Page 75 of The Compound

Behind me, Andrew suddenly fell to the ground. It shocked me to see: there was something horrifying about it, the limp way that he fell, the fact that it was Andrew. Curiously, no one moved to help him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m fine. Just—let’s just do the task.” He got back to his feet, unsteadily, and leaned against the hedge. “Is there really no water left?” His words were slurred.

“I’m sorry, man,” Tom said. “We’ll get you sorted as soon as the screen turns green.”

Becca was sobbing quietly.

“Becca,” Tom said. “We need you to lead us out of the maze. Can you do that?”

Becca’s blood was drenching my shirt, and I felt that I might pass out at any second; still, Tom’s condescending tone in that moment somehow struck me as one of the worst parts of that night.

She leaned on me, limping, and led us through the maze. The boys followed closely behind, Andrew stepping on my heels every now and then, apologizing each time.

Sixteen

We went to the dustypatch of ground where we had done all our tasks, back when we still cared to look after the compound. Tom marked out what he thought was one hundred meters, placing a stone as the finishing line. I was pleased to see him stagger a little at one point, though I found it infuriating that even in the state he was in he had to be the one in charge. For a brief time it had felt like Becca and I held the power—yet we were back, now, to our old routine, because Tom had found us, and Tom was stronger than we were.

We were all panting before we’d even begun. We stood at the starting line that Tom had drawn in the sand, and stared at the stone, one hundred meters away from us. It seemed impossible. Not one of us was in the condition to race. Becca, who an hour ago had been the strongest, was now clutching her leg, blood dripping down her face.

“We don’t need to do an amazing job,” Tom said. “We just need to do it. It’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Andrew nodded, though his head didn’t remain still after, but seemed to float around a bit, drifting up and to the side. I thought that it must be killing him not to be the one to give a pep talk.

“You okay, Becca?” Tom asked.

“Let’s just do it,” she said.

Tom looked at us. “We know from before that if someone cheats then it doesn’t count. We really, really don’t want to have to do this over. Does everyone understand?”

The other two nodded, and Andrew’s head again dipped all over the place. “Lily? Do you understand?” Tom asked.

“Fuck you,” I said.

“On the count of three.”

We positioned ourselves as well as we could. We were near the perimeter, and I thought, in the far distance, I could see movement. I couldn’t tell if it was an animal looking for food, or members of the crew, checking to make sure we didn’t die.

“One. Two. Three!”

For a few seconds, we all kept pace with each other. As I moved forward, I kept my face slightly turned so that I could see the position of the others. Andrew stumbled almost immediately, zombielike, shuffling, falling, picking himself up, falling again. Becca was ahead of him, but only by a small margin: she had tried to run, but after a few steps had to slow to a jagged, choppy walk. Tom was racing ahead, and so was I, the two of us neck and neck. I was not soft. I wasn’t strong, but I was fast. I was making a strange noise, like the sound a baby makes when they’re gearing up to wail, but I couldn’t stop. Tom was grunting too, his teeth bared in pain, but his legs still moved, quickly, quickly, and so did mine. Becca cried out in pain, and I saw Tom’s head twitch, and then turn to look behind his shoulder. He didn’t stop, but he was distracted, and for a fraction of a second he slowed. I pushed forward, the stone before me, almost there, and I heard him grunt again, his arms reaching out, as though to stop me, but I was ahead of him now. I wasn’t going home, I wouldn’t go home…

I made it to the stone and fell to the ground wheezing, every breath an effort. A second after me, Tom slammed his hand on the rock, and promptly vomited on his shoes. My vision was blurry, and my head felt heavy, but I looked up and saw Andrew and Becca, leaning on each other as they staggered across the dusty ground, Becca’s face drawn in pain, Andrew with his mouth open and his eyes wheeling around in his head. They were twenty feet away, then ten, and then, without warning, Andrew pulled away from Becca, who cried out and fell. “I’m sorry, Becca,” he said, and loped forward the final few feet to put his hand on the rock.

Becca didn’t try to rush the final stretch. She stood and walked toward us, her limp pronounced, though she moved with a certain dignity that was impossible not to admire. Andrew looked away as Becca took one final stride and sat down on the rock.

The irrigation system came on, and water spouted into the air in great, triumphant streams, silver under the moonlight. We sat and watched it lifelessly. In only a few days the land had become dry and hard, and as the water hit the earth it fell with an audible, drumlike thump.

We helped each other inside, my arm around Becca, Tom’s around Andrew. The house was close; it seemed like we would never make it, but then we were standing under the kitchen lights, and it felt like a different world. We smelled of sweat and vomit and blood, and I gagged once we closed the door behind us. We were disgusting. We were vile. Andrew lurched toward the sink, but Tom said, “Lily won the race. Let her have the first drink.” I didn’t stop to consider Tom’s distorted ideas on what constituted fair and honorable—I rushed to the sink, no thought in my head but water, water, water. I drank it straight from the tap, and the room was filled with the sound of my gasping and gulping and the water splashing. There were taps all around the house, but I think the others were too tired or injured to get to them. I moved to the side, and Tom took his turn, then Andrew, then Becca, and then I took bottles from the drawers, filled them, and gave them to the others.

“I should go,” Becca said. She was sitting on a chair, and looked terrible—pale and bloody, covered in dust.

Andrew was sitting on the floor. I felt poorly, but definitely better after having drunk the water. Andrew looked no better at all. He couldn’t look at Becca. Tom said, “You can’t go out into the desert covered in blood.”

“They need the—the banished person—gone by sunrise,” Andrew said. “Have a shower and rest for a couple of hours, and then we can take you out.”

“I’ll go on my own,” she said. “I don’t need your help.” She hesitated. “But I do need a shower. I’ll take the downstairs one.”

I got up, my joints aching, and helped her to the bathroom. I was ready to go in with her, but she shook her head and closed the door firmly in my face.

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