You're Hoping For A Taste

If I don't get out of this tent soon I will actually go homicidal. My back aches from sitting hunched over on the ground; my arms hurt where Jared grabbed me; my throat burns from dehydration. I'd cry but I don't want to waste the water. Instead, I've settled on burning with anger. I've got to the point where I'm struggling to breathe thanks to all the pent up emotion.

I haven't seen Kellin, or anyone else for that matter, since Jared caught us an hour ago. We didn't get very far. Kellin dragged me between tents as quickly as he could, but I don't think he had a plan, he was just fuming and wanted out. Next thing I knew, Kellin's hand was no longer in mine, and there were strong arms wrapped around me, pinning my own arms to my body. Two men had grabbed Kellin and were hauling him away. He was kicking and screaming, spitting abuse, and I was so worried for - and by - Kellin that I couldn't even remember to struggle against Jared as he led me away, dumping me in this tent where I've been sat alone since then.

We're never going to get to Vic and Tony now. We're never going to be safe.

The sound of footsteps approaching. I tense, my hands curled into fists where they lie in my lap. There's no furniture in here, just the ground.

The tent flap is pulled aside and there's the sudden flash of sunlight. A figure, in shadow, stumbles inside, another figure standing in the entrance.

Kellin hits the ground, and now that the sun isn't blinding me I can see the blood trailing down one side of his face. The gash on his forehead, the one he got days ago on the supply run, has somehow been reopened. And I bet it was Jared's doing.

Immediately I reach out for Kellin, but stop when I notice him glaring at the figure in the entranceway. It's Jared. His face is expressionless, but his eyes are intense, filled with an emotion, an intelligence, that I can't define. Kellin spits a glob of blood onto the ground.

“What did you do?” I ask Jared, and my voice is strained as I try to keep my emotions behind clenched teeth. Emotion might only makes things worse.

He simply shrugs.

Rage boils in my veins, molten. Nothing would make me happier than my fist connecting with his face.

“Could you at least get my first aid kit from my bag? I need to stop the bleeding and keep it from getting infected,” I continue.

He just stares at me.

I'm struggling to keep from shouting. “This isn't a kindness, Jared, it's a necessity. Please.”

He stands there, staring, for a few more seconds, before turning abruptly, the tent flap swinging closed behind him.

“Was that a 'yes' or a 'no'?” Kellin grumbles, probing his jaw with his fingers.

“Leave it alone,” I say, taking his hands and placing them in his lap; before I can let go, I notice the grazing on his knuckles, “let me look at it.”

“There's nothing to look at,” he says, but he lets me tilt his head so I can see the wound better. I fix him with my best ironic look and he grins, but it quickly spasms into a grimace.

I drop my hands with a sigh. There's nothing I can do without supplies. “If Jared doesn't come back with the first aid kit then I'm gonna go ape shit.”

“What are you gonna do? Rip the tent down?” Kellin says, smirking at me.

I narrow my eyes at him, but it gets distorted by a smile. “You haven't seen me angry yet, don't underestimate me.”

“Whatever you say,” he answers, still smirking. Then he adds, his expression hardening, “Why are you so nice to that guy, anyway?”

“Nice?” I repeat. “I wasn't being nice, I was being polite in the hope that it would get me what I wanted. No point in throwing my weight around.”

“No point in throwing your weight around, like me?” Kellin says.

I laugh, but it sounds hollow, and the reality of the situation comes hurtling back. “What do you think they'll do with us now?”

Kellin, with obvious discomfort, adjusts his position so he's sat cross-legged like me. “I don't know. I guess we didn't actually escape so maybe they won't kill us, they'll just keep us here and make us conform instead.” The nonchalant way in which he mentions our deaths makes my breath hitch for a second. To come this far and to die at the hands of the living rather than the dead would be a waste.

“I don't want to conform,” I say.

Kellin scoffs. “None of us do.”

“But maybe we'll have to.”

I'm not looking at Kellin, I'm watching the entrance to the tent, but in my peripheral vision I see his head snap to look at me.

I turn to him, a plan forming, expanding like a bubble. “Look,” I begin, “our main priority is getting to the radio, right? Even before escaping, that's what we need to do.”

Kellin nods firmly, but his brow is furrowed. “Right. We need to contact Vic and Tony.”

“But we're not gonna get to the radio, wherever they're keeping it, if they think we're gonna be making escape attempts all the time.”

Kellin's frown deepens before it suddenly smooths in realisation. He shakes his head slowly. “I am not being nice to these people.”

“We don't necessarily have to be nice. We just have to conform. If they think we're making an effort to accept their lifestyle, or that we're at least resigned to our fate here, then they should become more relaxed around us. We'll be kept in this tent for weeks if we don't, and then we'll never get to Vic and Tony in time.”

Kellin holds my gaze. He bites his lip, thinking. He looks tired, yet a spark of determination is flowering. “Okay. Okay, yeah, you're right.”

I don't know if my face betrays my emotions so obviously, but suddenly Kellin's frown returns and he says, “What are you planning?” His tone has a sharp edge to it. Just when I got him on side, it's all going to go tits up. “Alexa,” he adds, “just tell me.”

I sigh. “Nothing, I just... I think they'll be more likely to trust me in a short space of time rather than you or the others. If I play the innocent, naïve girl then maybe I could get to the radio.” I shrug. “It sounds stupid, but it might work.”

“No, I'm not letting you do that,” Kellin says, his words clipped.

“Well you like to risk your life for everyone, you've certainly risked your life a lot of times for me, so why can't I do the same?”

He shakes his head. “I can't-”

I cut him off. “You can't what, Kellin?”

“I can't let you do that,” he repeats more forcefully. “I don't... I don't want to risk losing you, I'm not prepared to do that, Alexa. I don't want people putting my life in front of theirs; I can't handle the guilt. I can't handle it any more.”

“Well I'm not going to sit here and watch you put everyone else before you again. You're too selfless; I didn't think that could be possible, but you are. Only you're doing it to make up for something you think you failed at. Please, Kellin, just stop. Stop beating yourself up about what happened to your family. I won't let you die for me as your own form of self-punishment. Okay?” When he doesn't answer, I repeat that one word, but instead of being louder it comes out as a sort of choked whisper, my anger boiling over into a sob that I desperately try and hold back. “Okay?”

He nods, and I could swear there are tears welling up in his eyes. “Okay.” He leans forward and his lips brush mine, his hand coming up to cup the side of my face.

And I would happily stay in this moment, but the entrance to the tent flies open and Kellin and I break apart. Jared stands there, and this time some emotion crosses his face, but it's a smirk. He tosses the first aid kit to me and leaves.

I begin rifling through the kit. “Let's sort out that cut then, and then set this plan in motion.”

A smile forms slowly on Kellin's face, tentative, testing. “But first, we need to find the others.”