Evolution (14 page)

But Apollon sighs, climbs to his feet, and kicks snow onto
the fire.  "Alright," he says.  "You don't have to
look so miserable."

I grin at him and help put out the fire.

Before we make off, he grabs handfuls of pine needles and
stuffs them in his pockets.  "Who knows if we'll have them later
on."

I scrape sections of sticky bark from a nearby tree—it
performed even better than the pine needles in my experiments—and load up my
pockets as well.  We don't have much to work with, so we may as well make
the most of what's available.  We start off, trudging through the snow,
and though I'm tired, stressed, and hungry, it seems easier than before. 
We've no heavy packs to carry, and though I'm longing for Jonas, his presence
was also a heavy burden.  As we set out on our journey without him, the
distance between us and the tower seems far less daunting than it did before.

The first night was the hardest.  No blankets.  An
icy wind that constantly blew away the heat of the fire.  We had to get
creative with our shelter-building, and still, we shivered straight through the
night, worrying that we might not make it until daylight.  The second
night was uncomfortable, but better.  We've been walking for three days,
now, without much to eat, but Apollon and I are pretty used to that. 
We've managed to forage a bit—a few handfuls of cranberries, and some grass
seed, which tasted like... well... grass.  Apollon assured me that this
particular grass seed wouldn't kill me, but the lingering doubt made it hard to
choke down.  It's evening again, and we've found a small cave to shelter
in.  Better than that, we've got a nice fire going and a handful of tubers
to roast.  Our spirits are good—bolstered by the thought of rest and food—but
the day has already been pleasant because we get along well.  Still. 
Despite everything.  Without the others, we're talking and laughing. 
Enjoying the strangeness of the landscape.  Marveling over the things
we've never seen before.  It feels odd and out of place that we’re lost in
the wilderness and simultaneously enjoying ourselves.  And to be sure, the
fear of our situation is still there, lying underneath the surface.  But
we push it away, determined to survive, and focus on the things that will keep
us going.  For me, it’s companionship.  Gratefulness for my
friend.  I relish the chatter, and the occasional stretches of comfortable
silence in between.  Every time I think the wilderness is too vast, too
wide, Apollon has some quote from some book, perfectly relevant, bolstering my
spirits.  We avoid talking about recent history.  All those questions
go unanswered.  He chats about the stories he's read, and I pummel him
with a thousand questions.  He answers them as best he can.  Some of
the time, I think he makes the answers up.

Now, at the end of the day, you'd think we'd be tired of
talking, but we sit across the fire, bantering, chuckling as we turn our tubers
slowly on sticks.  The smell coming off of them is mouthwatering—nothing
like grass—and inside I feel like I've let out some long-held-in sigh. 
That's when it dawns on me.  I'm happier than I've been in a long
time.  I glance up through the flames at Apollon's face.  He's
chattering on, oblivious to me.  Just animate and easy and real.  He
breaks off, frowning, as his tuber catches fire, retracts his stick and blows
hard on his food.  The flames flap and disappear.  He sniffs the
tuber.  "Mmm," he says, closing his eyes as the smell hits
him.  He bites into it, then jerks backward, his hand flying to his mouth,
where he catches the quickly ejected bite.  "Holy crap!" 
His words are muffled through his fingers.  "I just burnt the shit
out of my tongue!"

I'm holding my belly laughing and rolling sideways on the
cave floor.  I try to keep myself upright with my one elbow, but I just
can't seem to stop laughing.  I suddenly notice that I've dipped my own
tuber into the flame line.  "Arg!" I jerk it out and mimic
Apollon's flame-quenching routine, but wisely, I don't bite into it yet.  I
take a few deep breaths to steady myself and throw him a look.  "You
made my potato-thing catch on fire, you big oaf."

"Ha!" he says.  "That's what you get for
laughing at my distress."

But that just makes me start laughing again.  And even
though he tries to scowl at me, pretty soon he's laughing, too.  It takes
a long time before our giggles die down.

"I think we might be cracking up," he finally
manages as he starts in on his tuber, carefully this time.  "Lack of
food.  Exhaustion.  I just don't remember you being this funny."

"Maybe it's the grass," I suggest.

He counters with "Grass doesn't make you funnier."

We snicker between bites.

"It's not the food," I finally say, trying to be
serious.  "I get grumpy when I'm starving."

"Me too."

