"What are you thinking?" Burt asked. He was sitting on a wooden bench opposite Beth, his back against a row of battered lockers.
The illumination in the poorly lit room was enough to show the worried frown on his face. The only window in their prison went into a narrow shaft—the little light it shed was losing its strength as the day waned.
The hours they had spent in their prison weighed heavily on Beth. "We need to get out of here," she said.
"Don't worry, girl," Burt replied. "You heard what they said. They don't want to kill us; they want to trade us. And your grandpa will cough up the ransom they ask for."
She tried to imagine her grandpa facing blackmail.
He wasn't a man to give in easily.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she said. "And even if he delivers the weapons, they will be turned against Seaside."
"He's your grandpa. I'm sure he'll pay. And if this rubble tries to attack us with their new weapons, your or my people will chase them off. Even with a few guns, they don't have the firepower to break into one of our walled communities."
"But people may die." She hit her fist on the bench she sat on. "And just because of us." With that, she got up and walked over to the window. Located right under the ceiling, she could hardly get to it with her hands.
Its brittle, wooden frame was attached to two hinges at its bottom and held by a latch at its top.
Would she fit into the shaft on the other side?
She stretched to reach the rusty latch, but it was too high.
"Can you get to it?" she asked.
"Let me try."
She made room for him as he stood on his toes. With a grunt, he slid his finger through the latch and pulled. It came free, and the window tilted into an open position, the gap at its top no more than a hand's width.
"Doesn't go further," he said.
Beth didn't believe this. "Lift me up."
He frowned at her.
"Get down. I'll climb your shoulders."
"Er... okay." He gave her a sheepish grin and bent his head towards her.
"Lower."
He obliged, squatting down.
Beth climbed his shoulders, his neck ending up between her legs.
He pushed her skirt from his face and chortled. "Now, that's interesting."
"You've got a one-track mind, mountain man. Get up, slowly."
Steadying himself against the wall, he did as instructed, lifting Beth's head right up to the window.
Burt moved his fingers up her thighs, humming.
She swatted him away. Then she slid her hands along the upper edge of the window and located a bar holding it against the frame. With a pull, it came free, and the window swung all the way down.
"Keep your hands to yourself, yokel," she said, "and get me closer to the shaft."
As Burt stepped up to the wall, she pulled herself towards the opening, her shoulders just fitting through it.
Humid, moldy air filled her nostrils. She twisted her head and looked up. A small rectangle held a patch of purple evening sky far above her. Much closer, though, a metal grid crossed the shaft—cast into the concrete and barring the passage. She seized one of its bars. Thicker as a finger and solid, it didn't budge.
A bout of frustration and fatigue welled up in Beth. "Shite."
"Language, woman."
"It's barred. We cannot get up here. Let me down."
As she stood on her own, Burt shrugged. "That's too bad, but I guess we've gotta wait now." He wrinkled his brow and brushed some dust from her sleeve. "Your Gater friend has dressed you well, and now you're soiling his precious shirt." He grinned.
She had told Burt what had transpired in Leo's apartment. About his daughter, Hope, and about him trying to protect Beth from Hammer.
"But he might still..." Burt rubbed her sleeve between his fingers. "... be willing to help you." Then he moved his thumb along the back of her hand.
The touch sent goosebumps up her arm, but Beth tried to concentrate on what Burt had said. "I don't think Leo would help me." Why should he? His loyalties lay elsewhere.
Burt seized both her hands and stepped closer. "You're sure about that?"
"Why should he help me? He doesn't even know me." She glanced at the door. "Be careful; they could come in at any time."
"So what?" He caressed her neck, stroking the skin behind her ear with a calloused thumb. His smile wrinkled the corner of his eyes. "These people seem to know all about claiming. Nothing could shock them."
Beth was torn between pushing his hand away and giving in to the shivers his slow finger movements sent down her spine. The fatigue she had felt only moments ago was gone.
"I've spent the day down here, making out with shadows," he said.
She laughed. "Making out with shadows? That's a great line."
"There was nothing better to do." He grinned at her, taking a step closer.
He smelled of sweat and man and animal as he gazed at her.
A clang from the door made her freeze.
Light streamed into the room as she pushed Burt away and turned to face the entry. Rock's bulky outline was easy to recognize against the unexpected brightness. He held a gun. It looked like Theodore's, the one that Leo had confiscated.
"Oh," he said.
"What do you want?" Burt made fists of both of his hands.
"Her!" Rock pointed at Beth. "Leo wants her."
Burt took a step towards Rock but stopped when the gun was pointed at him.
He looked at Beth, his muscles unknotting. Half of his face was pale in the light, the other half almost dissolving in shadow. "Remember what we said? He really seems to like you." A hint of a smile flickered along his lips and was gone a moment later.
Yes, Leo might have a sweet spot for her.
She nodded and then looked back at Rock. "Okay, let's go."
Rock made room for her to pass. She stepped into the corridor. He locked the door behind them and hung the key on a hook next to it.
Outside, the waning light on the incoming night cast the tiers in deep shadow. The sky above the central fields had turned a dark blue, and lamps shone outside the huts. Laughter and the scent of cooking came from that direction.
Rock turned left and motioned her to ascend the stairs, his bearded face unmoving.
She stopped and looked at him. "What does Leo want from me?"
He shrugged. "This isn't my concern. But there's no falsehood in Leo. He—"
A movement in the shadows of a pile of junk next to the stairs made him stop. "Who's that?"
"S'me." A girl's head popped up from behind an old crate—gap-toothed and pigtailed.
"Starlet, you should be with your granny," Rock said. "It's gonna be dark soon."
Instead of obeying, she came closer and took Beth's hand, inspecting it. " Spike said you Gaters go green at night. When's that?"
Beth chuckled. "He must have been joking. I'm not turning green, never."
The girl chewed her lips. "You're just regular people, then. S'a pity." Not letting go of Beth's hand, she looked up at her, disappointment written with a frown across her face. "What's your name?"
"Beth."
She frowned. "And what does Beth mean?"
Beth shrugged. "I don't know."
"Names should mean something. S'just proper."
"Yours means little star, right?"
She nodded solemnly. Without a further word, she let go of Beth's hands and ran off towards the village.
"Children and fools, they always speak the truth." Rock motioned Beth to move on.
As she ascended, she pondered the man's words. "You pick your words well," she said aloud.
He didn't reply, and they continued in silence. When they finally reached the entry to Leo's apartment, he stopped, his fingers on its handle. She couldn't see his face against the dusk-lit window at the end of the corridor.
"Turn your wounds into wisdom," he said and opened the door.
Trying to make sense of this statement, she yielded to his gentle push as he urged her into the room.