Vagabond (7 page)

But he followed me still. He said nothing. He hinted at nothing. He asked nothing. He just followed. And as quiet
as he was, all I could hear was his stomach.
 

I remembered the days I first learned what it meant to be truly hungry. In the Colonies, my family wasn’t rich by any means, but I never starved. In fact, I was pudgy back then. I had a tiny muffin top and my boobs bulged out the side of my bra when my weight fluctuated up more often than down. My buttocks
always stretched the limits of my jeans, and I was at my heftiest when Xavi found me. My stomach never stopped growling while Xavi would go a day with only eating a handful of nuts. His skin would stretch against his ribs, and he still wouldn’t complain. But my stomach always clambered like a toddler banging on pots and pans in the kitchen. It took me a while to learn the art of staving off hunger. Xavi had to ween me off of the growl and taught me how to use the fumes as extra fuel to propel me on.
 

This boy? He was the same. The same as me in some ways. The same as Xavi in others. Like me, his stomach roared. Unlike me, who had complained beyond measure until Xavi gave me more than I deserved, the boy remained stoic.
 

I didn’t want to give in. I didn’t want to share. I walked into the meadow and to the tracks without stopping. I made it as visible as possible that I wanted him to go away, but he wasn’t picking up on the hints.
 

Finally, I stopped and pulled off my pack to find two granola bars. I didn’t need to look to know where they were.
“Even when it’s empty, fill it with nothing else,”
Xavi’d explained once.
“There’s a place for everything and everything has its place in your pack. Food goes in the front pouch. Nothing else. Things in the pack should feel like habits, so that, even in the dark, you can find what you need.”
 

I thrusted one of the granola bars to the boy, but before I let go, I warned, “It’s all you’ll get today. I don’t have much. Spread it out. Nibble. Trick your brain into thinking you ate more by eating slowly.”
 

“Mind over matter?” He laughed.
 

“Something like that.” I put the pack back on and kept walking. I decided against running, since it’d be better to conserve energy. I had to trust that the Militia had looked for us in the wrong places, and I bit into the granola bar, chewing on it as slowly as I chewed on my thoughts.
 

As I heard him peel back the wrapper, I had regrets. I shouldn’t have shared. What was I thinking?
 

 
“Where are we going?” He asked.
 

“
I’m
going southwest.”
 

“Southwest?”

“Yes.”
 

His voice walked behind me at the same pace he did. “Oh. I thought the Rebels stayed up north.”
 

“I wouldn’t know. I follow the weather.” I picked up my pace. The questions bothered me. He blew up a train, and now he wanted to know about the Rebels. Did he think I was one?

“What’s your name?” The questions kept coming.
 

“None of your business.”

“You don’t need to be rude,” he huffed.
 

The anger flared, and I turned to yell at him. “
RUDE?
Rude? You blew up
my
ride and are causing me to have to foot it to the next Colony! And who knows what type of crap-shoot you created in terms of security once I get there? Rude? Rude would be me taking that granola bar back!”

He put up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up your plans, but, in all fairness, you were the one hitching a free ride on Republic property!”
 

The hand went back before I could stop it. I didn’t have time to consider that he was just an idiot— that he didn’t know the things I did. I didn’t even care that I was once like him, and that Xavi had never once reacted how I did in that moment.
 

When my fist landed on his perfect little jaw, I knew it landed hard.
 

“Not like that! You’ll hurt your hand. You get more leverage if you make your fist the other way.” Xavi took my hand and shook it loose. “Palms down first, then ball it into a fist.” He wrapped his giant fingers around my small ones and bent them. “Now. Throw it.”
 

I did.

He laughed. “Okay. A little better. Now, if you connect, you want to hit with these.” He traced my index, middle, and ring finger’s knuckles. “They have the best support from your arm and do less damage to the wrist.” His fingers were soft and rough as they moved along my arm. The way his skin grazed mine made me aware of parts of my spine I never knew existed. “Now. Watch the stance.” He stood behind me and adjusted my hips. My face and my heart were on fire, and I could barely concentrate. “Use your body. Start from the ground and rotate your whole body, because the power comes from that. Especially for you, since you’re so short. The more energy the punch gets from the body, the more damage it’ll do. Now. Try again.”
 

I jabbed at the air.
 

“Better. Again.”
 
 

“Ow. What? Ow!” The boy held his jaw and curled over and in on himself. I knew the face was a stupid target, but it felt wrong to punch a hungry idiot in the stomach, and he didn’t deserve an attack on the groin. I knew that was only for special circumstances.
 

I turned and walked away from the boy’s commentary. I was done being nice. I gave him a granola bar. I gave him some water. I kept him from getting caught. I kept him dry. I was done helping him.
 

But even my right hook didn’t deter him. He kept following.
 

“If you’re looking for the Rebels,” I tried. “And you think they’re north, I can point you in the northern direction.” I pointed to the left. “You can keep walking that way, and you’re bound to meet one.”
 

“You’re not a Rebel?”

“Do I look like one?”

“Yes.”
 

“Um. No.” I glanced back and witnessed him rubbing his jaw. I didn’t feel vindictive when I smiled. I’d never had to punch someone before, and I felt powerful to know I could do some damage if I had to.
 

“What’s southwest?” He asked.
 

“The connection that goes west.”

“And what’s west?”

“Beaches. Warm weather.” I sighed. The beaches. I’d always wanted to see them ever since I heard about them, but Xavi had never wanted to go.
 

The boy laughed. “You follow the weather?”

“Someone made honors at Institute.”
 

