiting, or maybe she will have a different killing weapon, or maybe she will shoot me from a distance as soon as I reveal myself. It's impossible to tell, and this fact alone makes me realize I'm not the best at planning. The chances of me convincing the girl are slim enough; I'm not sure how to face whatever else awaits me. What if I don't even get a chance to speak?

I head down to the river half an hour early, just to mentally prepare myself. This night is both colder and darker than yesterday, which is hopefully a coincidence and not an omen. I grind my knuckles against the dirt and rehearse my bargain through my mind. The girl can have anything she wants in exchange for Mom's safety. It doesn't matter if she wants to brutally torture me to death, so long as I can save Mom's life and pay off this eternal debt I owe her.

But as soon as the girl breaks through the trees, I hate myself for coming. My noble plan of risking my own life to protect Mom's suddenly doesn't feel so brave. It feels completely stupid; probably because it is. The girl has one gun pinched between her fingers, aiming directly at my head, and three more wedged into her tight jumpsuit. It looks like she's planning to take out the entire neighborhood.

I quickly scramble to my feet, but the words I've been rehearsing for hours stick to the inside of my throat. Somehow, I forgot how terrifying and helpless this position is. She could kill me any second now—she probably will. And it's going to hurt, and then I'll just be dead. And god, I do not want to be dead.

"I'm not going to shoot unless you make me,"she says.

"I'm not going to do anything,"I say. I force Mom's tear-stained face into my mind and remind myself why I can't back down. I'm already here, and she's depending on me. I have to do this.

"We're going across the river."

"Whatever you want,"I say. I open my mouth to add, as long as you don't kill my mom, but the words don't come.

"You go first."

So I do. I plunge into the icy water, almost relieved for the way it stings my skin. For just a second, I almost forget that I am being held at gunpoint and marched farther from Mom. I drag my feet through the mud and onto the dry river bank. The girl wades into the water moments later, but I keep my body facing the opposite direction. I don't want to look at her; I don't want to see her cold eyes anymore.

There's a sudden splashing, followed by an aggravated grunt. I turn slightly to see the girl crumbled onto her elbows with her legs trapped underwater. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, so unlike their usual sharpness. She looks vulnerable, afraid; and I realize that somewhere deep inside her, this girl has regular, human emotions. And if she has fear, maybe she has compassion, too.

I lean forward and despite her horrified expression, I pull her out of the river. She pitches onto the bank; and then, she shoots at me. I instantly drop my hand and cover my ears. Somehow, I end up with my back against a tree. But I'm not shot, at least, as far as I can tell.

The girl stares at me, and slowly, her eyes become hard once more.

"Don't touch me,"she growls.

She motions me to walk. I hesitantly move one foot in front of the other, forcing myself to walk a normal pace. She tried to shoot me. She really, truly tried to shoot me. And it is only now that I feel the full-blown likelihood of my death. This girl does not know mercy. She tried to shoot me after I helped her. Why would she even consider doing me a favor?

We walk for nearly a mile alongside the mountain ridge before the girl calls me to stop.

I zone into my surroundings and realize that I was not walking in a random direction like I previously thought. Rather, we now stand directly before my secret hideout that I found last year. It is a small cave with a five foot diameter and a roof only inches above my head. Moss and vines partially conceal the entryway, which is why I'm surprised the girl noticed it at all.

"Go in there,"she says, gesturing toward the concealed entrance.

I wedge myself through the vines and feel around the shoulder-height ledge. After a moment, my fingers bump against a tin matchbox, only halfway full after several visits. It's too dark to even see my hand, but I manage to light a match on its third try. The tiny match offers just enough light for me to find the cave's two candles. I dip the match onto each one, feeling slightly better when an orangish glow fills the room.

A sharp gasp comes from the entry. I turn to see the girl staring at the candles, then the matches, and finally at me.

"Are we in your burrow?"she asks. Her fingers clasp at the vines behind her, but her eyes curiously devour the cave.

And that's when I realize she has no idea where I live. She doesn't know that I have lived in my house for eighteen years, and she definitely doesn't know I'm the son of one of her neighbors. It was all a ruse, and I fell for it. I'm going to die for nothing.

