Evolution (18 page)

Jacob mutters under his breath and goes off to gather some
firewood.  His brother trails behind him.

Apollon starts building a wall opposite me, to cover the
other side of the fire.  We place the walls far enough away that the heat
from the fire won’t be a problem.  Jonas watches a second, then starts
helping.

It doesn't take very long to get the whole thing set
up.  Soon, a fire is blazing in the center of our campsite, though we keep
it small.  It's enough to warm some water and replenish our body heat, but
even as I squat beside it, I don't feel very warm.  I glance at Jonas,
turned away from me, and realize that I'm disappointed.  I'm not sure what
I expected from him at our reunion—maybe forgiveness?  Perhaps not, but at
least relief.  I could hear the strain in his voice when he asked Apollon
if I was with him.  He was worried about me.  Admittedly, there was
no time to talk because we were busy hiding from Sentries, but even so,
shouldn't the talking have come later?  We've told our stupid story about
being chased by everything, but I have a feeling he didn't want to hear
it.  And there's nothing back from him.  Just silence and
brooding.  I feel dismissed.  There has been no reunion.

When it's time to go to sleep, the sleeping arrangements are
the same as they were before we got separated.  This surprises me, and it
also makes me uncomfortable.  Apollon and I glance at each other sidelong
as I prepare to slip into my pack with Jonas.  It's not that there's
anything between us, but I'm used to curling up beside Apollon now.  That
place felt safe and happy.  Apollon and I have become a team.  I
don't like the separation.  I don't like reverting.

Nonetheless, my heart still jumps as Jonas slides under the
blanket beside me.  His arm around me brings a thousand warm memories,
making me miss him all the more.  With our bodies right next to each
other, I should feel closer to him.  But it only makes me aware of how far
away he really is.

He presses his nose into the nape of my neck.  His
breath is warm, but it makes a shiver crawl through me.  I force myself to
relax.

"You smell like an animal," he mumbles.  His
voice is always so rich and soft, no matter how biting his words.

I reach under the hem of my coat and pull out a wad of
fur.  I'm used to it now, and when it's extra cold out, I'm thankful to
smell like an animal.  I toss the fur up over my shoulder and into his
face.  "At least
I
have an excuse for it."  My voice
sounds colder than the snow.

He snorts softly, probably trying to push fur out of his
nostrils.  His arm goes up to grab the fur away.  I expect him to
toss it.  Instead, his fingers find the bottom hem of my coat and reach up
underneath.  He slips the fur back into place, tucking gently.  The
brush of his fingers makes my stomach muscles contract.  I can't
breathe.  Not until he removes his hand, pats my coat into place, and
replaces his arm over my side.  A few seconds pass.  Then I remember
that I need air.  I make myself breathe in, trying to keep it slow and
steady, but I feel like I'm suffocating.  Jonas' arm pulls me
closer.  I close my eyes and focus on regulating my breath.  For a
long time I can only register the sensations within my own body.  Then I
suddenly notice how stiff and controlled his own breath is, falling on my neck
evenly, but not softly enough to be natural.  Despite everything, in that
moment I feel close to him.  I feel that we haven't really lost each
other.  A little sigh—shuddering in and then out, like the kind that comes
at the end of a long cry—makes its way out of my chest.  My body
relaxes.  And then I'm drifting in happy sleepiness.

We eat a breakfast of nuts and more dried meat.  It
takes a lot of chewing.  Maybe that's why we're so quiet, but maybe
not.  No one speaks until we're packing everything up to go.  Then
it's me and Apollon, chattering about what we might find when we get to the
city.

"Do we have a plan for when we get there?" Apollon
throws out.  "Or are we just winging it?"

"We have to get to the tower as soon as possible."
I stuff my tin cup into my pack.  "It's been a long time.  We
can't waste any more."

Jonas glances at Jacob and Taylor, then snorts, slinging his
pack up onto his shoulders.  "Not like we're going to find anything
there.  Outpost Three is on its own."

