Defect - By Ryann Kerekes Page 0,74

my throat constricts. I suddenly remember dropping the used bandage on the ground last night. And when I got spooked by the sound in the forest, I’d jogged away and left it behind. A clue —pointing them in my direction. My chest heaves with panicked breaths. How could I be so careless?

I consider going back to get it, but it’s at least a four hour run back there. I can’t add eight hours – nearly a day – onto this trip. I know it will be nearly impossible to make it as it is. But if I don’t go back and get it – they could track me. I struggle for a breath and think through my options, but my head is cloudy. If I go back, they may be there waiting for me. I decide the lesser of two evils is letting them find the bandage rather than me.

I eat a handful of peanuts and take a few sips of water, and then I get moving again. I keep a steady pace all throughout the day. But by late afternoon, lack of sleep has finally caught up with me, and I cannot go any farther. I fall, exhausted, into a grassy field and let the long blades enclose me as I sink down.

My second day of walking, I realize that by now, my disappearance has surely reached the capital. I’m sure an all-out search is underway. If I let it, I know the panic of being captured will overtake me, so instead I focus on Will. I wonder if he’s already on his way. I briefly consider tucking myself away in the woods to wait for him. I could build us a little fort and wait for him to come. A smile creeps over my face at the thought of surprising him, throwing my arms around his neck and plastering him with kisses. I picture us walking to the outpost together, hand in hand. But just as quickly, my smile fades. I know I can’t wait. I’d be completely exposed out here. He and Rena made it very clear that I was to keep moving.

I imagine Will in command of a search party, barking orders, leading them away from me. As I picture what the compound must be like in the days since I disappeared, I realize it is sure to be utter chaos. And for the first time, I truly doubt Will’s plan about getting away. Surely things would be locked down more now than ever before. The fence would be secured and heavily guarded. The trench dug under the fence would be discovered and filled in. They would know where I crossed and ensure that no one ever got through that way again.

Hours, and eventually days, pass by in a blur of walking, jogging and nagging self-doubt that claws at my stomach. I spend most of my waking hours arguing with myself. I have impossible conversations in my head. I replay the way Rena looked down when Will said he’d come for me – almost like she couldn’t bear to witness our heartbreakingly far-fetched dreams.

And worst of all, I struggle to remember why Will couldn’t have just come with me that night. Why hadn’t I pulled his hand along and told him to just come, right then with me. My stomach cramps up, and I put my hand to my side, but keep walking.

When I find the square of chocolate Will wrapped in a tissue, my faith in him, in us, is restored. I only allow myself one tiny nibble from the corner. The flavor on my tongue evokes a response I’m not ready for. I don’t want to feel more vulnerable, but I do. My eyes instantly fill with tears. I remember the gentle way he always was with me. I think of us sitting on the musty log that day and remember closing my eyes while he placed the chocolate in my mouth. How I wanted to kiss him that day, but was so stunned by my body’s response to him, I had no idea what to do.

My mind replays every conversation we’d had. I think about what he told me about his brother. I wonder if it is hard for him to think about leaving him on the other side. My stomach flips. Was that why he didn’t come? He’s waiting for his brother. My heart pumps and aches. No. No. He is waiting to make sure … I don’t know for what, though.