For the briefest moment my mind touches a time not too long
ago, when we were both truly in danger of starvation.  The darkness and
confusion of that time seems so far away from this place, where I feel
strangely safe and free.  But the memory is enough to sober me for
real.  Apollon must be feeling the same, because he shakes himself before
he smiles at me.  The smile is much more subdued than it has been.

I take another bite of my tuber, savoring it because I know
it will be gone too quickly.

"We need to hunt something," Apollon says, his
voice also coming down to reality.  "Something big.  And
juicy."

"I would settle for something small and juicy," I
say.  "But good luck with that.  We don't have a gun."

He squints at me for a moment, then says, "We have
knives."

I consider the possibility of getting close enough to
something to stick it with a knife.  We've seen a couple of small animals
and even a deer, but they've run away upon our attempts to approach. 
"I don't think we're going to kill anything," I say.  "So we
better forage what we can."

"We just need some luck," Apollon insists, perhaps
spurred onward by his growling stomach.  "You can do it.  I know
you can."

"Me?" I scoff.  "What about you?"

"I can't really throw a knife.  I mean, I'm not
very accurate."

I stare at him.  I hadn't considered throwing. 
Probably because I'd sooner hit the moon than something five feet in front of
me.  I start to shake my head.

"You know how to throw," Apollon presses. 
"I've seen you."

Now I squint at him.

"On the road," he says.  "You nailed
that car right in the windshield.  And it was a solid throw, or it never
would have broken."

Wide-eyed, I stare into the fire.  Maybe I do know how
to throw a knife.  Maybe, in some subconscious area of my mind.  But
could I do it at will?  Or was it all just some freak coincidence?  I
stare into the coals for a long time, then I say, "I don't know. 
Maybe I just got lucky."

He shrugs.  "Maybe."  But I haven't
convinced him of anything.

I finish eating my tuber in silence, considering the
ramifications.  Is knife-throwing a common skill?  What does that
mean about me, about my past, if it
is
some hidden facet of my old life?

Of course, thinking about my old life inevitably leads in
one direction.  "You're not worried about Jonas at all?" I ask,
needing to say something before I get lost in those thoughts.  "Not
even a little bit?"

"Nah," Apollon answers, a bit too quickly.  I
meet his eyes.  He offers a sheepish smile.  "I'm worried about
Jacob and Taylor, though.  Jonas wasn't very happy about going on a hike
with them.  What do you think their odds of survival are without us there
to protect them?"

I consider.  "...Maybe half?"

Apollon laughs.  "Clearly you don't realize how
volatile Jonas has been lately."

My face falls.  I look into the fire.

"Aw," Apollon says, "don't feel bad."

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask.  "It's my
fault, right?"

"I really don't think it has much to do with you,"
he says.  "He's just taking it out on you is all."

Now I look up at him.

"Maybe indirectly," he amends.  "I think
all the changes have him thinking about things is all.  You know. 
Other things."

As always, Apollon seems reluctant and subdued when
referencing Jonas' past.

"You saw how he was the other night," he
continues.  "When the Sentries attacked.  I told you he's been
like that before.  That doesn't have anything to do with you. 
See."

"Sure," I say, but the word comes out so pitifully
that there's no way he can't see through it.

He heaves a sigh and shifts his weight.  "Just be
patient with him, Eden.  He'll come around.  Eventually."

"I suppose you've known him a long time," I say,
wanting to lead myself away from these thoughts.  I grab onto the first
thing I think of to distract myself.  "How did you guys meet,
anyway?"

"Running for our lives," he says, with a little
laugh.

Now I'm curious.  I raise my eyebrows and wait.

Apollon only hesitates briefly.  "We were both
dropped the same day.  In Outpost One.  Different drop zones,
though.  You know how it is.  You wake up totally confused.  Not
knowing where you are, or why you're there.  Instinct kicks in. 
Fear."

I nod quietly, remembering the day I woke up in Outpost
Three.  Hiding in a pile of trash.  Disguising myself as a poxy old
woman.

"One is way worse than Three," Apollon
continues.  "There are two groups of slavers there, and they're
majorly competitive.  They're on the drop zones like nothing.  So
practically the moment I woke up, I was running from them."  He
pauses, his eyes wide, like he's somewhere else, then shakes his head and
continues.  "I was running one way, and meanwhile, Jonas was running
the other way.  Same deal.  So I come around a corner and see him
running toward me.  He's wearing the brown shift, too, and by then my
world memories have opened, so I recognize what's going on.  We look at
each other.  We look past each other.  And both ways, all these guys
are on our heels.  'C'mon', he says, and we take the side route.  And
from that moment, we're a team."

