Born 01 - Born

"If I'm not back in three days, I think you'll have to cut the leg off and clot it. Don't give him liquor before you cut it off, because it thins the blood and he will bleed out. Clotting is done with a hot iron. You press it against the stump where the leg bleeds to seal the veins."
    I don't look at her. I can't. "The red lines are bad, I don’t know how long he has. He will need tons of soup, water, and rest." I stand. "I'll leave tonight."
    My leg aches at the thought of leaving.
    The barn feels less scary with her in it, and I realize my whole life feels that way.

Chapter Seven

    I don't look back. I know he's watching me. I can't bear to see the look on his face. His eyes will haunt me forever. I've never left him before. He's always part of whatever I undertake. He waits in the woods while I raid houses, but he's there. This is the first time I turn my back on him, and I don’t know if I will be back.
    I just put one foot in front of the other.
    When the sun rises, I am in the middle of nowhere. I walk and listen to the music of the birds. The sun is above me and hot. Spring isn’t like it was when I was little. It's warm and muggy now. I know I'm about halfway. Lost in the trail and thought, I hear something I haven’t heard in a long time, a buzz. I follow the noise to a hive. It's small and only half built but it makes me hopeful. If the bees aren’t dead like I feared they would be, maybe there is hope. I haven’t seen a bee since before.
    I look at the small hive. Humans could do that. We could rebuild. If we stopped trying to be on top, we could stand a chance. I watch the busy bees for a moment and turn back to the trail. It isn’t a real trail. It's just a direction I walked once before.
    The sun sets, making me tired. I've walked nearly twenty-four hours. I climb a huge tree and lay against the trunk in one of the high up branches. I close my eyes for a minute.
    Flashes fill my head instantly.
    My father is pushing me along the road. Cars and trucks fill the freeway. People sit in them still, but my dad doesn’t think we have enough time to get out. He has waited for this day his whole life.
    "Em, we need to get to high ground, and we need to get away from these people." His fingers dig into my back, poking it.
    "Dad, maybe we should go back to Granny's." My voice is small compared to the noise from the masses.
    "No. Run faster, Em. We need to run." He is in front and dragging me up a grassy hill. My little legs hurt. He's made me work out and run since I can remember, but it's late and I'm tired.
    I think a bad thought. It's a thought I will regret always. His erratic behavior forces the thought.
    His hand squeezes mine.
    I hear a cracking noise. My father's face fades.
    I wake and look around but I see nothing. My eyes are blocked by something. I lift my head to realize I'm face down in a bushy branch. The smaller branch, which I'm resting my weight on, is breaking. I struggle for a moment and pull myself up but the branch below me snaps loudly and falls. It hits every other branch on its way down. I cringe, as each noisy strike fills the air. The rustling of the bushes overtakes the night.
    I pant loudly, waiting.
    My heartbeat is throbbing throughout my body.
    I have nowhere to go if anything has heard my noise. I stay perfectly still, willing my body to calm itself.
    I can't believe how close I came to falling out of a tree. I never sleep in trees. I always choose underground, but tonight I have no choice. I have no plan. It's one of my rules to always have a plan. I feel naked without it.
    I stay in the tree, resting my eyes and listening to the sounds of the night.
    I climb down before the sun comes up. I never move much in the day. It's one of my rules but I have no choice. I'm limited for time.
    I walk quickly, trying not to imagine the fever that has flushed his cheeks or the pain the leg is causing. His eyes unnerve me, even in my own mind.
    I see the trees thinning. I am close. My stomach is a bundle of knots and nerves.
    I walk as close as I can with my weapons. I grip them close to me as I have my last few seconds with them. I've only been here, to this one, once and it scared the hell out of me.
    I tremble, and I put them in a hole under a tree. I stuff the bow to the very back of the hole and my knife. I shiver from the nakedness of being without them and I cover the hole with branches.
    I walk away, breaking a branch with my hands every few steps. I leave the snapped ends