Humanity by J.D. Knutson Page B

us that kept us from leaving the other.
    Something occurred to me.
    “You’re not just letting me stay with you
because you feel sorry for me, are you?” I asked him, meeting his eyes again; I
had the strange feeling they had never left my face.
    “That’s exactly what I was doing,” he told me.
    I blinked.
    “Before I needed you to keep me alive,”
he added.
    “And now?”
    “Now I like you. There’s no reason for
you not to be around. And you need me, in whatever capacity. So it makes sense
for us to stay together for now.”
    I hated him saying I needed him, as if he was stating that I was weak. But I couldn’t
tell him he was wrong, especially after my reaction to his disappearance just a
little while ago.
    “Just so you know, just because I want to
be around you doesn’t mean I like you,” I told him.
    He raised both of his eyebrows. “Do you
still dis like me?” he asked.
    “No,” I admitted.
    “Good,” he replied, still holding my gaze
as he reached forward and tapped my nose; he pushed himself to his feet. “Then
we’re making progress.”

 
    Chapter 9
    “How are you doing?” I asked, following
behind Gideon at a careful pace.
    “I’m doing just fine, darling,” he said
over his shoulder, stepping carefully along the rocks. “I probably have another
two or so miles in me.”
    The stream traveled south, Gideon had
informed me, and so we’d decided to follow along it for a while; it was a great
source of fresh water, as well as very “aesthetically pleasing,” as Gideon
termed it. The banks were rocky, but the lull of the water was very soothing.
    “When we decide to stop for the day, I
want some time to wash up,” I said.
    “Okay.”
    “In private,” I added.
    “I understand.”
    “’Kay. Good.”
    He glanced at me again, and we kept
walking. Forty-five minutes later he started looking around, eyeing the area a
bit more.
    “Looking for a good stopping spot?” I
asked.
    He nodded toward a point a little further
ahead, on the other side of the stream from where we were walking. “That look
good?”
    The spot he indicated was directly beside
the water: a wedge of treeless land, bits of grass speckling the dirt. It was
still shaded by the trees, but had plenty of room so that we could camp by the
stream and also manage glimpses of the stars where the stream separated the
trees into a skylight.
    “Very picturesque,” I commented. Though I
noticed that the spot was a little smaller than the ones we usually chose. I
wasn’t sure we’d be able to camp on opposite sides of the fire tonight; the
fire would have to be directly by the water’s edge, with us sharing the space
right behind it. Did Gideon notice this? I probably shouldn’t bring it up; he
might think it was weird that I was considering the space issue at all.
    “Just one thing,” I added. I pointed at
the spot. “You aren’t going to be able to wait at our campsite while I’m in the
stream. You know. Bathing.”
    “I wasn’t going to. Aren’t you hungry?”
    “Er, yes.”
    “I was going to look around and see if
there was anything to eat.”
    “Aren’t you tired? I could do that part
after I’m done, and you can just sit a little further in the forest while I’m
out here.”
    He shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m
not too tired to have a look around at the pickings. You good here?” He stopped
walking, and I did, too.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said.
    “Alright, then. I’m off.” He lifted his
hand a little, a small wave, before crossing the stream and disappearing into
the trees.
    I stood there, struck by my sudden
aloneness, watching the point at which he’d disappeared.
    What if he hadn’t really been wanting to
look for food? What if he’d finally gotten tired of me?
I shook that off. One panic over that was enough for one day.
    I dropped my backpack under a tree,
studying my surroundings for signs of intruders. I set my gun down on my
backpack. Then, very slowly, not trusting that I