The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 32

It has become increasingly difficult to keep my mind from wandering as we run. For all its beauty the endless expanse of desert now strikes me as maddeningly unoriginal. Luca and I pass hours upon hours seeing only dry, cracked land, dotted intermittently by nothing more interesting than the odd patch of brush or scattering of rocks.

When the sun reaches its highest point it becomes too hot to run and we tramp into the underbrush, careful to keep our footsteps as soft as possible so that we don't disturb the wildlife.

We select a dried piece of foliage to hide behind and crouch low, Luca swinging his bow out from under his shoulder and notching an arrow. We keep our breaths shallow, eyes darting across the dense thicket, alert to any sounds or movement.

In these moments Luca becomes so still it is as though he were a part of the landscape itself. His nervous energy quells, leaving him solid and sure. His every muscle is tense, his fingers twitching almost imperceptibly against the taut bowstring. It never ceases to amaze me that brash, impatient Luca can suddenly obtain this level of focus. As he releases the arrow and exhales a singular breath it becomes clear that out here, amongst the sand and the dried remnants of nature, Luca is in his element.

He hands the bow to me, sitting back without a word of instruction. I roll my shoulders in an effort to loosen them, striving to adopt Luca's state of calm readiness. I keep the bow lowered, my eyes dancing along the ground until I spot the telltale rustling. Bringing the bow up slowly, I hold the weapon so that it is slightly tilted, feeling as though it is an extension of myself. I ground myself to the earth, eyeing my target, anticipating the next moment, envisioning myself completing an impossible leap.

I release a breath, my fingers unfurling. The arrow flies free, slicing through the air with pure precision and finding its mark, ending the life cleanly.

A grin alights my face and I turn to Luca, smiling broader when I catch his expression. He looks genuinely ecstatic, a look of pride alighting his dark features. We retrieve our meals and settle down to cook them, deliberately making our fire as smoky as possible in the hopes of drawing a ship.

"I don't think our companions would be too pleased if they knew we were deliberately trying to attract attention." I remark as I wring juice free of the raw meat, drenching some brush and tossing it into the flames. There is an ominous cracking and a heavy plume of grey smoke floats into the air.

Luca releases a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "For three days we attempted their strategy. Now, I think it is time to use ours."

I raise a piece of roasted meat to him in agreement, taking a bite and rolling the sweet flavour around in my mouth. For the millionth time I scan the sky, my eyes tracing the horizon until I spot something peculiar sticking out past the brush.

"What is it?" Luca has caught my expression and rises up into a crouch, following my gaze.

"Do you see that?" I ask, squinting into the distance.

He doesn't respond immediately. The object blurs in the harsh sunlight and I blink heavily to clear my vision.

"It it some type of structure." He says. "We should go see."

"Shouldn't we leave a message for Will and Jaron first?"

He is already on his feet, putting out the fire and packing the rest of the cooked meat into sacks of salt. "We left them a note not too far back." He reasons. "Let us go see the structure now. If it is anything of importance we can tell Jaron at the next station."

I spread the ashy remnants of the fire with the toe of my boot, dispersing the embers into the sand. "All right." I decide. "Let's be quick."

We set off at a steady clip, gradually increasing our speed and curving our trajectory so that we hug the dunes. The structure looms closer. It is straight as an arrow, thin and piercing the skin unnaturally. The height of the tower and the desert's illusion of distance means that we are a great deal further from the tube than I thought we would be by the time we draw close enough to stop and observe.