I stop what I'm doing and give him a look.

"You shouldn't get your hopes up, Eden," he says,
brow furrowing.  He's trying to backpedal ever-so-slightly from his
disparaging comment.  "You remember what Miranda said.  They
built a tower in every city.  What are the chances that this is the right
one?  What are the chances that
any
of them will hold the key to
destroying all the Sentries?  I mean, what do you expect to find?  An
off button?"

I pick up my pack, tighten its straps, and start
walking.  I'm not giving him an answer.  Jonas' criticism has shaken
me far more than it should have.  Maybe because he's right.  There is
no logical reason to believe that we will find anything at this tower. 
It's a shot in the dark, and nothing more.  A desperate search for
something that might help.  Even Matt must have known this—a realization
that comes to me for the first time.  So, did he send me away to save the
Outpost, or was it to save me?  Sudden longing for Matt comes with the
question.  I want to ask him, want to find out.  I wade in memories
of him, and for the first time, I really want to know him more.  Awareness
of my feelings sinks in.  It jars me, but I don't push it away.  I
let its heaviness consume me.  I miss him.

What I push away is the thought that he may no longer exist.

The city is still very far away.  We might not make it
in one day.  I'm in awe at how big it must be to cast that kind of glow in
the sky from such a distance.  We walk well into the afternoon before we
stop to eat.

"Maybe we should camp here," Taylor suggests, even
though there is still daylight to walk by.  "We don't want to get to
the city at night.  And we don't want to camp too close.  If we stop
here, we can probably get in by late morning."

It makes sense.  I don't like the idea of waiting until
tomorrow, but it would probably be best.  "Yeah," I agree. 
"Let's do that.  We can get some good rest.  Tomorrow will be a
big day."  I can't help but glance off in the direction of the city,
wondering about the tower.  Logical thoughts and desperate hopes aside,
there is something ingrained in me that demands to get there.  I don't
know how I've remained so patient for so long.  My insides are running
wild, a rush of blood and adrenaline.  I feel dizzy, and restless, and
sick to my stomach.  I make myself breathe and focus on building a snow
wall for the campfire.  Apollon helps, but I don't talk to him.  I'm
too busy focusing on the work.  Doing something with my hands helps. 
I can put myself into the effort.

Jonas unpacks our things and gathers a layer of brush to
line the campsite.  We start a small fire and Jacob and Taylor head off to
find more fuel for later.  There's nothing left to do.  I feel like
running again.  I pace for a moment, arms crossed, staring at the fire. 
Apollon makes himself comfortable, sitting on his bedroll.  I cast around
for something to busy myself, find nothing, then go to sit with him.  I
lean against him, and he puts his arm around me.

He leans closer and whispers softly, "Doing OK?"

I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder.  "Just
tired," I mutter.

He laughs softly.  He doesn't believe me for a
second.  "Don't worry," he murmurs, squeezing gently. 
"We'll find your tower."

"Shall I go away and give you two some privacy?"
Jonas asks suddenly from across the campfire.

I open my eyes and look at him.

"I imagine you miss your alone time," he
continues.  "I can go and collect some more firewood.  Maybe
there'll be a blizzard."  For all his talk about going away, he
doesn't move.

I'm pissed.  I'm about to tell him he
should
 go away and get lost in a blizzard, but Apollon stands and moves away
from me.  My eyes follow him as he goes.

Apollon leans against the trunk of a nearby tree, crossing
his arms.  His eyes are narrowed on Jonas.  He's pissed, too. 
"For god sakes," he says, "quit being an ass.  She didn't
sleep with me, OK?  And it's not like I didn't try to talk her into
it."

My voice has evaporated.  In all the time Apollon and I
were alone in the wilderness, sleeping curled up together, he didn't so much as
make one half-hearted pass at me.  I consider that evidence of the true
bond of our friendship.  We're way beyond that.  We've really become
family.  My eyes fly to Jonas to see what he'll make of Apollon's
jab.  But he's already walking away.

