When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 32

"Dammit, talk to me!" There was anger in Burt's voice.

Talk to him? Beth shook her head. Talking to him would imply telling him something. But what could she tell him? He had tried to shoot Whitesnake as she lay helpless on the ground. The same with Leo. And he had tried to violate her, to take her in front of all these gawkers. Should she tell him that?

What would be the point?

And what right did she have to blame him for his misdeeds? She was a murderer. That took her far beyond anything he was.

Biting her lips, she tried to concentrate on her surroundings, on the city ruins that enclosed them; on the heat of the early afternoon; on the risk of pursuit.

Tired of the continuous threat of this dreary place and what it did to her, she longed for safety, shade, and innocence.

Burt grabbed her sleeve and jerked her around. "Look, I'm sorry." He held out his hands. "I was plastered last night. Okay?"

A man's true character swims best in alcohol. The phrase wouldn't go away, and it stood in the way of forgiveness.

How could she forgive? And would she ever be forgiven?

"Let's concentrate on getting home." Using Whitesnake's dagger, which she stilled carried in her hand, she pointed towards the West, or what she believed to be west. "The river has to be somewhere ahead. And they said there's a bridge. A place to cross it."

"As you wish, my lady." He sounded hurt as he wiped his face and set out along the direction she had indicated, walking right into a crossing between two major streets.

Nervously, she looked left and right, scanning the thoroughfare for dogs or people.

Earlier that day, they had heard a yowling and yapping somewhere to the North. But they had never seen an animal. And the street here lacked any sign of life.

Yet walking right into an open square, like Burt did, was a daft idea.

Suppressing a curse, she followed him.

He walked in the middle of the street as if to show he dared. As if to show what kind of man he was.

The kind of man he was—she was all too aware of it.

Well, was his kind that far from hers?

She closed her eyes, shutting out the world and the reality that came with it. But on the inner side of her lids, she just found memories of a man howling with pain as the flames destroyed him.

She lost her footing and stumbled. She had got caught in a rusty grid covering a manhole, some of its twisted bars missing.

"Shit!" She tried to free her foot, but it was wedged in firmly.

"Since when are you using such nasty words?" Burt had returned and seized her hand, giving her a pull.

Their combined effort pried one of the grid's bars loose. Beth's foot came free, and the bar fell into the dark manhole. It rang out loud as it hit the bottom, somewhere far below.

"I hate this place," Beth said.

As if in reply to her statement, a metallic clang echoed up the manhole, making her jump.

"Let's get away from here, quick!" Burt said and ran, without waiting for her to follow.

Cursing him, Beth followed. "Hey, wait!"

He did wait, at the next intersection.

"What do you think that was?" he said, as she arrived.

Beth was panting too hard to reply.