Page 72 of The Compound

“You’ve been with me all day,” I said. “When would I have had the chance?”

“All day today,” he said. “But not yesterday.” He stayed standing in the doorway, though I feared the moment he would step beyond. There was a shovel near me, leaning against the wall.

“I had energy drinks,” I said. “Left over from a Personal Task. They’re gone now, but they kept me going for a while.”

He looked at me for a few moments. “But you need water now. I can see it. Your stomach feels hollow, even though you’ve eaten, right? And you feel lightheaded, like you might pass out.”

I didn’t answer. He stepped out of the door. As he stepped close beside me I flinched, and he saw it. But he only took the shovel and handed it to me. “Just beyond where the flower arches used to be. That should be a good place to go. It’s private, but close enough that I can hear you shout if you feel like you’re going to faint. I’ll stay here and keep an eye out for Becca.”

“Thanks,” I said. The shovel was heavy, and my instinct was to drop it. My muscles felt good for nothing.

“We haven’t always gotten along, have we, Lily? I got a little caught up in some things that didn’t really matter. Losing the shed was hard for me. I built it with my own two hands. And losing all of our rewards…it was a hard blow to take. But the most important thing now is that we work together. If we only look out for ourselves—well, we’re no better than animals. We’ll find Becca, and we’ll do the task, and we’ll have water. Becca will go home, and the three of us can live together peacefully. We don’t need to live on top of each other. I could build another shed. But it wouldn’t be a shed, it could be a kind of…guesthouse. And you wouldn’t have to worry about running into me or being uncomfortable or anything like that. That sound good?”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out.”

“Well,” he said, looking at me. “I’m sure we’re all starting to make a plan at this point.”

“What would you do if you won?”

I didn’t expect him to answer, but he replied instantly, as though eager to tell me. “I’d get yards and yards of barbed wire. And I’d build a fence around the compound, much better than the other one. I’d make sure nothing and no one would be able to disturb me. I’d stay here forever. No one could make me leave. Not ever.” He looked away, then flicked a look at me. “What about you? You want to be famous, is that it? Get some nice brand deals for yourself?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just want a rest.” I didn’t want to give Tom the satisfaction of telling him that his plan didn’t sound so different from my own.

He jerked his chin to the plain before us, a dismissal. “You go and do your thing, and I’ll wait for you here.”

I went beyond, to where the flower arches used to be. A few weeks ago, weeds and rushes and flowers would have brushed by me as I made my way across. But it was empty now, and I had to focus all of my concentration, every drop of energy that I had, on walking across the flat plain and keeping my balance, making sure that when I walked I was steady, with no weakness showing.

—

When we returnedinside, I immediately got into bed. I had grown so soft. I just wanted to lie there and let the issue resolve itself. They wouldn’t let us die, but Icoulddie.

Without meaning to, I fell asleep. I woke, horrified, unsure of how much time had passed. I had no way of knowing if it was deep into the night, or if only a few minutes had goneby.

How long had Becca gone without food? Andrew and Tom were asleep, too. I didn’t hesitate this time. I took my jumper off the ground where I’d thrown it, and left.

My feet were light on the ground, but they still might have heard me. I stopped more than once on the way to the kitchen, listening for the sound of the boys waking up, but the house remained entirely silent.

The door to the cupboard creaked again, loudly, as I filled my pockets with all the food that they could hold. I felt terrible, but in a dimmer way than I had earlier. I brought a lighter, the only light source that I could find. Its light was weak, and flickered as I moved across the grounds, but it focused me. There was adrenaline crashing through my veins, urging me to move swiftly. Fear overtook exhaustion, and I managed to run, though I made strange gasping noises, not like I was out of breath, but like I was being strangled. The light went out as I ran, and I held my hands in front of me, waiting for the touch of the hedge maze. I crashed into it at last and groped for the entrance. Finally, I found it, and said, “Becca!” softly. I lit the lighter again, and glanced behind me. There was nothing there, only darkness. Far beyond, there was the light of the house, warm and inviting in the distance.

“Becca!” I said again. She would know the sound of my step, she had said. I found the entrance and entered the maze, clutching the lighter,terrified that it might set one of the hedges alight, and there would be another fire. The walls seemed impossibly close. “Becca,” I said again, truly frightened now. I kept glancing at my feet, thinking that I would see her little body curled up, unmoving and white in the moonlight.

A hand grabbed me, and I jumped, crashing backward into the hedge. The lighter fell at my feet, extinguished. “Be quiet,” Becca’s voice said.

“Becca,” I said, reaching out, but she swatted my hands away.

“Be quiet, I said.”

We stood in silence, listening. There was nothing, no sound at all. I picked up the lighter from the ground. I could only see the whites of Becca’s eyes, and the vague outline of her hair. Speaking with barely a whisper, she said, “Follow me.” She put her hand in mine and led the way. How she knew where to go in the dark I don’t know. She had a dancer’s step, light and precise, and I tried to mimic her.

We got to the spot, indistinguishable to me from any other, and she sat us down, and moved the branches so that we were half exposed and half within the hedge. The twigs and leaves scraped at my face. I moved out a little more and lit the lighter. I could see her then: the light seemed enormous in the small space. She didn’t look good, but she definitely looked better than Andrew or Tom.

“Water,” I said.

She nodded, then said, “Did you bring food?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is there water left? Is it gone?”

She said nothing for a beat, and I took the food out of my pockets and dumped it in her lap. She turned and crawled a bit away. “It’s here,” she said. “See?” I could see it, dimly, the gallon bottle. There was water left: not a lot, but enough. She gave it to me, and even as I drank it in great, noisy gulps, I marveled at the self-control it must have taken to leave any. She was tearing at the food, stuffing it into her mouth, and we were like two rats, I thought, hiding in the shadows and gorging on what we could.

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