Numbers Ignite (14 page)

“Just because Dad won’t discipline in public doesn’t mean he avoids it.” I didn’t mention that my father had never struck me in that way. He was a strange paradox, a fighter who refused to fight. “Speaking of fathers, why did your dad take so long to agree to this trip? He didn’t want to hand over his gun again?”

Anton’s smile faded. “It’s not that he doesn’t trust me with his rifle. It’s just—it’s nothing.”

“No, really. What did he say?”

“Forget about it.”

“Because he’s afraid you’ll get eaten by a bear.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Mountain lion? Or maybe a vulture.”

“He was punishing me, all right?” He rocked back and sat on the rocky ground, stretching his feet out in front of him. Shoots of brown grass extended between his legs. “Last time we went out, I almost shot my mom. She was coming toward us, all quiet. I aimed at her thinking she was a deer.”

“Your mom isn’t
that
ugly.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Okay, okay. I’m just glad you didn’t shoot her.”

Anton set his dad’s rifle against a tree and stretched. “Yeah, so am I. Dad shoved the barrel just in time, and I shot a tree instead. Then he took his belt to me and my mom both.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t walk in front of you while you’re holding that thing.”

Anton let out a frustrated breath. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well,” I said, “now I know why my dad insists on the trigger sequence. I just thought he was being paranoid.” Anton’s frown deepened, and I sobered. “Just forget it. I’m pretty sure the rabbit is still in there. If we hurry, we can cook him up out here so we don’t have to share.”

“Some chief’s son you are,” Anton said, but he settled down on his knees again, looking down his rifle toward the bush. He absently scratched at an itch on his nose. I chose not to point it out.

I liked everything about the hunting—the thrill of catching sight of prey, the chase, and that one chance to make your shot count. But I hated the dead time in between. The waiting made me restless and irritable. We’d been tracking this animal for several hours now. Definitely too long for a rabbit that would only feed three people.

Suddenly Anton stiffened. “Did you see that?”

I lifted my rifle and looked down the barrel, ignoring the scope. I never used it. Nothing moved. “Did it run out?”

“Nah, it’s still there. I saw some brown. Maybe it’s testing us.”

“Rabbits aren’t smart enough for that.”

“Shh…I’m concentrating.”

“Trigger sequence,” I reminded him. “No shooting until you call it first.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ready,” he whispered.

“Set,” I said.

“Go.” He paused for a second, then pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, emitting a powerful blast. He leaped to his feet and yelped. “Yes!”

I didn’t see anything, but I chuckled. Anton had never hit anything before, but you’d think he had taken down a grizzly.

He leaped through the brush and headed toward his kill.

“Be careful,” I said. “It may not be dead.”

“Oh, it’s dead. And it’s no rabbit. Check this out, Vance. It’s got to be a buck!” He trotted toward a lump on the ground. I followed him, rifle up and ready, safety on.

He was right. Whatever he had shot was much, much larger than a rabbit. The brownish lump lay still on the forest floor.

“Oh no.” He knelt next to it. “Don’t tell me.”

“A doe,” I said.

He put a hand on the body. It had been a clean shot, right through the heart. A quick death. If it had been a buck, Anton would be hailed as a hero for the shot. But there was one animal that was off limits in the forest, and that was the doe. The recent deer shortage had the circle worried, and they’d decided last year to implement restrictions about what we could bring home.

Something else moved in the brush, and I raised my rifle, but Anton just shook his head. “A fawn. I saw it behind that tree.” He kicked a tree branch, sending it sailing over a rock. “My dad’ll never let me hunt again.”

“We can leave it here,” I suggested.

“Nah. The others will find it and figure out what happened. Besides, as bad as this is, wasting the meat would be worse.”

I nodded. He’d echoed my thoughts exactly.

Anton sighed. “Well, may as well get it over with. Give me a hand, will you?”

I helped him lift it over his shoulders, the head flopping lifelessly to his right side. He gathered the legs in front of him and nodded to his rifle. “Carry that for me.”

“Will do.”

An hour later we pushed through the gates and into the settlement. Anton stumbled along behind me, exhausted and angry, deer blood dripping down the back of his shirt and matting his hair. The settlers who walked by brightened at the sight of fresh meat, but the older ones narrowed their eyes when they looked closely at Anton’s kill.

When we reached the wing of the lodge where Anton lived, we had a crowd following us. Some just wanted the meat, but I knew others wanted to see what his dad would do when he found out what Anton had done.

“Let’s take it to my place,” I said.

“I’ll get punished harder if I don’t show him now,” Anton said.

“What’s going on?” his father’s voice said, and he shoved the door open. Anton’s dad, Jaxon Beck, was one of our best hunters. His face was browned and heavily lined from years of squinting in the sun. His eyes lit up with pride when he saw Anton’s kill, and then his smile froze.

“It’s a doe,” Anton said quickly. “I didn’t—”

“He didn’t do it,” I jumped in. “It was me. I didn’t get a good look before I shot it, sir. I’m afraid to tell my parents.”

Anton’s father folded his muscled arms and looked me squarely in the face. “You will go home right now and tell the chief exactly what happened. There’s only one thing I hate more than lying, and that’s fear.”

