Running Scared

We follow Roger through the trees and I'm careful to keep a good distance between us and them.

Grahame hovers around me, shifting positions constantly, as if determined to fight off anything and anyone that comes at us on his own. I swat his arm and pierce him with a look of annoyance.

"Would you quit that," I mutter, making sure to keep my voice low. "I want to talk to you but I can't if you keep buzzing around me like a fly."

He grimaces in embarrassment and moves to walk shoulder to shoulder with me. Ahead, Roger and the boy are chatting freely about the warming weather - or at least, Roger is talking enough for the both of them. The boy doesn't seem very sociable and keeps his heads cast down low; ironic coming from someone raised in the Community, for me to comment about the behaviour of another.

"So what is it?" Grahame asks, startling me by plucking a leaf from my hair. He offers a warm smile in encouragement and I shake myself, ignoring the leaping sensation in my stomach from the brush of his fingertips.

I suck in a breath and dive straight into it. "We need to discuss what we're going to do if this goes sour."

He stares blankly at me. I sigh, feeling the need to elaborate, frustrated that he isn't understanding.

"If they don't want us, do you think they'll just let us wander back off into the forest without a second glance? They'll want to keep us silent - for all they know, we'll blab the moment an Enforcer gets us and that jeopardizes their safety."

"It won't come to that." he says hurriedly, showing all the signs of spewing his disagreement at me. I clap a hand over his mouth and incline my head closer to his.

"If you think I'm going to walk in there pregnant and at their mercy without a backup plan, then you don't know a thing about me." I press closer, seizing a handful of his jumper to drag his face down to my level. "This is our baby I'm talking about, Grahame. I've not gone through all of this to fail now."

A part of me feels as if I've become a little neurotic but the rest of me, the part that thinks this whole idea is suicidal, is winning out. I don't want to die here, at the hands of these people. Meanwhile, Grahame is looking at me like I've grown another head.

"Amelia, what are you even saying?"

"I'm saying we still have the gun, we can still use it if we need to."

Grahame jerks back violently, his jumper slipping through my fingers, that look on his face growing more pronounced. It stirs something in me, something bubbling underneath all the rage and terror and fierceness though I quash it for the moment.

"You'd shoot down that kid? Roger?" he asks in disgust.

"I don't know Roger from eve. I know you and I know that I want us to get through this. I'll do what it takes to survive."

He shakes his head, his pace slowing a fraction. Roger and the boy are oblivious that we're quarrelling. Grahame steps in front of me, holding out his arm to keep me from passing. He stares at me squarely in the eyes, close for me to see every shade of blue in his irises.

"I don't want to have to kill everyone we meet, Amelia. That's - that's not who I am. That's not who you are, either. We're not murderers by nature, we're not Enforcers." he tells me sternly, for all the world looking as if he is trying to drill his message into my head by eye contact alone. "We'll find another way, just like we did in the Community."

The blow of those words hits me in the gut and suddenly, I'm ashamed - that feeling that I tried to keep buried. I press my hands into my face and for all of Grahame's insistence, I'm not exactly sure who I am anymore. Would I have ever considered this if it were a better world? Would I have even considered it before any of this happened?

I know that Grahame wants to take this conversation further, to keep me in the right way of thinking, his face is blown open like a book and I know he's deeply concerned about me but Roger has stopped in front of us, standing at the mouth of a cave that hadn't even registered to me until now.

"This is our home. I ask you to be respectful while you are here." he says solemnly, sweeping an arm out for us to enter first. Grahame shakes whatever he was about to say from his shoulders, pins a meaningful glance on me before stopping to walk into the cave. Even at a crouch, his head grazes the rocky ceiling.

As I pass by Roger, following Grahame through into the darkness, I catch a glimpse of Margery and the boy - George, was it? - waiting at the entrance, already dropping a curtain of leaves behind us.

Roger's voice sounds louder in the cave, reverberating around and ahead of our footsteps.

"A precaution, those leaves. Not much but they do a decent job of camouflaging us, just in case."

I keep thinking that this isn't a good idea, we should have just taken our chance back in the clearing and fled. The further into the cave we delve, the colder the temperature drops. I suppress a shudder, pull my clothes tighter around me, wishing I had an extra layer on.

"You should be seeing a light soon, have to keep all the way back here so the light doesn't attract people." Roger explains jovially, like he's having the time of his life. I can hear his stick clicking against the rocks in the cave floor and I try not to think of it as our death march.