"...Wow."  I can't help but feel a little
twinge of jealousy when I remember how incredibly lonely my first days were. 
I push it away.  "How did you escape?"

"Rooftop," he says.  "We got around a
corner, he gave me a boost, and I pulled him up.  It was tall. 
Neither of us would ever have got up there on our own.  Then we laid flat
and stayed quiet while all the slavers ran by.  And we stayed on those
damned rooftops pretty much until we got out of Outpost One."

"Wow," I say again.  "How long did it
take you to get out?"

"Something like a month," he laughs.

"And you were on the rooftops that whole time?"

He nods.

"What did you eat?"

Now a grin breaks across his face.  "Something
that rhymes with rats," he says, and reaches across with his tuber stick
to poke me.

I laugh and push it away.  "Hey, it's readily
available protein," I say.  "I have yet to eat cat,
though.  I don't know if I could do it.  They're awful cute."

"Cute and juicy," Apollon declares.  "If
I gave you a cat right now, I bet you'd eat it."

"Depends on the cat," I say.  "If it was
a nice one, I might consider making you into discount sausage first."

"A lot of people have wanted to make me into discount
sausage, and it hasn't happened yet," he says haughtily, eyes half
closed.  He looks a bit like a cat.

"That's because Jonas has always been there to watch
your back," I counter.  Before I can make more humor out of my
threat, I find myself heaving a big sigh.

Apollon studies me thoughtfully.

I pick up my tuber stick and thrust the end into the fire,
watching it ignite.

"You miss him."

I open my mouth to deny it, but then, before I can, I'm
wondering what's the point.  Apollon has a pretty good idea that I have a
thing for Jonas.  He just doesn't understand the extent of it.  The
complications.  And he
is
Jonas' closest friend.  Maybe coming
clean with him will make things somehow easier.  If nothing else, I can
unburden myself for one moment.  Of course, it's not really that simple,
because, even though I want to talk about Jonas, I'm not ready to say anything
about the important part—the part that binds us together long before either of
us woke up with marks on our foreheads.

So I nod and quietly say, "I do.  I miss
him."  But I know that whatever I tell Apollon, it will only be half
of the truth.

"Yeah?"  He’s giving me an opening if I want
it.

"I miss him.  Not just since the
storm."  My words coming freely as soon as I allow them. 
"Since everything.  He's felt so far away.  And... and we were
close.  Kind of.  In a way, I mean."  I feel myself
coloring red, because I know, really, that I don't know Jonas that well. 
I push on, quickly.  "He kissed me," I say. 
"Once.  It was right before....  Right before...." My
throat closes on the word, and when it comes out, it's only a harsh
squeak.  "Oscar."  I swallow.  Twice.  Blink away
tears.  I look away and continue blinking until the tears dissipate. 
"Everything was just so messed up."

Apollon has gone quiet, and when I look at him, he's staring
down into his lap.  I shouldn't have brought up Oscar.  Apollon loved
him, too.  Maybe even more than I did.  Longer than I did, at least.

He clears his throat and finds my face.  "It's
probably better, Eden," he says.  "...I don't want to intrude in
whatever, but I feel like I should tell you.  You're my friend.  I
don't want you to get hurt."

My eyes scan his.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean...."  He hesitates.  "I
mean Jonas.  I get why you like him.  I mean, obviously, he's my
friend, too.  He's great.  But... you really don't want to get mixed
up with him.  Don't let yourself fall for him, I mean.  Nothing good
could come of it.  He'll break your heart."

I stare at him open-mouthed, the flames of the fire
flickering between us.  I don't know what to say.  I start to shake
my head uncertainly.

"Really," he says, his voice suddenly
steady.  "Just don't, OK?  Promise me."

"Promise you?" I sputter.

Now he laughs.  "Promise me," he says
again.  Then he revises.  "Try."

I shake my head slowly, laughing, feeling suddenly weird and
dizzy.  What does he mean that Jonas will break my heart?  When it
comes down to it, he knows Jonas so much better than I do.  Shouldn't I
trust his judgment?  I want to ask more, but before I can, he moves on.

"What about Matt?" he says, as if this is
perfectly acceptable conversation.  As if a lot of things that happened
never actually happened.  I can hardly believe he’s said it.