The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Three

All of a sudden, I hear movement in front of us, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and the snapping of branches. Wade immediately grabs my shoulder and helps me duck into a thick patch of brush near the scant pathway we’ve been walking on.

Once we are in the safety of cover, I start to hear voices, the sound of three men talking. It’s hard to make out what they are saying at first, but as they get closer, the subject of their conversation is clear. We were spotted by someone, or rather, something. The way they speak, that something alerted them to our presence, though they don’t say what it was exactly.

Although I find it alarming that they know we are here, I find it even more troubling who they are. Based on their uniforms, they are clearly from the Warrior Cult, but why are they down here? The Festival of Three Suns shouldn’t be happening yet, and that’s the only time any of the Warrior Cult are supposed to be in the plains. Unless I’ve been lied to all these years.

“We need to run,” Wade says while helping me up. “The river isn’t far from here, and they’ll find us soon if we don’t hurry.”

“Why are they down here?” I gasp as I try to keep pace.

“They’re always here,” he explains. “There wouldn’t be much point in guarding the stairs only from the top. Otherwise, anyone could sneak up them anytime they wanted, or even better, demolish them entirely.”

“What good would that accomplish?”

He doesn’t answer and instead lengthens his stride, forcing me to focus all my energy on keeping up. After an exhausting dash, we emerge from the trees into a clearing. A river forms at its far side, one larger than any I’ve ever seen or imagined.

“How are we supposed to get across that?” I say between heavy breaths.

“Can’t you swim?” he winks at me.

We slow down to a light jog as we move toward the riverside, turning south and following it for several miles. As we approach the border of the light, I keep glancing at Wade seeing what he means for us to do, but he doesn’t flinch. I don’t know why, but the light makes me nervous, maybe because of how leery he has been about it. Yet right now, he seems to be intent on rushing into it.

I welcome the warmth it brings as it immerses us. The temp

erature in the plains had been fairly mild for most of the day, but the evening brought with it a slight chill. Still, the light makes me feel very exposed as I start seeing a number of strange animals. Most of them seem small and harmless, though I can’t be certain in a place like this.

“Over here,” Wade suddenly yells out, stopping at some boulders near the edge of the river.

He kneels down in the water, grasping for something until he pulls out a thick rope, one with strands that seem to be a mixture of different materials.

“I need you to pull with me,” he says, handing me some slack. “We need to tense the rope and anchor it.”

He points at a nearby tree only a few dozen feet from the boulders. The space between it and the river is covered in tall grass and rocks, which should conceal everything. I firmly grip the rope, which feels heavy in my hands, and begin to tug as hard as I can. As I look closer, I realize that some of the rope’s strands are wrapped with metal wiring of some sort.

“What’s with the metal?” I ask.

“It keeps the rope from being cut or snapping, and it also makes it sink so that no one sees it floating or dragging.”

When the slack disappears and the rope becomes tense enough, Wade has me keep a strong hold of it as he ties it to the base of the tree, covering it with even more grass. Once it’s in place, he disappears into the brush behind the tree.

“What

now?” I yell out.

“We float across,” he answers, reappearing with what I guess to be a very small raft.

“That won’t be big enough,” I say skeptically.

“We’ll have to manage,” he replies, “unless of course you want to try to get across on your own strength.”

He places the raft into the water, looping the rope through an anchor on the side of the raft to connect them. He then picks up a metal glove from inside the raft and puts it on, looking at me and giving an explanation before I am able to ask.

“The dangerous things aren’t just those above the water.”

The comment gives me pause, though it hardly deters Wade, who gets onto the raft and then kneels at its edge. He holds his hand out to me to help me on, but I am hesitant to accept it.

“You’ll be okay, don’t worry. I’ve never had a problem. The glove is just in case.”

I step forward timidly, and he grabs me by my forearm and side and pulls me down next to him. Once I’m situated, I realize that the raft is plenty large for the two of us as long as we stay like this, which seems to be the purpose of its design.