Sure enough though, a flicker of orange burns ahead and I rush towards it, catching up to Grahame's silhouette.

"Grahame - " I begin, not even knowing what I want to say to him. He silences me with a look, as if he's still unsure of who I am now but there's a spark in his eyes that tells me he's already forgiven me.

I almost wish that he'd be harder on me.

As I emerge into the space, I see that there are two men already standing in the middle of the room. They must have expanded this part of the cave because the men don't have to stoop, far from it, and there are two tunnels branching off into further darkness.

Immediately, I am struck by the fact that they are identical. They tower impressively against the backdrop of a crackling fire - my eyes shoot up to the hole in the ceiling that must be for the smoke to escape through - hair shorn down to their scalps, each wearing the same searching expression. They don't appear surprised at our arrival but they're quick to appraise us, thick eyebrows over dark eyes, so low on their brows that they appear to be scowling.

Roger shuffles into the room and holds his arms out, as if welcoming us.

"I see you've met Julian and Stephen? I won't insult your intelligence by telling you that they're identical twins, you must have spotted that by now." he smiles, turning to the twins. "This is...well, would you know that we never asked you your names?"

My eyes dart to Grahame and he gamely steps up, ever polite, no doubt from our upbringing in the orphanage.

"Grahame Elliot." he says clearly before rounding on me. His voice drops and it's painful to hear the softness behind it when he speaks my name. "This is Amelia Freeman."

Roger's face splits into a wider grin, I know that he can plainly see the way Grahame feels about me, that he's already making links about the circumstances of our relationship.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Roger says, ushering Margery and the boy further into the room so that they're all stood in front of us. "I suppose you picked up on our names but I'll go through them anyway. I'm Roger and as you know, that's Julian and Stephen - "

Simultaneously, they nod once in our direction, neither alienating nor charming us.

"Margery is this delightful young woman here - "

She audibly clucks her tongue and rolls her eyes, not bothering to acknowledge us.

"And this is George, the youngest of our group." Roger finishes, clapping George on the shoulder, hard enough for his knees to buckle - or perhaps the boy is as nervous as it is.

There's an extended pause before Roger claps his hands together, breaking the tension.

"Right, let's get to it. For Julian and Stephen's benefit, I'll go over this once. Now we wondered on these two during our forage and we can't quite make up our mind - or should I say, Margery is being her usual, stubborn self. She seems to think these kids pose a threat to us, although I hardly see how they - "

"All I'm saying is we shouldn't just take in everyone we meet. We need to think about food supplies, sleeping spaces, how it's going to affect the dynamic of our group." Margery snarls, tucking her hands into the inside of her overalls. "I just think it's a stupid idea to let them in when we know nothing about them."

Grahame seizes his chance, stepping closer to the group and offering them his wide eyed, child-like face. "You have to let us stay, we'll die if you turn us away - "

"What a good idea." Margery cuts in.

"We've ran out of food, we lost our shelter." he cries earnestly, appealing to each person. I remain in the shadows, knowing that if I open my mouth, I'll probably mess the whole thing up.

"Tell us your story." Roger says, shutting Margery up with one glance. I resist the urge to smugly grin at her.

Grahame, however, turns to Roger, his eyebrows knitted together. "Our story?"

The old man nods and settles back against the cave wall, heaving his left leg into a more comfortable permission. He must struggle with it often, to require the aid of a walking stick. Already, I am picking out their weaknesses, gleaning whatever information I can that will help Grahame and I if we need it. I doubt at this point that there is a shred of decency left within me.

It's the twins I worry about; they stand side by side, broad shouldered and square jawed, analytic of our every move. I don't know how they've managed to harden their muscles and grow strong out here without governments assistance but this group must be coping better in the wild than Grahame and I are.

"Aye, your story - that's to say, how you ended up here, outside the perimeters of your city. I'm inclined to think that they didn't just let you waltz out of there with their permission."

I exchange a warning glance with Grahame, not keen to spill our guts out to these strangers and put ourselves into a position of vulnerability. We have no upper hand, we're already at their mercy. Roger, more observant than I gave him credit for, chuckles under his breath and fixes me with twinkling eyes.

"I've no ulterior motive, just a curiosity as to why you chose to leave - or perhaps escape is the correct term we should use, eh? It can't hurt your case though, m'girl."

