I didn’t expect him to share—of course not—but I wondered sometimes if he thought I was hoping he would. One of my few entertainments was hearing him eat his treats, because he always did so ostentatiously, perhaps rubbing it in the way he had with the pillow that first night.
Once, Jared slowly ripped open a bag of Cheetos—showy about it as usual—and the rich smell of fake powdered cheese rolled through my cave… delicious, irresistible. He ate one slowly, letting me hear each distinct crunch.
My stomach growled loudly, and I laughed at myself. I hadn’t laughed in so long; I tried to remember the last time and couldn’t—just that strange bout of macabre hysteria in the desert, which really didn’t count as laughter. Even before I’d come here, there hadn’t been much I’d found funny.
But this seemed hilarious to me for some reason—my stomach yearning after that one small Cheeto—and I laughed again. A sign of madness, surely.
I didn’t know how my reaction offended him, but he got up and disappeared. After a long moment, I could hear him eating the Cheetos again, but from farther away. I peeked out of the hole to see that he was sitting in the shadows at the end of the corridor, his back to me. I pulled my head inside, afraid he might turn and catch me watching. From then on, he stayed down at that end of the hall as much as possible. Only at night did he stretch out in front of my prison.
Twice a day—or rather twice a night, as he never took me when the others were about—I got to walk to the room with the rivers; it was a highlight, despite the terror, as it was the only time I was not hunched into the unnatural shapes my small cave forced on me. Each time I had to crawl back inside was harder than the last.
Three times that week, always during the sleeping hours, someone came to check on us.
The first time it was Kyle.
Jared’s sudden lunge to his feet woke me. “Get out of here,” he warned, holding the gun ready.
“Just checking,” Kyle said. His voice was far away but loud and rough enough that I was sure it was not his brother. “Someday you might not be here. Someday you might sleep too soundly.”
Jared’s only answer was to cock the gun.
I heard Kyle’s laughter trailing behind him as he left.
The other two times I didn’t know who it was. Kyle again, or maybe Ian, or maybe someone whose name I hadn’t learned. All I knew was that twice more I was woken by Jared jumping to his feet with the gun pointed at the intruder. No more words were spoken. Whoever was just checking didn’t bother to make conversation. When they were gone, Jared went back to sleep quickly. It took me longer to quiet my heart.
The fourth time was something new.
I was not quite asleep when Jared started awake, rolling to his knees in a swift movement. He came up with the gun in his hands and a curse on his lips.
“Easy,” a voice murmured from the distance. “I come in peace.”
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” Jared growled.
“I just want to talk.” The voice came closer. “You’re buried down here, missing the important discussions.… We miss your take on things.”
“I’m sure,” Jared said sarcastically.
“Oh, put the gun down. If I was planning to fight you, I would have come with four guys this time.”
There was a short silence, and when Jared spoke again, his voice carried a hint of dark humor. “How’s your brother these days?” he asked. Jared seemed to enjoy the question. It relaxed him to tease his visitor. He sat down and slouched against the wall halfway in front of my prison, at ease, but with the gun still ready.
My neck ached, seeming to comprehend that the hands that had crushed and bruised it were very close by.
“He’s still fuming about his nose,” Ian said. “Oh, well—it’s not the first time it’s been broken. I’ll tell him you said you were sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“I know. No one is ever sorry for hitting Kyle.”
They laughed quietly together; there was a sense of camaraderie in their amusement that seemed wildly out of place while Jared held a gun loosely pointed in Ian’s direction. But then, the bonds that were forged in this desperate place must have been very strong. Thicker than blood.
Ian sat down on the mat next to Jared. I could see his profile in silhouette, a black shape against the blue light. I noticed that his nose was perfect—straight, aquiline, the kind of nose that I’d seen in pictures of famous sculptures. Did that mean that others found him more bearable than the brother whose nose was often broken? Or that he was better at ducking?
“So what do you want, Ian? Not just an apology for Kyle, I imagine.”
“Did Jeb tell you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“They’ve given up the search. Even the Seekers.”