When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 17

The baby in Beth's arms stirred, kneading her fingers into her holder's breasts.

Leo opened one of the doors of his wardrobe and rummaged inside, searching for a hankie.

Hope mewled. A tear glinted on her cheek. She was precious, priceless, just like all infants.

She would be even more so to her father.

In the right—or wrong—hands, this made her a powerful weapon to be wielded against him.

"Wait, they must be here somewhere." Leo closed the first door and opened the other one, resuming his search.

Beth reached behind her back and dug her fingers into the waistband of her skirt. The knife had slid down.

"Here, I've got a small one and a big one," he said.

She finally located the knife and pulled it out while keeping her eyes on Leo.

He turned, a small, off-white rag in one hand and a bigger one—almost reaching the floor—in the other, his face an unspoken question. His black hair fell into one of his eyes, as usual. The sight of him in a dilemma of tissues was almost funny, and the trace of a one-sided smile made her wonder if he shared the thought.

Yet this wasn't the time for humor. It was a time of action.

She gritted her teeth and showed him the blade. "Don't move."

He dropped the hankies, his mouth open.

"I..." She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice and hand from shaking. "I don't want to hurt your daughter." No, she didn't. The thought of using the blade against Hope appalled her. "But I'll do it if I have to." Would she? She didn't really know and prayed she wouldn't have to put this to the test.

As she lowered the knife, bringing it closer to the child's face, Hope reached for it. Beth had to move it away from her, remembering the sharpness of its blade.

Looking back at Leo, she saw his hand approaching the gun he had tugged into his belt.

"Don't!" She hated the tinge of panic in her voice. "Even if you shoot at me, I might still hurt or kill her."

He raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Just stay calm. We can sort this out."

"Yes, we can. Pull that gun from your belt, holding it with two fingers only. Then place it on the table." With two fingers only—it was a line she had heard in an old vid of men with horses.

He did as instructed. "Please." He swallowed. "You know I don't want to hurt you. I—"

"Shut up!" She didn't want to hear his pleading. She didn't want to hear him call her acts wrong, and vile, and cowardly. "Now, move away from the table." She gestured at the door, the one that led into the corridor.

As he did so, she got up from the bed, still holding Hope in one arm. Keeping an eye on him, she went to the table.

She swapped the knife with the gun.

Its weight and purpose burdened her. Still, she disabled its lock, making sure that Leo saw it.

"Please, Beth—"

"Quiet," she said. She didn't want his mother to wake up and to come to investigate. "Now, open the door and move."

There had been no one close by when Hammer had taken her up here, except for Starlet. She prayed that the girl would be with her grandma now.

She followed Leo along the corridor and out onto the stands. The sky had turned dark now, but moonlight and a fire between the huts of the village still cast a feeble light. There seemed to be no one in this part of the stadium except the three of them.

The air had cooled down a bit, and a soft breeze touched her skin.

Hope whimpered.

Leo looked at Beth, his hands twitching.

"Let's go to the locker room, and make it quick," she said.

Avoiding the huts, they descended in silence.

Rock had said he was going to the village. So, with some luck, no one would be guarding the prison.

The tunnel's entrance stood dark, and no light could be seen on its other side. They must have closed the exit.

Would it be locked?

One problem at a time.

"Move. We are going to release Burt now."

Leo stepped into the tunnel.

She followed his footfalls, unable to see him. They stopped, replaced by a metallic click, almost a clang. It had to be the door branching off from the tunnel into the corridor to the locker room.

Or something else entirely.

More footsteps, quickly fainting. She followed them and found the corridor, as expected. A row of windows along its ceiling shed enough light to recognize Leo's figure as he walked its length.

When they reached the locker room, he operated its handle. "It's locked. I don't have the key."

"Step away," she said.

When he had cleared the door, she fumbled for the hook beside it, the one where Rock had hung the key. Had he come back to retrieve it?

Her hand scratched painfully against the hook. Something was dangling from it.

Securing Hope in one arm, she groped for the key with her gun hand, trying not to drop the weapon.

Leo moved, approaching her.

"Stop!" she yelled.

He froze, holding up his hands.

She seized the key with two fingers and pulled it from the hook.

Hope sobbed.

"Move away, another ten steps," Beth said.

The child's sobbing turned into crying—noisy and phlegmy.

"Shh!" Beth tried to touch Hope's face with the back of her hand, trying to calm her. The gun got caught in the child's blanket, and the key dropped from her sweat-slick fingers.

Amidst Hope's crying, she didn't even hear it as it hit the floor.

Folding her knees, she brought her gun hand down to floor level.

Hope got caught between Beth's thigh and bosom, and her crying turned into a wail.

"Let's stop this," Leo said, his tight voice loud enough to be heard over the child's noise. "Give up. I won't tell anyone. Let's go back to my apartment, and we'll forget about this."

Beth even believed the plea in his words. He'd probably not tell anyone. And she hated herself for doing this to an innocent child, for getting her involved in this. But this was their only chance for escape. Frantically, she continued to grope for the key.

Hope's yelling rang along the corridor. The people in the village must have heard it by now.

There, her fingers found the key. She seized it—while holding on to the gun—and got up.

Hope's body had turned all hard now, her tiny muscles spasming with each cry.

Leo stood still, legs and arms slightly apart as if ready to jump at her.

Ignoring him, she slid the key into the lock and turned it.