Finally, I speak out to the room, already shaking my head. "Well, I don't know about - "

"She's pregnant." Grahame blurts, the words rushing out of him. He looks at me apologetically and I watch in horror as it all pours from him, like water springing from a tap, a secret that we've kept between us from the start. Our secret, not just his. "About five months along, she's been keeping a calendar so we know."

"You looked at my calendar?" I ask quietly, unable to stare at anything besides my feet.

"I - I found it tucked under my jacket in the bag. I didn't think you'd mind." Grahame says, his voice trailing off at the end." You don't mind...do you?"

I shrug my shoulders, the ability to do anything else has completely abandoned me. I don't know why I'm getting so upset over a calendar - barely even that, just paper which I've scrawled dates onto. It was mine though - just mine. All this time, we've been sharing this big fear, our food, water, sleeping next to each other, all night and all day. To have something of my own, something to make me separate from Grahame. I've been so used to being isolated my whole life that to suddenly have constant company - it's starting to wear on me.

"Oh dear, trouble in paradise so soon?" Margery chips in sarcastically. It takes all I have not to get up and smack her around the face.

"Enough, Margery." Roger demands, sitting straighter as he looks between me and Grahame. "Do you need a moment alone?"

Grahame is already speaking, "Yeah, that would - "

"No!" I bark, blinking tears from my eyes, feeling foolish for appearing like a betrayed, love-struck little girl. At least my voice is level. "Let Grahame finish telling you all about us."

"AMELIA!" Grahame shouts exasperatedly, making us all jump, caught in the rare act of losing his temper. The twins stand to attention but Roger waves them down. "We need this. We really, really need it. If we go back out there, we're going to die! Can you just lay aside whatever it is you're feeling, just this once?"

Veins pulse in his forehead and his eyes shine, orb-like, from the firelight glancing off their filmy surface. He has to breathe in deeply, with one hand scratching roughly at his patchy beard, like he's trying to pull it all out with his fingers alone. The other hand stretches out for mine and I let all the childishness seep out of me the moment his thumb brushes across my knuckles. He hadn't shouted because he was mad at me - no, it was from desperation.

"I don't know what you want from me, Amelia." he tells me flatly, his face void of emotion.

I've ruined the optimist in Grahame; this whole thing, right from the cafe, has been a draining experience for us but Grahame has been doing a remarkable job of keeping a lot of that in.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, letting my eyelids shutter for a second. "I'm so sorry. I keep acting like an asshole."

The mask splits apart and Grahame finally comes undone. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes but it does nothing to stop the fat tears dripping into his beard. He heaves out a wheezy sob, forcing himself back into a state of calm for the sake of our company. Nevertheless, once he's a little composed, he comes to me and ducks his face into my hair. His fingers are rubbing circles into my shoulders and I lose the ability to do anything except to stand here with him. I've finally made him crack, the stress is too much for him. He tries to please me so much and I make it difficult.

"I feel like shit." I murmur to him gently, tentatively stroking the back of his neck in a gesture of intimacy I thought was beyond me. "I know how hard you try, Grahame. You deserve more than to be stuck with me. Whatever you want, we'll do it. It doesn't matter about the calendar."

He responds by choking out another sob, his chest shuddering.

A cough draws us apart. I glance at Grahame's puffy, blotched face but he manages a watery smile.

"That was beautiful, really - thanks for that entertainment." Margery drawls. "You're forgetting we need to hear your tale."

I nod to Grahame and with a rattling breath, our hands locked together, he launches into our story, emitting not a single thing and to their credit, they do not interrupt or make remarks, not even Margery. In fact, they seem eager to learn news of the Community, to hear how our city is ran, the way we planned our escape. They must have been on the run for a long time.

"So," Grahame sighs, neatly tying up the last detail of how we came to be here, ending with us meeting them. He is addressing Roger alone now. "Now that you know what we've been through, all the things we've had to endure. Please, just please, let us stay."

I'm moving away from Grahame in a dream state and lower myself in front of Roger, clasping my hands together as if praying. He isn't smiling but stares intently at me instead, as if this decision rests solely on me and what I say now.

"I can't avoid the Enforcer's forever, Roger, not the rate my stomach is growing. You'll let us stay, won't you?"

The old man gazes at each of his companions in turn, lingering on Margery's stony face last.

"You will let us?"