Page 25 of The Outsider
“They’ll kill me, Claire!” she screamed as we finished. “They’ll know I helped you!”
“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” I said with a shrug.
To her credit, Claire didn’t waver. Instead, she ripped off a new strip of tape, forced Holly’s jaw closed, and placed it over her mouth.
“Tell them whatever story you like,” she said. “Bye, Holly.”
She took my hand and pulled me toward the bunker door without looking back.
After securing the bunker, we went outside and watched carefully for patrols. Asha was silent, only speaking when spoken to, and I was fine with that. We went the same way we’d come in, and because we’d kept to our thirty-minute window, the streets were still mostly empty. We moved silently and came across a couple patrols, but we hid out in buildings till they moved on. I was worried about Asha somehow giving us away, but she was surprisingly quick on her feet and seemed confident about the possibility of combat, which made me wary.
We made it back across the river and started the long hike back to Kimmy. I only hoped she was okay. With how much had happened in the span of a day, I hadn’t had time to worry about her. Over the next few hours, I didn’t do much else.
Chapter 8
Claire
The trip back to Kimmy was long and arduous, doubly so because we had what she needed now, but there was no way for us to know if she was even still alive. We’d been gone two days, and it was likely it’d take at least another day to get back to her. I hoped her estimate of living another week was accurate.
“We need to make good time,” John said shortly to me. “Kimmy’s counting on us.”
I nodded. For the first couple hours, the three of us didn’t talk much—too focused on covering as much ground as possible. John was clearly distracted by his concern for Kimmy and pressed on at a punishing pace, especially for a man who’d barely slept in two days. We were both exhausted, but we couldn’t afford to make more than one stop to rest. We walked through the night with only occasional guidance from my flashlight; we didn’t want to attract prying eyes. Thankfully, the moon was full.
I stayed quiet, if only because I was stunned by the last twenty-four hours. The knowledge that the cult was seeking me out, trackingme down, was terrifying. But what made my chest tight was the news about my father. I’d known there was something strange about his death, even as a teenager. I’d just never imagined that he’d led a rebellion against the tyranny we lived under at the Cave.
I touched a lock of my red hair, so like his. I somehow recalled him more clearly now than I had in years—his kind eyes, loud laugh, and sweet singing voice. My throat ached so much that I had to push thoughts of him away. I needed to stay focused.
John reached over and stroked my arm occasionally, and I knew he was trying to comfort me without words. Asha walked parallel to us, and her every step reminded me of the whole new problem I’d somehow stumbled upon.
I’d only given a brief explanation of our journey to Asha, but if she objected to the grueling pace or lack of rest, she didn’t complain. The silence weighed between us over the night, heavy with all that remained unsaid. I wondered not only where she’d been all this time, but why she clearly had nowhere to go. She’d followed us on this journey without question.
Asha was much thinner than I remembered, her hands bony and her cheeks hollow. Her clothes were new—likely from the Cave—but they hung off her. However, the most obvious change was in her demeanour; she had a haunted look to her that I’d never seen. I didn’t want to admit it about my oldest friend, but her presence unnerved me. I didn’t blame John for not trusting her.
When John was confident that we’d finally put enough distance between us and the Cave, we stopped to rest for a few hours. The sky was beginning to lighten, and we’d set off again at the break of dawn. I laid out sleeping bags in the grass and gathered food from my pack. Asha simply sat in the grass nearby, watching John warily. She clearly didn’t trust him any more than he did her.
I pulled out a couple packets of preserved food that we’d gotten from the school, then sat next to John. They’d even included utensils—tiny sporks that folded up. Asha had already torn into one of the packets she’d taken and was eating ravenously.
“Homestyle macaroni and cheese,” John said, reading the packet. “Just add water for deliciousness, apparently.”
His sardonic tone made me smile a little, despite the tense circumstances. We added water from our bottles, and I raised a spork full of macaroni to my lips. I wrinkled my nose.
“Not homestyle, then?” John asked wryly.
“Hardly,” I said. “But it’s not terrible.”
As we ate, I noticed Asha emptied two meal packs by herself. I felt a pang of sympathy; she must be hungrier than we were. John yawned, and I noted the dark shadows under his eyes.
“You need sleep,” I murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek.
“When we’re back,” he answered, as I knew he would.
“No, now. I won’t have you keeling over on me. I’ll keep watch, okay? I promise I’ll wake you at dawn.”
He sighed, and I could tell his resistance was waning. I moved in and kissed him. I intended it to be brief, but he held me there for a second longer. My heart skipped a beat before we broke apart. He said goodnight and headed for his sleeping bag.
I looked at Asha across the fire, and she stared back, unblinking, giving me the impression that she’d been watching us the entire time. I shifted uncomfortably. Silence descended again for several minutes, until I heard John snoring softly. I smiled absently as I glanced over my shoulder at him; he’d been out like a light.
“You love him.”
