Xander sighs as he walks in front of us, and I think I see him wipe his eyes. We both know what it is to lose a whole world.
“Does Topher know?” Xander asks. “That he’s the one who . . . ?”
“No. And I don’t think you should tell him. It will only make it worse.”
August’s response is a low grumble.
We arrive at the northwest exit, which is remarkable only in its lack of pretension, a small metal door with a pitifully small lock. While Xander slips outside to locate the sentries, August taps me on the shoulder.
You are my world, he signs. Then, because I’m sure he sees something in my eyes, I’m sorry.
“You don’t need to apologize. I owe you my life.”
No. Nothing give please.
Ah, I don’t owe him anything? If only that were true. I let go of his hand and try to run my fingers through my sweaty, tangled hair. Xander returns toting an assault rifle and a pistol. He hands them calmly to August as he gives us the update.
“The sentries are heading out to the perimeter gate to join the patrol. I told them I’d take this post.” He presses his eyes closed. “You should be able to hoof it up the mountain just west of here. It’s steep, but I’ve done it before. The path from the helipad will be crawling with patrols, and the helipad, too now, so you can’t go that way. No one will take the helicopter without Liam’s say-so, but someone will think of it. Then they’ll look for him. Then you’re fucked.” He takes a breath and sighs it out. “But failing that, you need to get to the service road south of the Yellowhead Highway and then into the rail tunnels. You still have a copy of the map?”
I do, in my pocket. Half the people on the base do. Xander has been obsessively making copies of them and handing them out. We stare at each other.
“What are you going to do?” I say. He pushes the door wide open and gazes up at the frost-covered mountains.
“I could create a diversion, I guess. Or make sure I’m on whatever patrol manages to follow you. Someone will figure it out. I . . .” He looks hopeless suddenly, another expression I’ve rarely seen on Xander. He’s the eternal optimist. The one who believes all things can be overcome. “This is suicide, Rave. If Liam’s crew catch up to you, they will kill you both.”
“They won’t catch up to us.” I turn to August, who is listening, still wheezing slightly, the rifle slung over his shoulder. “Will they?”
Carry you.
“Right. August can move scarily fast if he wants to. Even carrying me.”
“You have no supplies. Barely any weapons. And the Nahx could still be out there.”
“We’ll manage.”
Xander shakes his head, looking forlorn again. “I never wanted to be a soldier,” he says finally, simply. This is how Xander has felt all along. As much as he enjoyed a spar in the dojo, he was never up for this war.
“So why don’t you come with us?” I say. “To the coast?”
August takes my hand and squeezes, a little impatiently, tugging me out the door. I take one step away from Xander, two steps, until I’m on the landing of a small set of stairs leading down to the muddy ground below.
“I don’t think he could carry both of us,” Xander says. “You’ll send people back, right? A rescue mission? If you can?”
“Of course!” I dive back inside and throw my arms around him, ignoring the little growl August emits. “Take care of Topher, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.” He lets me go and leans out the door as I join August on the stairs. “Hey, August? Look after her.”
Promise, August signs, then takes my hand again. As I take the last two steps out of the base, I’m overcome with the realization that I might be their last hope. I hope that August and I can get away without being killed. I hope that he can get me to the human cities on the coast. I hope those left at the base can somehow continue to survive, that Liam won’t regain consciousness all the more determined to lead them to a massacre in the snow. I hope they will wait to be rescued.
So much hope hinging on me and August, disappearing in the fading afternoon light. We are the future of something unfinished and unformed, something powerful and important. I’m so scared and yet so certain that I’m doing the right thing. August squeezes my fingers and pulls me forward, away from the base, from my people, from Xander, from Topher, from Tucker’s memory, from everything I ever knew.
He pulls me away from the human race, and I follow.
Xander didn’t lie. The climb is steep and our progress slow. As August’s wheezing subsides, mine increases with every yard of elevation we gain. The cold isn’t helping; I’m not dressed for it, wearing my regular indoor uniform of cargo pants and a man’s hoodie over a long-sleeved T-shirt. And we have no water and no food. As far as escapes go, this one is poorly planned. Maybe because neither of us thinks we’ll actually get away. Maybe this is all some kind of last act of defiance. A final fuck-you to the species that failed to hold on to this planet.
When we have to scale rocky outcrops, August calmly invites me to climb on his back, where I cling like a chimpanzee baby until we reach more manageable terrain. I’m not a bad climber, actually. It’s another adrenaline sport I pursued when my life lacked any real excitement. But I don’t have the right shoes or any gear. That’s only part of my excuse. Maybe I’m just tired. Or maybe I like being so close to him.
Pausing on a plateau, I look back down at the base, now tiny and unthreatening in the distance. It doesn’t look like anything unusual is happening. We’ve been climbing, I estimate, for about two hours. If Liam has woken up, he’s not speaking. If Xander has run into Topher, he hasn’t betrayed us. Maybe they’ll let us just walk away. What would anyone gain by a pursuit? Maybe logic will prevail.
After another hour of climbing, it begins to grow dark. For me each breath grows more and more difficult, while August seems to buzz with renewed energy. I’m beginning to see why the Nahx prefer the high ground. Although he’s always seemed strong and fast to me, up here he’s extraordinary, leaping up cliff faces with me clinging to him, or casually hoisting me over smaller obstacles with one hand. As night falls, we reach the snow line, and though the cold will be harsh, August seems to want to stop. He leads me under an overhang, which turns out to be a small cave. When August turns on his light, I see the remains of a fire.
“Have you been here before?”
He nods, pointing at the blackened rocks and ash and making a sign, along with the question hand.
Want a fire?
“Won’t it be smoky?”
He shrugs. You cold?
“I think I’ll be okay if we sit close.”
He flicks his head back a few times like that’s funny. Which I guess it is. Then he puts his hand on his head and taps his helmet nervously, before sitting next to me, easing himself down with a low hiss.
“I’m sorry. I forgot that’s uncomfortable for you.” He merely shakes his head. “Do you know where we’re going?”
Your human friends. Long walk.
“Do you think we can make it?”