"Yes,"I whisper. It's all I can manage now. This death will be even worse than I thought. Because now, I am dying for no reason. I feel bile lurching at the base of my throat, and I know it's only a matter of time before I puke.

I stumble back slightly and grab at the rocky wall.

"Don't make any sudden movements,"says the girl. "I will shoot you."

I don't know why she keeps saying that, as if there's any chance she won't shoot me. My insides stir again. This is all becoming too real, too unavoidable. The size of the cave seems to dwindle every time I blink. The walls are crowding against me, and soon, I'll have nowhere to stand but against the gun's barrel.

The girl rocks on her heels slightly. She shivers and water drips down her bare legs. She's probably freezing, and I should be too. But I can't feel anything at all.

"Do you have a name, Brute?"asks the girl. She lowers the gun, if only slightly.

My mind reels, trying to decide why she would possibly want to know. It could be a test, or a distraction, or a way to torture me later. I have no idea why she wants to know, but I'm afraid of what she'll do if I don't tell her.

Finally, I nod but don't say anything.

"Well, what is it?"she asks. When I don't respond, she puckers her mouth slightly. "Mine is Sahara."

I stand there with my teeth gritted together, trying to figure out her mind game. I should just lie about it, but I can't think straight. With all the names in the world, I can't think of a single fake name. The only ones my brain can manage is my own and Mom's.

"Fine."The girl jerks forward, hitching the gun back toward me.

Just like that, I lose it. Every sane thought I've held tonight vanishes. I start to cry because I'm not supposed to be here. The girl was bluffing, and I bought it, and now I'm going to die. I was trying to save Mom by sacrificing myself, but I'm only getting myself uselessly killed.

My vision blurs slightly and my stomach twists. Everywhere burns, almost as though my skin is being shredded with a blade. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground. Why can't she just let me go, pretend like nothing happened? My stomach jolts again, but this time worse than the others. I vomit across the dirt. Again and again, puking even after my stomach is empty.

"What's happening?"The girl's demand is barely audible over my retching.

I don't say anything. I just lean against my elbows and stare at my own puke.

"Please don't do it."My voice is a hoarse croak. Pathetic. Weak.

"Do what?"asks the girl. Her voice shakes, almost like she's the frightened one. After a long moment, she whispers, "I'm not going to hurt you."

My thoughts blur. I can't make sense of her words, yet I can almost feel the blood draining from my face. She is trying to trick me, to twist my thoughts and give me a false sense of security. She's going to manipulate my mind and then kill me. Slow and painful. I retch again.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I swear."The girl sounds sincere, but it's a trap. I know it is. "Look at me."

I shake my head slightly and remain hunched over. I don't want to see her.

"Here."The girl's voice rattles slightly. I hear something drop into the dirt; and when I lift my gaze, I see her gun lying less than a foot from me. It's closer to me than the girl, whose hands are raised slightly above her head. There are three more guns in her jumper, but it doesn't look like she's going to grab them.

"I should kill you,"says the girl. "But unless you attack me, I won't. I promise."

She slowly lowers to her knees. She's a yard from me, keeping her distance, but still leaning toward me. Her demeanor has changed entirely. Her face muscles are no longer tense and her eyes have softened. She doesn't look murderous, but almost torn. Almost like she pities me.

"I want to make a deal,"says the girl.

I nod, but then drop my head back down. That was supposed to be my line. I was supposed to take initiative, protect Mom, sacrifice myself. But now, I am weak and fully at her mercy.

"I have some questions,"she says. "If you promise to answer them, I won't hurt you."

I'm not sure what to make of her offer. I don't even know what she means by questions, but I don't want to waste time in asking. I just need to get out of here.

"Okay,"I nod. What's a few questions if it means saving my life?

"Tomorrow. Midnight."

"Okay,"I say again, though I'd rather get them over with now.

The girl leans forward and picks up her gun, quickly dropping it into the pocket of her jumper.

"Can you not bring the guns?"

"I'm not coming unprotected,"she says, but then sighs. "I'll only bring the stun gun."

I nod.

Without another word, she disappears through the vines.