Silence descends over our campsite as we watch him go. 
I stare into the fire and recall Apollon's warning.  Don't fall for
Jonas.  He'll break my heart.

Problem is, I fell for him a long time ago.  How do you
unfall for someone?  Is there any hope?  I don't even know where my
emotions are coming from.  Do I really feel this way about him?  Or
is that Lily?  And when Lily loved him—when she loved Jason—was he
anything like this?  Eden and Jonas could be worlds away from Jason and
Lily.  That's the sad, cold fact.  Can I let myself be ruled by
emotions that may have no bearing on what really exists?  Is that what's
happening to him, too?  I stare and stare into the fire, wanting
desperately to erase myself for good.  To just be me.  To just be
Eden. 
I'm sorry, Lily
, I think. 
You don't belong here
.

Apollon sits back down—on one of the other packs this
time—but remains quiet.  He stares into the fire, too.  We don't need
to talk about this or sort this out.  We're OK with the silence.

Jacob and Taylor come back with loads of firewood, but we
only put on a couple of branches at a time.  The last thing we need now is
for some Sentries to notice us.  We're close enough to the city to know we
need to be careful, even if the other Sentries hadn't chased us.

After a while, Jonas comes back, too.  He's carrying a
rabbit by the ears.  He sits down just outside of camp and starts cleaning
it, without so much as a word.  When he's done, he brings the meat,
skewered on a sharpened stick, to the fire and props it over the flames between
two rocks.  Then he goes back to where he was cleaning, and returns with a
handful of rabbit fur.  "You want some more?" he asks me,
offering the handful, "or are you furry enough?"

I halfway appreciate the attempt at civility, except that I
can see he's still bristling inside.  He may try to bury it, but it's not
a real reconciliation.

"I'm furry enough."  I wave him off.  I
study my nails, digging dirt out from beneath them.

Jonas sighs and wanders away with his fur.

The night passes in awkward silence.  We go to bed
early, wanting to be rested for the next day.  Sleeping next to Jonas is
both thrilling and heart-breaking.  Tears leak from my eyes before I fall
asleep.  I need to make this stop.  I don't want to, but I need to.

In the morning, I'm awake before the others.  Dawn is
still grey, the sky only half-lit.  It's beyond cold, but there's
something peaceful and sacred about the early morning in the wilderness. 
I slip from camp while the others are only starting to climb from their packs. 
I wander off to find a place to use the bathroom, and then a little farther
just to be alone.  The trees rise above me in long lines reaching toward
the sky.  Physically, I feel tiny beneath them, but my soul must be larger
here, mirroring the vastness of the trees.  I feel strangely significant
amongst this endless, overwhelming world.

I walk out onto a rock that drops off, not far, but a good
leap to the level below.  I stop at the edge and gaze onward.  My
breath catches.  The cat's eyes meet mine, and we both stand frozen. 
It's only fifty feet off in the snow.  Huge.  Long, and
muscled.  It's eyes are golden.  It's probably the most beautiful
thing I've ever seen.  And the most frightening.  It may not be as
big as a bear, but something about the way it holds itself says it could close
the distance and catch hold of me before I could blink.  But it
doesn't.  We both just stare.

Then, all at once, it decides I am not a threat.  Or
maybe not even interesting.  It turns away, dismissing me.  It pads
off into the snow.  The roll of golden fur over smooth shoulders is
entrancing.  I can't breathe until it's gone.  Even then, I stand and
watch, wishing despite my fear that it would come back so I could catch one
more glimpse of it.

