Article 5

had to. He caught me more than once startling at shadows, and at times I could see his eyes darken as some terrible memory consumed him. We didn’t speak of our mutual vigilance. When the pressure got too tense, we moved out.

It was hard hiking. No trails had been carved through these hills, and when we weren’t shoving aside swollen brush, we were wading across streams or slopping through the mud. As the adrenaline wore off, our bodies stiffened and slowed like machines without oil.

We didn’t talk about what had happened at the house or what we had both said afterward. These things were tucked away in a locked box in the recesses of my mind. Instead I became consumed by thoughts of my mother’s safety, thoughts that brought me to the edge of hysteria before the fatigue finally numbed my mind.

As dusk descended, Chase finally forced us to stop. We were both stumbling regularly now, and getting clumsy.

“No one’s following. We’re making camp here.” His tone was so firm and so exhausted I knew I would lose any argument otherwise.

We were in a small clearing, a lopsided circle lined by pine trees. The ground was relatively flat and not too rocky. Chase checked our perimeter for safety and escape routes, then went to work connecting the curved aluminum poles of the tent he had stolen.

When I grabbed the pack to take out the food, he quickly stopped his task to retrieve the supplies himself. I wondered what he was hiding, but was too tired to care. I used the last of the smashed bread to make sandwiches, and inventoried our supplies. We still had two packages of freeze-dried soup and eight FBR-packaged granola bars left, but they wouldn’t last long. We were going to have to find some food fast.

“Chase?” I asked after a while. My thoughts had returned to the reformatory.

“Yeah.”

“If a guard at rehab was, um… caught… with a resident… do you think he’d be executed, too?” I hoped he understood what I meant, because I didn’t really want to go into a whole twisted explanation of what had happened.

Chase began stuffing the long pole into the nylon loops with fervor. I thought his face had darkened some, but maybe it was just the low light.

“Probably not. He wasn’t committing treason. He’ll probably be court-marshaled. Dishonorably discharged. It’s not common, but it happens.”

My face rose. I felt a little better at this news. Freedom from the FBR was what Sean and Rebecca had wanted.

“It’s not a good thing,” Chase added, seeing my face. “The civilian sector blacklists dishonorably discharged soldiers from everything. Getting a job, buying a house, applying for public assistance. Anything on the books. He’ll be held in contempt if he’s caught collecting pay.”

“But how’s he supposed to live?”

“He’s not. That’s the point.”

My shoulders slumped. Sean would still be a soldier, conflicted as long as he loved his Becca, but safe, if it hadn’t been for me.

Chase had stopped and was staring at me. “You seem pretty concerned about him,” he blurted.

“Well, yeah. His life is probably ruined because of me,” I answered miserably.

Chase went back to building the tent, no less forcefully than before. “If he would have followed the rules, he wouldn’t have had a problem.”

“And if you followed the rules, you wouldn’t have this problem! I remember!” I snapped. My head throbbed. His words from after the murder came forward, cutting fresh wounds. He would be hunted for life because of me. I was a liability. I was dangerous. I was his burden. I got it already.

We were interrupted by a long, whining cry in the distance. I jumped to my feet, but Chase only cocked an ear toward the sound. After a while, he continued working on the tent, unconcerned.

“Coyote,” he informed me.

I rubbed my arms, distracted. “Hungry coyote?”

He stared at me for a moment, ascertaining if I was really afraid.

“Probably. But don’t worry. He’s more scared of us than we are of him.”

I glanced around the campsite, visualizing a pack of rabid coyotes stalking their next meal.

Chase laughed suddenly.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. You just… Just, after everything that’s happened in the last couple days, you’re freaking out over a coyote.”

I pouted. He laughed again. Soon I was giggling, too. The sound was infectious.

The intensity of all my emotions seemed to make my hilarity that much more acute. Soon, the tears were streaming out of my eyes and I was gripping my stomach. I was happy to see Chase in the same boat. As the silliness died away, he smiled at me.

“That’s nice,” I said.

“What?”

“Your laugh. I haven’t heard it in, well, a year.”

His smile melted, and I felt a striking loss at his withdrawal. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. Talking about the past had been a mistake.

He turned around to finish the tent, and it was then that I saw the gun peeking out from beneath his shirt. He must have put it there sometime when I’d been distracted. Apparently he was more concerned about a hungry coyote than he was letting on.

Brushing my teeth made me feel a little better. After I’d splashed some water on my face, I removed the boots from my aching feet and crawled into the tent. Erected, it was no more than three feet high, a tight squeeze for one person and extremely cozy for two—especially when one of them was the size of a small mountain.

Still, when Chase zipped up the entrance behind me and turned, it was a surprise to find ourselves face to face, only inches apart.

A black-and-white photograph seared into my mind. His tousled hair and scruff and thick lashes. The high cheekbones that made the shadows of his face bold and secretive. The soft curve of his bottom lip.

A flash of heat sparked in the pit of my stomach. For a moment, I heard only the sound of my thundering heart. And then he slid away.

I willed my pulse to slow, but it would not listen. He had weakened me, stolen some of my control in one drawn-out look. And that, I knew from previous experience, left me treading on very dangerous ground.

I could not fall back in love with Chase Jennings. Doing so was like falling in love with a thunderstorm. Exciting and powerful, yes. Even beautiful. But violently tempered, unpredictable, and ultimately, short-lived.

You’re tired. Just go to sleep, I told myself.

And then I realized that there was only one sleeping bag.

“I guess I leave my clothes on, right?” My head reeled. I pinched my eyes closed.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, his voice low.

“I only meant in case we have to get out quickly. Like yesterday.”

“Makes sense.”

Shut up and lay down, I ordered myself. But it wasn’t that easy. Nerves danced in my belly. I had no idea how to approach him. I began analyzing every possible movement, where I should put my arm, my leg.

“You’re thinking so loudly it’s giving me a headache.”

I tried to reciprocate his annoyance, and that helped some. It was easier to be around him when he was cruel. It was harder when we weren’t fighting. It reminded me too much of how things used to be.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asked.

“It would help,” I admitted grouchily.

“Get over here.”

I had to smile then. He had such a polite way about him. After a deep breath, I crawled up beside him, and rested my head on my sweater.