“I think we’re safe,” I said.
She nodded, not looking up.
“I don’t think he knows we’re here.”
She nodded again.
Somewhere in the distance I heard the sharp crack of breaking wood. Smashing the doors was just symbolic for Iceman, but it was going to be awful for the people who had to live in those barracks.
“You cold?” I asked.
Becky sat back, tucking her hand into her coat pocket. She stared at the water for a moment and then looked at me. She was good at putting on an optimistic face, but there was no pretense here. Her eyes were hard and hurt.
“You should have run.”
I shook my head and looked away. “I couldn’t.”
“You should have left me in the coop.”
“No.”
She could be as brave as she wanted, but I knew the truth. She was cold and sick and unprotected. If I’d failed, she’d have been on her own. If I’d succeeded in stealing the truck they’d know that I’d been in the town and they’d come back looking for Becky. I just couldn’t risk it either way.
The truck engine restarted in the distance. Iceman was leaving.
“Bense,” she said. “I heard what you said to Mason. I can take care of myself.”
I laughed, quiet and humorless, and looked at her. “Do you even remember what happened last night?”
“Bense …”
“Do you?” I said, raising my voice a little more. “You’ve got an infection, and you’re trying to heal, and now you’ve got Skiver and whoever else to worry about.”
“I’m glad you’re helping me,” she said. “I really am. But you have to quit babying me. If we don’t get out of here then everything that’s happened is a waste.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
I stood up and walked back to the trees. No one was in the field anymore, and Iceman was nowhere to be seen.
“When we were at the fence,” Becky said, “and we ran, we knew we had to leave people there. They told us to run. They knew it, too—that it was the only way to escape.”
I turned back to her. She looked so small below me, down at the bottom of the bank, crouched in a ball to stay warm.
“So what do you want me to do?” I tried to temper my voice, tried to sound calm, but days of frustration couldn’t be held back. “The truck’s gone. Mason’s dead. I did the best I could.”
She looked back at the stream, and then struggled to her feet. Her coat and pants were black with dirt.
“I’m not going to just head into the forest,” I said. “Not until you’re better.”
Becky looked up at me, the hardness in her face replaced with something else—I wasn’t sure what. She stepped into the stream, shuddering with cold as the water filled her shoes.
“Becky.”
She just shook her head and kept her eyes on her feet. She waded across and then climbed up the opposite bank. I hurried after her as she pushed through the willows, slowly and cautiously, wary of every difficult step. The long, thin branches whipped back at me as I followed her.
“Becky,” I said again, and she turned.
“Don’t think that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing—what you did,” she said, fighting the tears in her eyes. “I do. You saved my life, and you’ve taken care of me every minute.”
She paused, and I wanted to say something, but I could tell there was more to come. And I could tell I wasn’t going to like it.
“I told you I trusted you,” Becky said, now looking away so I couldn’t see how fast the tears were coming. “But you don’t owe me anything. If you had run for the truck, you wouldn’t have been abandoning me—you’d be helping me. You have bigger things to do. You’re strong and healthy and you need to get us out of here.”
I exhaled, long and drawn-out, giving me time to think. Time to calm down and not just snap back. “I meant what I told him,” I said. “I’m not leaving without you.”
She spun back to face me. “Well, you know what?”
We stared at each other for several seconds as she fought for words.
“What?”
Becky took a breath.
“There are more people here than me. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re not helping them.”
She turned and stepped through the willows. I followed. The green barracks were visible now, and the back of the commissary. Some of the kids were on the road, but it didn’t look like they’d seen us.
“Just …” she started. “Just … forget it.”
“Becky.”
She didn’t stop, but she was still having trouble walking. I stepped in front of her.
“Look,” I said, my voice beginning to shake, “I’m sorry I didn’t run to the truck. But I couldn’t leave you alone. You trusted me.”
Becky pulled her hood off and brushed her unkempt hair from her face. “You’re acting like this is some kind of debt. Like you owe me something.”
I started to speak, and she stopped me.
“I’m going to see Carrie and Curtis,” she said. “They’re going to help me, and you’ll be free to do whatever you need to do.”
“That’s not what I want.”
She shook her feet—they had to be freezing—and then looked back at me. “Well, so what? You can help people—you’re the only person right now who can—and you’re not doing it. And I don’t want it to be because of me.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Let me help you get back,” I said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“No—”
I tried to take her hand, but she pulled away and shot me a dark look.
“Benson, I didn’t trust you because I liked you. I trusted you because you earned it. You never stopped fighting, and you were trying to help, trying to convince all of us.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she held up a hand to stop me.
“I’m holding you back,” she said finally. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“But—”
She turned away from me, head down. “I don’t know how else to say it, Bense. I don’t want to say it.” There was a long pause. “I just can’t trust you anymore. Not when we’re together, at least. You’ll do better alone.”
I watched her walk the rest of the way across the field. I didn’t know what had happened. She hadn’t understood, and I didn’t know how to explain myself.
I didn’t want her to have to take care of herself. I wanted to help her.
I sat down on a broken log and waited, making sure she made it to the dorm. There wasn’t a door anymore, but a girl met her on the steps—I couldn’t tell who it was—and took Becky by the arm.
What was I supposed to do now?
Was it time to escape? To pack supplies and brave the forest? Maybe it wasn’t as scary as I’d thought—we’d spent the night outside. Maybe I could do it.
But I didn’t want to do it without Becky.
I was freezing—my feet and legs were shaking. I didn’t have any real desire to go back to the fort, but that was where my dry clothes were, so I headed over. As I got close, I expected to see something, some sign of what had just happened there—blood, maybe. But the only thing that looked out of place was the debris from the gate.