me smile anymore.
“We’re not going to
make it,” Charles says, interrupting me from my thoughts, something I silently
thank him for.
“We have
to,” I say. “We need shelter for the night.”
“Then we’ll
dig a cave.” Charles stops. “Do what we always do.”
“We’ll make
it.”
“No. We
won’t.”
The whole
group has stopped by now, both Meredith and Angelo watching our every move.
“Just think
about it,” I say. “Inside, we can find shelter and security. We’ll bar the
doors and get a good night’s rest for once.” I think about last night, hear the
screams, feel the lack of wind and know that tonight will be a repeat.
“I am
thinking about it,” Charles says. “We’ll have to travel after the sun has set,
and we’ll be stuck out in the open for the whole goddamn world to see.”
“Then we
better make it there.” I step off, leaving Charles fuming behind me. I can feel
the hate in his eyes boring into the back of my skull, but I ignore him.
“Why is it
that we always have to follow your lead?”
I stop
again, turn. It’s not like I haven’t heard this before, though the growing
frequency of its recurrence starts to get to me. I never asked to be the
leader. They never asked me to be the leader. I just look at our needs and try
to fill them. They follow, with or without my consent. “Fine.” I hold up my
hands in surrender. “We’ll see what everyone else has to say about the matter.
We were and still can be a democratic society.”
“Who wants
to stay put for the night?” Charles asks. “Start work on a shelter and just
avoid the Spire altogether.” He puts up his hand and stares hard at the other
two.
Angelo pans
from Charles to me and back, his eyebrows furrowed. I don’t say a word. Don’t
even catch the younger man’s eye. No one else raises their hand. And the sky
and snowy plains seem to extend further beyond Charles, making him look smaller
and smaller against the world.
“Those for
the Spire?” I raise my hand. So does Angelo. Meredith just stands and blinks.
“What about
her?” Charles says, pointing an accusatory glove Meredith’s way. “She didn’t
vote.”
She doesn’t
say a word, or does she put up a hand, but she answers him just the same; she
heads towards the Spire.
Angelo
turns to follow her. I hesitate, watching Charles to see how he’ll react. I see
his eyes darken, his upper lip twitch, but he says nothing as he falls in line.
We’ll have
to pick up the pace, especially with the lost time. Luckily Meredith knows this
and she speeds up, almost to a jog. Our breath puffs in front of us, small
clouds chugging upwards and out, like an ancient steam trains or exhaust from a
car on cold days. What I wouldn’t give for either one—and a place to use
them.
The sun
continues its arc across the sky, dipping down lower and lower. The world
softens, changing from the harsh white to a dull yellow. Soon the snowcaps will
glisten and glow the colors of the rainbow, the sunset reflecting off each
hillock. Regardless of the situation, the image never grows old, and I always
think of the same thing: We’re walking on the sunset itself, traipsing across
painted sky. There is still another hour before the light starts to dwindle and
the snow changes color and the Spire is more than a ways off. I think Charles
is right; we should’ve stopped. Though instead of stopping the pack and making
due with the distance we’ve traveled, I jog along behind them, silent, panting
and praying that we’ll make it before night falls.
We don’t.
Chapter Four
Meredith
senses the urgency and moves even faster, our breath and the crunching snow
competing with one another to be the loudest. The sun disappears behind the
horizon, letting the world wake up from its heat induced slumber. And the cold
sets in. And far off, I hear a Jo-Bran bellow. We keep running, even after
Charles mutters, “I told you so” and something else that I can’t quite
“We’re not going to
make it,” Charles says, interrupting me from my thoughts, something I silently
thank him for.
“We have
to,” I say. “We need shelter for the night.”
“Then we’ll
dig a cave.” Charles stops. “Do what we always do.”
“We’ll make
it.”
“No. We
won’t.”
The whole
group has stopped by now, both Meredith and Angelo watching our every move.
“Just think
about it,” I say. “Inside, we can find shelter and security. We’ll bar the
doors and get a good night’s rest for once.” I think about last night, hear the
screams, feel the lack of wind and know that tonight will be a repeat.
“I am
thinking about it,” Charles says. “We’ll have to travel after the sun has set,
and we’ll be stuck out in the open for the whole goddamn world to see.”
“Then we
better make it there.” I step off, leaving Charles fuming behind me. I can feel
the hate in his eyes boring into the back of my skull, but I ignore him.
“Why is it
that we always have to follow your lead?”
I stop
again, turn. It’s not like I haven’t heard this before, though the growing
frequency of its recurrence starts to get to me. I never asked to be the
leader. They never asked me to be the leader. I just look at our needs and try
to fill them. They follow, with or without my consent. “Fine.” I hold up my
hands in surrender. “We’ll see what everyone else has to say about the matter.
We were and still can be a democratic society.”
“Who wants
to stay put for the night?” Charles asks. “Start work on a shelter and just
avoid the Spire altogether.” He puts up his hand and stares hard at the other
two.
Angelo pans
from Charles to me and back, his eyebrows furrowed. I don’t say a word. Don’t
even catch the younger man’s eye. No one else raises their hand. And the sky
and snowy plains seem to extend further beyond Charles, making him look smaller
and smaller against the world.
“Those for
the Spire?” I raise my hand. So does Angelo. Meredith just stands and blinks.
“What about
her?” Charles says, pointing an accusatory glove Meredith’s way. “She didn’t
vote.”
She doesn’t
say a word, or does she put up a hand, but she answers him just the same; she
heads towards the Spire.
Angelo
turns to follow her. I hesitate, watching Charles to see how he’ll react. I see
his eyes darken, his upper lip twitch, but he says nothing as he falls in line.
We’ll have
to pick up the pace, especially with the lost time. Luckily Meredith knows this
and she speeds up, almost to a jog. Our breath puffs in front of us, small
clouds chugging upwards and out, like an ancient steam trains or exhaust from a
car on cold days. What I wouldn’t give for either one—and a place to use
them.
The sun
continues its arc across the sky, dipping down lower and lower. The world
softens, changing from the harsh white to a dull yellow. Soon the snowcaps will
glisten and glow the colors of the rainbow, the sunset reflecting off each
hillock. Regardless of the situation, the image never grows old, and I always
think of the same thing: We’re walking on the sunset itself, traipsing across
painted sky. There is still another hour before the light starts to dwindle and
the snow changes color and the Spire is more than a ways off. I think Charles
is right; we should’ve stopped. Though instead of stopping the pack and making
due with the distance we’ve traveled, I jog along behind them, silent, panting
and praying that we’ll make it before night falls.
We don’t.
Chapter Four
Meredith
senses the urgency and moves even faster, our breath and the crunching snow
competing with one another to be the loudest. The sun disappears behind the
horizon, letting the world wake up from its heat induced slumber. And the cold
sets in. And far off, I hear a Jo-Bran bellow. We keep running, even after
Charles mutters, “I told you so” and something else that I can’t quite
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