The Wounded

I thought of Addy and Hana and all the others we were leaving behind, and I worried we were ru

Sca

There were so many missing, and the spine of the long line was disjointed by two stretchers, Apella and Pietre.

I still saw Addy, rattling along, smacking the back of people’s legs with her walking stick as she passed under the canopy of brittle poplars that spread in front of us like an ancient avenue. The grey bark looked like the peeling skin of sunburn, bitten by frost and hungry deer.

I felt her in the sharpness of the dried grass that grazed my claves. I saw her in the delicate coverings of the trees. And I missed her.

Her wish was to be wrapped and tumbled down into the Hole with the rest of the dead Survivors. I didn’t go. I couldn’t watch her roll into the silty arms of the crater. I couldn’t watch a body that was once bursting with animation, advice, and sarcasm, skid down the edge like a stone.

We walked with the men, Rash, Pelo, and Alexei, although one was missing. Just like Addy, I saw Deshi in the land around us; he shot up from the ground in every perfectly postured, linear tree. I knew he haunted Joseph even worse.

They took turns carrying Apella. Alexei cradled Hessa in one arm, or sometimes he sat on the stretcher with her flavorless body. I wasn’t sure how much she noticed either of them. Her eyes were planted in the sky, tracking clouds or wishing she were up there. It was hard to tell.

She slept a lot of the time, her wheezing breath almost as loud as the endless boots crushing leaves and sticks underfoot. Alexei talked to her even when she slept. His grip on the rope of reality was slipping, his hands burning as he slid even further away.

A flash of red hair streamed through the trees. I’d barely seen Careen since we left. Sick of the moaning Pietre, she had decided to take out her frustration on the poor wildlife that pecked or scampered around the edges of our caravan. She gracefully whipped through the background, occasionally throwing a spear or knife, and bringing armloads of small game in for di

I slapped out at a passing branch in frustration and sighed.

“What’s the matter with you, Soar?” Rash said from behind me. Joseph humphed loudly, but we both ignored him

“What? Apart from everything?”

“Way to be positive,” Rash exclaimed sarcastically.

“You haven’t been to the Monkey City, Rash. It’s so creepy. I’m not sure it’s any safer than what we just left.”

Rash patted Orry’s head and smiled toothily. “You worry too much. It’ll be fine.”

I rolled my eyes. “You worry too little.” I punched his shoulder. He shoved me back lightly, careful to avoid Orry, but I stumbled into a tree.

A sharp hand grabbed me before I fell. I thought it was Joseph and was about to snap that I was fine, when the sharp fingers dug in a little. I spun around to see Pelo staring at me intensely, his odd eyes smashing me with their glare. I whipped my arm back out of his grasp, and his eyes softened to sadness.

Formally, weirdly, he said, “Rosa, may I speak with you in private?”

I cocked my head to the side, marveling at the many Pelos I had met since that night on the other side of the wall in Pau. This Pelo was stiff and starchy, his hands balled in fists at his sides, shaking just a tiny bit. Was he nervous?

I opened my mouth to say something more cordial, but all that came out was, “No thanks.”

Head forward, I continued stomping through the woods, very aware he was right behind me.

He caught up and grabbed my shoulder. I stopped still. “Please, Rosa. You owe me at least this. Hear me out.” His voice was laced with forced authority, and it reminded me of when he caught me very methodically and psychotically cutting big square windows into the butt of several of my mother’s skirts because she’d told me I couldn’t go outside to play in the snow. I was six, and he had punished me by making me shovel the snow from all the driveways on our street. I could still see the slight curl of his lip as he tried to look angry, but he came to help me after my first driveway. “If we do it together, it will take half the time,” he’d said. “Rosa, stop scowling and have some fun.” He’d dipped his hand into the snow and thrown it at me, making me laugh. Now the memory just stung me, like the snow was a handful of splintered glass.

Calmly, I handed Orry to Rash and stepped out of the line, taking a few steps away from the group, pulling myself through the white trunks. Joseph followed. Pelo looked from me to Joseph and sighed.

He started to talk, but I cut him off. The memory of the snow from all those years ago melted in my angry hands. I stared at my feet for a long while, and then lifted my eyes to meet his. Red, I could only see red.

Softly, but strongly, I said, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Rosa…” Joseph sighed. I put my hand up to silence him.

Pelo was as thin as one of the straggly pine trees behind him and as straight as one too. I thought, Don’t do it. Don’t try to act all fatherly. It’s too late. But even though I barely knew him anymore, I knew what he would say.

His lips hardened, the authority almost laughable in his expression. “I am your father. You do owe me at least the chance to explain.” That word again, owe.

I laughed, coldly like the winter’s chill was inside me. Joseph slid his hand around my waist, but I couldn’t feel his warmth. I was frozen with anger. “You’re wrong, Pelo. I owe you nothing. You were supposed to take care of me until I was eighteen, not eight,” I spat, my voice rising with my emotions. People had stopped walking and peered between the trees, to where the three of us were trapped in this argument like birds pecking each other in a wooden cage. I walked right up to him and pushed my finger at his chest. “You owe me, Pelo. You owe me ten years!” I shouted. There was silence save a frightened flap of wings from above. I had just managed to quiet hundreds of peoples’ chattering with my rage.

Once the words I had been dying to say finally escaped my lips, I felt free.

Pelo looked like he had been hit with a sledgehammer. Stumbling back, he leaned against a tree, his dark face almost the same color as the worn, brown bark.

“I’m sorry,” he said, choking back tears.

I softened a little. Now I had stepped outside the cage and he was trapped, alone.

Joseph stepped in, his giant frame casting a shadow over Pelo. “Look, Pelo, I think we better leave it at that for now.”

Pelo nodded.

“No,” I whispered. “I can’t leave it. It can’t be left open like this.” We were twin wounds until we came to some kind of agreement.

Surprising even myself, I said, “I want you to be in my life. I want you to be in Orry’s life. But you can’t keep lording the fact that you are my biological father over my head.” I tugged at my hairband, letting the plait fall loose, the crimped strands dancing over my shoulders, stalling. What did I want? “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” His face crumpled. “We have to start from scratch. Start over. You’re new to me, I don’t know you, and you certainly don’t know me.”