SPLICED

CHAPTER SEVEN

When the rabbit is cleaned and cooked, I wake Margaux so we can all eat, but I find my appetite has greatly diminished since Gideon's revelation. He's silent, and picks at his food, and the feeling in the pit of my stomach grows more intensely painful. Graciously, Margaux doesn't seem to take notice, chattering on and on about her family back home, and how she can't wait to see them. I start to ask her to stop, but think better of it. It isn't her fault, all that's happened, and it's the happiest I've seen her since Blake's death.

After we've eaten and cleaned up, Gideon adds a few more logs to the fire, before he turns his attention to us.

"We should try to get some rest, before we head out again."

"You two go ahead..." Margaux replies, "I'm pretty well rested, and you look super tired."

I look to Gideon, meet his eye and he nods. It won't do to argue, or to tell them I probably won't sleep, and a part of me is so exhausted I think that maybe for once I might manage a few hours. But I know it's a pipe dream, especially with the lingering feeling of dread, following what happened with Gideon. He wanders to the other side of the fire pit and I follow, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Gid, can we talk... please?" I know he doesn't want to, but carrying something like this around with us, unresolved as it is, will destroy us, and we need to stand together. I lead him away from the fire, away from Margaux, so we won't be overheard and when I speak, it is with a conscious ease, a temperament I know I'm not known for.

"I'm not angry with you, Gideon. I'm not..." I repeat, when he looks at me with disbelief, "You surprised me, and... and maybe at first I was mad, because it's just... I feel like it's been twenty minutes, you know? Since Alex... Since we left. I just... I didn't know how to deal with it. I... Gideon, you know I care about you. I could never be angry at you for telling me how you feel. I'm just not ready."

A sigh escapes and he reaches up, cups my cheek, "...I know. But... but that doesn't change the fact that I'm angry with myself, Charlotte. Doing that to you? Putting you in that position, so soon after Alex? I wouldn't blame you for one second if you hated me."

"You know I don't... I don't think I could, even if I wanted to. You're all I have, Gid. You and the others. You're my family. No matter what happens, that doesn't change. Not ever."

His hand falls to my shoulder and with a soft, tired laugh he pulls me against him, hugs me close. I feel his lips brush the crown of my head and the gesture is warming and comforting, and there's nothing more to it than just that. I can feel the residual frustrations melt away, the tension and with a smile I pull away.

"We should get some sleep..."

It comes, eventually, in patches here and there, broken by dreams, by restlessness. Day breaks a few hours after we lie down and Gideon stirs. None of us is very hungry, so we pack the few things we have and continue on. Once again, silence is our companion, but we move swiftly. Over time the trees thin, broadening out into open farmland and that afternoon we arrive at the border of Susquehanna County. For the next several hours, we wander down the rural roads, scoping out any possible places to rest, and by nightfall, we're rewarded with a small white farmhouse well off the road, with a full mailbox and an unlocked barn.

The barn is empty, with no wildlife and more importantly, no people. It's hardly a luxury hotel, but it's warm and private, and there's a small wood stove in the center that proves easy to light, once we locate the cords on the side of the house.

Settling in, Gideon and I once again take first watch so Margaux can sleep. We don't sit close as we did the night before. The tension has worn down, but some remains beneath the surface. I suspect it will for a long time and it seems wrong, somehow, to enjoy comfort in one another when it is only superficial. Still, despite all that transpired, we slip into easy conversation and I allow myself a moment, unburdened by thoughts of Eden. Gideon seems lighter, too, and I begin to think the further from the place we get, the easier it will become to return to some semblance of a normal life.

But as Gideon recounts the time he and his brother got caught trying to shoplift a recliner chair I hear them. The footsteps. Shifting straighter, I hold my finger to my lips and Gideon falls silent. He reaches over, nudges Margaux and as she stirs he signals for her to keep quiet. From my count, there are at least a dozen different treds. Heavy, tromping steps... thick soled boots. The kind the guards wore at Eden. Only these men move with a different precision, an ordered form of unity more akin to the police or...

The door to the barn bursts inward and Gideon is on his feet, pushing Margaux and me behind him, but before anyone enters, there's a tinkling sound of metal hitting the ground and the smoke grenade explodes before our eyes. We drop to the ground, but too slowly. The fog is thick and cloying and I can feel it burning my lungs, my eyes. I scramble, reaching out, clawing for Gideon or Margaux, but I get only air. The footsteps are coming now, closing in and as I suck in a breath of the noxious fumes, I hear a sound, like a camera shutter snapping and there's a sharp sting in my shoulder. Reaching up, I feel the butt of the tranquilizer dart. There are several more shuttering sounds, but I can't see, can't tell if they've made purchase in Gideon or Margaux. I feel the full weight of my body, a heaviness in my head, and I try to stay upright, but I can feel myself slipping. My wrists won't bear me and I fall, and as I do, my eyes lose vision.

The last thing I hear before I fall unconscious is a pair of thick-soled boots coming my way and all I can think is if they'd wanted us dead, they wouldn't use tranqs. Wanting us alive, though... is no comfort.