Moments later, I make my feet move again.  I head back
to camp, where the others are finishing breakfast.  Jacob hands me my
portion of leftover rabbit.  I munch a bite of the rabbit leg, then hold
it in my mouth so I can use both hands to rummage through my pack.  I
haven't thought of these in some time, but now I'm relieved to find they're
still there.  Matt and I decided against bringing gold in money form,
which could probably be more of a liability than a help in the city.  I
left behind the money I received from Sawyer, and each of us only carry a small
handful of silver.  I should have left the rings in the Outpost as well,
but somehow, I couldn’t.  I tucked them into my pack without a word,
knowing it was foolish.  Knowing I shouldn’t.  Now, I’m so glad I
did.  Without bringing them out of the little pouch, I run my fingers over
the rings, stroking their golden surfaces.  I hold the lion ring in my
palm and gaze down at its beautiful lines.  For the first time I
understand what Matt meant.  I breathlessly recall my encounter with the
lion, and wonder if Matt really thinks I'm that kind of beautiful.  Is it
possible for anyone to feel that way about me?

The others are moving around more, so I hastily put my rings
away.  I glance up and see Jonas walking off into the forest and feel an
immediate resolve to set things straight.  I give him a moment—he's
probably going to use the bathroom—and then I head off after him.

He's already walking back toward the campsite when I find
him, but we're far enough away to have a little privacy.  He looks
surprised to see me.  He slows to a stop in front of me, his eyes
searching my face.

"Can we talk?" I ask softly.

He shrugs, glances around, then gestures toward a fallen
log.  We sit facing each other, straddling the log, and there's an awkward
silence.  I was never sure exactly what I meant to say.

"I wish we could put all this behind us," I
finally manage, and the words start to come more easily.  "I hate the
way we've been.  I hate feeling like we're enemies."

There is a moment where the words sink in.  Then he
says, "I hate it, too."

I lean a little closer to him, feeling a wash of
relief.  "OK, then.  Let's not do that anymore.  Let's be
friends."

Again, a pause.  He looks away, into the snow. 
When he speaks, his words come out carefully, slowly.  "But we're not
friends, are we."  It's more of a statement than a question.

I scan his face uncertainly, my heart already sinking. 
"We're not?"

Now he looks at me.  "We're so much more than
friends," he says, leaning in, taking my hands in his.  He looks deep
into my eyes.  "We belong to each other."  His voice goes
to a hoarse whisper.  "You belong to me."

I jerk my hands away, reeling in dizziness, in ecstasy and
confusion.  I'm shaking my head before I even know what I'm doing. 
"No," I whisper back.  "I don't belong to you.  Not to
anyone.  You can't just claim me like I'm some slave."

A wave of pain flits across his face into his eyes. 
"It's not just one way," he protests.  "That's not what I'm
saying."

But I'm already backpedaling.  My head-shaking grows
more pronounced.  "We're not those people anymore," I insist, my
voice gaining strength and determination.  "We don't even know who
those people are."

"But our marks."  His voice is very soft, and
I can hear the hurt in it.  It does nothing to dissuade me.

"I have an idea," I suddenly proclaim, acid
growing in my voice.  "I'll conk you over the head until you pass out
and have amnesia.  Before you come to, I'll cross out 'Lily' and tattoo
'Apollon' onto your lip.  When you wake up, we'll see how you feel about
it.  Deal?"

He stares at me incredulously.

I'm seething.  This anger has been buried deep inside,
hidden out of sight.  But I've let it out, now.  Only the look in his
eyes quenches my fury.  I feel horrible for what I've said to him, but I
don't want to take it back.  Instead, I try to explain things more
tactfully, in a way that will hopefully preserve our friendship.  However
angry I am, I don't want to hurt him.  I just want to make this craziness
stop and escape with my heart in halfway-working order.  I'm afraid I'll
do neither.

"Look," I say softly, "I just...  It's
just too much.  I don't even have any idea who I am, but I'm pretty sure
it's not her.  And you—you don't even like me, if you're honest with
yourself.  I just annoy you."

He makes an exasperated little sigh and looks away, but I
continue before he can say anything.

"There's obviously something, with both of us, that’s
pulling us toward our past.  And maybe when we were them we believed we
would get through anything.  But we're not them, and we don't know how to
be them, and we're both just miserable because of whatever that thing is that's
tugging on us.  But I think it would be a mistake to just jump into
something because of what it was before.  That's gone."