“Yes, sir.”

Anton gaped at me. “But—”

“Don’t try to defend me,” I told him. “I appreciate it, but your dad’s right. I’d better go face the consequences. I’ll see you later.”

Anton looked at his father, then swallowed. “Um, I’ll hold on to the doe for you.”

“One thing’s for sure,” his father said as I walked away. “Vance won’t be getting an inch of that meat. Probably no dinner at all, if I know ol’ Seb.”

He was right, but that would only be the beginning. My dad would be furious. I’d never shot something before I knew what it was, not even when I was young. We just didn’t do that. He would probably set me to work chopping wood or washing dishes in addition to the lack of dinner. He couldn’t have his own son undermining the settlement’s laws. In this instance, he had to be clan chief
and
a father.

Somehow it didn’t matter as I made my way home. Anton was free to hunt again, and his untarnished reputation would continue to follow him around. He cared what people thought of him. I didn’t.

As I sat there in my bird cage nearly five years later, I realized we were both paying for it in our own way.

“We need to talk,” I said the moment Lillibeth stepped in.

She looked up, and I then felt bad for sounding so demanding. The woman looked as if she’d aged ten years today. Her eyes were pinched and haunted, her shoulders hunched. But then her expression hardened, and my defenses instantly went up again.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said. “Coltrane, go check inventory on our emergency supplies.”

“I did that last week.”

“Do it again. Can’t be too careful.”

“But, Mom—” he began, looking at me helplessly.

“
Go.
”

Shaking his head, Coltrane pushed the curtain aside and left. If a door had been there, he probably would have slammed it behind him. It couldn’t be easy, growing up with this woman.

“Since when am I a prisoner here?” I snapped. “There was nothing in our agreement about me not being able to leave.”

Lillibeth straightened, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You’re subject to our laws, girl. Nobody leaves without permission from me or the elders. Even our own members are restricted to an outside visit but once a year, and that’s under cover of darkness. You tried to walk out an exit in broad daylight during lockdown! With NORA soldiers swarming the desert above us, for stars’ sake. What were you thinking?”

“I was trying to keep you safe!” My voice had risen to a shout now, but I didn’t stop. “They’re looking for
me
. I thought once they found me they’d leave your people alone.”

“And you’d appear out of thin air, well fed and clothed, and they wouldn’t question that.” She nearly spat the words. “Stupid girl. You would have killed us all.”

“I would never betray you.” I raised my arms, then let them fall to my sides. “I’m not the type of person who would do that. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

That hard glint entered her eyes again. “You’re a digit. You’d sacrifice every one of us if it meant getting what you want.”

“I—” It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. “If you only knew who I am, you’d let me go. My real name is Ametr—”

“Don’t tell me!”

Her scream echoed in the small dwelling, and I expected people to come running any moment. “But that first day, you asked who I really was.”

“I’ve changed my mind. The less I know, the better.”

I practically laughed. “With NORA hovering over the exit? You’re the harbinger, Lillibeth. We don’t have time to argue about this.”

“No,” she said quietly. “We don’t.”

“So you’ll let me go?”

“No, but I’d like to make an agreement. One that will benefit us both.” She sat on my bed and patted it. “Come. Let’s discuss this like adults.”

I wanted to tell her that she was the one screaming, but I figured that might not be the wisest course of action. I sat as far from her as was physically possible. “I’m listening.”

“Your options are limited with no supplies. You can leave and die in the desert, or you can leave and get captured by NORA. Neither one gets you wherever it is you were headed.”

She was right, but I forced myself to remain silent.

“Or,” she continued, “you can stay here for another day. Just through tomorrow night. Our exit was never discovered, and the helicopter left. The lockdown will lift, and life here will resume as normal. Oh, we’ll double the guard and keep watch on the sentinel around the clock, but for the most part, the danger is over for now. Tomorrow night is our yearly community social. I’d like for you to attend. After that, if you still insist on leaving, I’ll withdraw the guard and allow you to sneak out the south exit after dark. You’ll ‘steal’ one pack of our emergency supplies for your journey. It will only last you a week, but it will have to suffice. Do we have a deal?”

I stared at her. “You’re asking me to—to go to a party? But why?”

She stared at the ground. “It will be an important night for Coltrane. He’s presenting his project to the elders, and I know he’ll be crushed if you aren’t there. My son means everything to me.”

This conversation had taken such a strange turn I didn’t even know what to say. “Fair enough.”

“The last condition, however, is silence. You never tried to leave, and you have no idea what the helicopter was looking for. This conversation never happened. Do you understand?”

Something was wrong here. She wanted me to lie, to cover up the truth. Was this woman really asking me to put her community in danger for the sake of her son’s party? “I get it,” I said. “You don’t want your people to know you’ve been harboring a fugitive. If they find out who I really am, they’ll be livid.”

“My reasons are my own. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

What other option do I have?
If I didn’t go along with this, I’d never get out of here and NORA would keep searching. Eventually they’d find us here. Maybe this really was the easiest way to protect the people. And if I could avoid NORA scouting planes, there was a chance I could still get to Vance. Everyone would get what they wanted.

I pushed away my doubts and nodded. “Deal.”