“Then help me figure this out! We can come up with a solution while we travel.”
He sucks his bottom lip.
“Asher.”
But he doesn’t respond, just goes on shaking his head, refusing to look at me, his eyes rooted on the map between our feet.
Suddenly it’s all clear.
“All that talk about the Prime being able to help me,” I say, “about how we should agree to her terms now and do what we need to do later . . . You never meant it. You never planned on leaving this place again.”
“I was lucky to be allowed back this time. If I leave Powder Town again . . .”
“What about the Verdant? We know where it is!”
“Yeah, beyond a stretch of desert that no one’s ever crossed. Because it’s probably too scudding big to survive!” He drags a hand through his hair. “Delta, this might be as close to a Verdant as we’re ever going to get. This. Here.” He flings his arm at the walls around us. “They’ve got food, shelter, protection from the General. There’s a future here.”
I take a step away. “You’re being selfish.”
His face blanches. “That’s not fair.”
“You’re selfish, just like everyone else in the wastes.”
“I left to find your pack,” he insists, features steeling.
“And now you’re giving up on them.”
“I risked everything for you, Delta! The Barrel wasn’t safe for me, and I stayed. Even after everything I suffered at the General’s hands, I stayed in a hornet’s nest for you. I came to the Vulture’s Roost every day. You should be thanking me. I helped you escape and I brought you here, to safety.”
“No. You as good as conned me again!” I shout back. “You put me in a cage, with no way out, and you expect me to be grateful for it. Well, I’m not. You don’t want to help me or my pack. You want to help yourself.” I jab him in the chest with a finger. “You only care about yourself.”
I turn away and drag my heel through the map, back and forth, obscuring the markings. It’s burned into my mind now. Having finally seen the map, I’ll never forget it. I move faster, wildly, until there’s nothing left but loose earth.
“Delta,” he says softly. “Delta, come on.” His hand closes over my forearm, and I yank it free.
“Don’t touch me, Asher.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re being a coward.”
His face goes blank, his arm falls to his side, and he stands there staring at me in disbelief. He looks young suddenly, like a child. “So what are you gonna do, run? Alone?”
“Yes.” I push through the curtain and into the hall.
“You don’t even know how to sneak out of Powder Town,” he says, hurrying after me.
“No thanks to you.”
“The Prime might not let you back. If you go, it’s over. Delta, please don’t do this.”
I pick up my pace.
“Delta, stop.”
But I don’t.
I keep moving, and he lets me go.
* * *
I wait until they’re sleeping.
Cleo crashes almost immediately, but Asher takes longer. He didn’t say a word to me through dinner, and though he hasn’t looked my way once since we lay down on the bedrolls, I know he’s waiting. Waiting for me to get up. Waiting so he can stop me.
Finally, when my eyelids are heavy and near impossible to hold open, he drifts off. I can tell it by his breathing, how it lengthens, slows.
I ease soundlessly off the mat and pull on my jacket, gather my things. I swipe a bag from Cleo and fill it with food and water, plus a pitcher and cup that will allow me to set up an inverted well with my goggles as I did in Bedrock. I feel a touch guilty at taking her supplies, but I don’t dwell on it. This is Powder Town. She’ll be able to secure more. A theft here won’t break a person the way it might on the wastes.
I pause briefly in the doorway, glancing at Asher’s prone form.
It was a mistake to trust him. It’s always a mistake. Better to go it alone, count only on your own two hands.
I don’t understand how he could leave Powder Town once, turning his back on safety to find our pack, only to abandon that very pack when he learned that saving them was too hard. Indie would say something like, People are complicated, Delta. Stitched together all sorts of which ways, and when they come apart at the seams, you can’t just patch them up like a pair of gloves.
Maybe Asher needs mending, or maybe he’s too far gone to be saved. I just know that if a pair of gloves keeps failing, you don’t stitch them up endlessly. Eventually you throw them out and make a new pair. I can’t rely on him anymore. He helped all he could, and this is where we part ways.
On the streets, Powder Town is quiet, a bit of moon lighting my way. Almost too quiet. For the briefest moment I consider returning to Cleo’s and waiting for the solstice to make my move. The town will be rowdier then, the guards more distracted. But everyone will also be awake late into the night come midsummer, and the thought of slipping away without Asher or Cleo or someone noticing my absence feels impossible.
I shuffle for the saltpeter beds, sticking to the shadows until I have to cut across the Serpent River. Once on the opposite bank, I crouch low, observing the foothills.
Torches flicker on the rise, the Reaper’s sentries patrolling Powder Town’s vulnerable perimeter. They are fairly spread out, the closest one a quarter click to my left. The next a bit farther to my right. If I just stay low and move slowly, blending in with the boulders, I should be able to make my way up the foothills without being seen. After all, Asher mentioned that he went west when he ran from Powder Town. Perhaps sneaking past these very guards. At the crest of the bluff I should be well out of sight. From there, I can scale back down as I head north. I’ve got my lodestone to see me true. Once I’ve put distance between me and Powder Town, it’ll get easier.
Grasping the straps of the stolen rucksack, I sprint for the nearest boulder and duck alongside it.
No shouts, no whistles.
I watch the torches a moment, making sure that they are staying at their posts.
Then I grab my rucksack straps and do it again. Soon my legs are burning from the steady ascent. But the torches wink far below me, almost out of sight, and I can practically feel the wastes calling to me.
I stand, face the hillside, and barrel into something as I begin to run. I go down hard on my rump. Pain shoots up my spine.
A shadowy figure bends down to inspect me. A broad-shouldered woman with a braid that encircles her head like a crown.
“You didn’t think we only patrolled along the river, did you?”
I gape.
“Oh, you did. That’s cute.” She puts her forefinger and thumb into her mouth and produces a shrill whistle. “Deserter on the northern foothills!” she shouts.
The torches below jostle to action along the river. More flicker to life to the east and west, sentries who patrol from the shadows becoming visible. The whistle is repeated, rolling away into Powder Town, causing lights to wink to life throughout the shanties.
It’s fine, I tell myself. The Prime turning you out won’t change anything. So long as they let you keep your supplies, everything can carry on like you planned.