The Sign of One. Eugene Lambert
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‘Oh my Saviour, I’m sorry.’ Jude pulls back, her eyes big with concern. We both glance down at the bandage lying in the straw. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ I try to turn away, to stop her seeing, but I’m too slow.
I feel her go rigid. ‘Kyle!’
With the toe of my boot, I scuff uncertainly at the straw. When I look up, I’ve made up my mind. I can’t just say goodbye. It’s mad, but all the horror, the fear and loneliness, I can’t keep it inside – I need to tell her. Maybe if I can make Jude understand that I’m still me, everything will be all right again.
I sit her down on a hay bale. ‘I can trust you, can’t I?’
She nods stiffly, but I see her wondering.
‘Don’t be scared,’ I say.
I unbutton my shirt. One by one, I peel off the rest of Rona’s dressings and show Jude how my wounds have almost completely healed. I hold her tight when her eyes flood with panic. I shush her and stroke her curly hair.
She’s petrified, trembling like a newborn lamb.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I say.
Thank the Saviour she doesn’t scream, but when I relax my grip, anxious not to hurt her, she makes a break for it and I have to grab her again.
‘Jude, stop. I’m not going to hurt you.’
A long time goes by like this. I do everything I can to calm her. I whisper she has no reason to fear me. Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out, only a low moan. It’s an ugly feeling, me making her skin crawl. Not that I can blame her. She sees my unnatural healing and that means only one thing – human on the outside, inside a monster. No wonder she’s terrified.
‘Let – go – of – me,’ she says.
This time when I release her she cringes, but doesn’t run. She won’t let me touch her again, but she looks able to listen. Quickly, I make up some crap about Rona finding an ancient wonder drug in her medchest.
Jude stares as I babble on, her chest heaving, until I run out of words. She knows I’m lying, I can tell.
‘If anybody sees you like this,’ she says shakily, ‘you are dead. They won’t listen; they’ll kill you. And Rona too. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Uh-huh,’ I say. What else is there to say?
We sit there, in the circle of light, the darkness crushing in on us. I try to read her face, but there are too many shadows. On the way here, I had so much I wanted to say to her. Now, it all seems so pointless. My impossible healing shouts more loudly than any words can.
‘What will you do?’ she says.
I hesitate, wondering what I should tell her.
‘We’re going away, to someplace nobody knows us. We’ll be okay.’
‘Going away? Where?’
‘I don’t know. But that’s why I came, to say goodbye.’
Tears shine in Jude’s eyes now.
‘It’s too late for that,’ she says, very quietly.
‘What’s that mean?’ I say.
But she won’t look at me and I get it now – she thinks I’m gone already.
‘You’re wrong,’ I say. ‘I know what it looks like, but I don’t feel any different inside. I’m the same as ever, I just heal faster. I’m not evil, Jude, not even bad!’
I try to smile and reach for her hand, but she snatches it away.
‘Don’t touch me!’
I curse and she flinches, like she thinks I’m going to rip her head off or something. Next thing, she’s on her feet and backing away. I scramble after her, sensing she’s about to run. And I can’t help it, I’m angry now.
‘Look, this isn’t my fault!’
She trips over something in the muck and straw.
I swear I only grab her so she doesn’t fall backwards, but she gasps loudly and I’m sure she’ll scream. Without thinking, I clamp my hand over her mouth. She flails against me, tries to push me away, but I’m too strong. Her eyes bulge.
I pull my hand away, brace myself.
‘You said you wouldn’t hurt me,’ she sobs.
I shake my head and try to get a grip on my temper. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. But you mustn’t scream. If your father finds us here, sees me like this, then it’s like you said – I’m dead. And so is Rona. You don’t want that, do you?’
She stares at me, but says nothing. Which says it all.
‘You won’t tell, will you?’
Jude shakes her head, but I see her little finger trace the Sign of One. I’m so stunned, I let go of her. She gives this huge gulp and darts to the side door. Beyond the spill of light, I hear her fumbling at the latch and her ragged breathing.
The door creaks open, then bangs shut behind her.
The drizzle eases as I make it home. The nearly full bigmoon finds a gap in the clouds and paints our shack silver, nestled in our herb and vegetable gardens. I’m wondering if this is the last time I’ll ever see it like this, when I notice the sliver of light sneaking out from under the door. Oh great, that’s all I need. Rona’s back already, probably waiting behind the door with a hatchet.
I bang inside, slam the door behind me, determined to make no excuses.
‘Look, I don’t care. You can’t keep me –’
Rona looks up from stuffing something into my backpack. Her glare could stop a charging fourhorn.
‘Where the hell have you been, Kyle?’ she growls.
And that’s when I see we have a visitor.
She’s sitting, her legs stretched out, in the chair by the stove. Those leathers, the long white dreads, the teardrop tattoo, her dark green eyes. . .
My mouth drops open. So does hers.
‘You!’ we both say.
Windjammer girl launches herself to her feet.
‘No way. I’m not flying this scumbag anywhere,’ she says to Rona.
Rona