He grew quiet at that, like he finally realized he was giving himself away. If only he’d known he’d told me he was from the Colonies with everything he did. There was too much to know about being a Vagabond in order for him to blend in, and he stood out like a zebra amongst donkeys. At least the awareness shut him up. The hours passed in silence, and the quiet felt nice. It was the type of quiet that only the middle of a forest affords, and the wildlife around us spoke in languages I could never understand.

The boy was flea-like, and I couldn’t shake him no matter how much I clawed or scratched at him. I was still thinking on how to get rid of him when the rumble at my feet came. I stopped and laid my hand on the rail, and from the vibrations, I had reason to hope it’d be a freight slow enough to hop on. Freights had to travel so much slower than the other transports since they had heavier, longer loads in comparison to Military, Politician, Scientific, or Celebrity trains. This made them easier to hop onto and off of at the most random of places.
 

 
I moved into the cover of the trees and the flea followed. The dot in the distance took on the adequate shape of a train, and I felt a new hope. The boy probably didn’t know how to hop onto a moving train, and I may lose him soon enough. The engine grew large as it drew closer. I wondered how it got past the debris of the other train that had been blown up in the night, but, then again, the Republic worked fast when it came to clearing the Tracks. After all, the Tracks supported the entire infrastructure of the Colonies. The graffiti speckled boxes zipped past. It was still going faster than I liked, but I knew I’d be able to catch one since the cars stretched for miles. I stepped out of the trees and took my time to judge the momentum. As I examined the train, the boy did the same. He studied me as much as he studied the freight, and it unnerved me. He had eyes that took in everything.
 

And then, I saw it. The moment of truth. I began to run parallel to the metallic handle on an open door. I swung my hands out, made contact, and propelled and lifted my feet before the train yanked my upper-body off. I counterbalanced the weight of my pack with a little extra exertion and swung myself into the car. Before my eyes could adjust to the lighting, the flea followed suit. “How’d you know—?” Shock turned into annoyance because he still found a way to follow me.
 

I looked back into the shadows and willed my eyes to adjust to the car. There was plenty of light to see by. However, light has a way of being too bright outside in comparison to light confined to a specific space inside. It’s like looking directly into the sun then trying to read black words on a bright, white page. Every time I hop into an open boxcar, I never know what I’ll see until my eyes adjust.
 

The voice that met us shouldn’t have surprised me, and I should have assumed the possibility of someone else in the boxcar. Never the less, it still caught me off guard.
 

“Well, I’ll be!” he said.
 

I swore under my breath as my eyes fully adjusted.
 

Roderigo.
 

“Don’t be an ass about it,” Xavi warned.
 

Roderigo glared at us. His tiny eyes became tinier still. “That’s Randolf’s pack. See that patch? I sewed it for him. He always had the clumsiest damn fingers.”
 

“Yes. We’ve covered that,” Xavi sighed. “And, if we hadn’t collected, it’d be lost in the wilderness somewhere. We took it under the Bond.”
 

Silence wrapped around the man’s brown wrinkles, and when his mouth moved, the wrinkles moved too. He spit from the side of his mouth, and brown glop flew and resonated with stench. “He’s dead, then? I don’t believe it.”
 

“Look, I know he was your friend. We can give you his tent for that, but she needs the pack. We aren’t going to give you all of it, and, I only offer the tent to be kind. By the Bond, we don’t have to give you—“

“By the Bond? Ha. So. If I come back and murder you in your sleep, by the Bond—“

“It wasn’t murder. We even left clothes on him and didn’t take his boots—“

“‘Cause they didn’t fit,” Roderigo spit again, and it landed on the tip of Xavi’s clownishly large feet.
 

Xavi frowned. “We still could have taken them to trade.” He glanced down at the spit and began to shake it off. The old man was quick to use the distraction to his advantage, and he reached out for the strap on my shoulder. His fingers were rough, as if they’d never been soft, when he grasped the strap and began to yank.
 

Xavi was between us before he could finish. “Don’t push it, or you’ll get nothing.” With Xavi between me and Roderigo, his height became brutally obvious. He was a towering mass, and he said, without saying, that even age and experience would not be enough to take him on.
 

Roderigo backed away and reached for his pocket, but Xavi grabbed the knife the old man was going for in a movement so quick, it didn’t register at first. He pressed the lever to unleash the blade, butterfly quick. “We don’t want trouble. We liked Randolf, and he taught us some Ways.”
 

Ways. The survival skills of Vagabonds— the secrets and shortcuts that were gifts more valuable than food on the Tracks. Randolf gave us more than Ways though. He gave us friendship, and I missed him.
 

Xavi kept moving past those memories though, and focused on Roderigo. “We will give you his tent and your blade back, but the girl keeps the pack. The tent will be her gift to you, and it’s generous. Had you not left Randolf, then all of it would have been yours, but you left him. He told us about you— what you did. And, for the record, he didn’t hold what happened against you.”
 

“Girly. You got ditched!” Roderigo laughed. The ice in the tone put me on alert, and my back ached in the rigidity fear put there. Xavi was my protection against men like him. Xavi was gone.
 

“No. Going to meet him later at the 12
^th
.”
 

“The 12
^th
?”
 

“Yes.”
 

“On the wrong line? You sure about that?”
 

The lie was quick and not thought out. The 12
^th
Colony was in the opposite direction. “Not for long,” I backtracked. “Got a little sidetracked. There was some Militia inspections a bit back, and I had to redirect. Then I ran into this guy.” I thumbed in the flea’s direction. At least his persistence in following turned into something useful, and it reminded Roderigo I wasn’t alone.
 

The old man took in the boy’s body. He wasn’t as tall as Xavi, but he was just as thick. He didn’t look like someone to mess with. “I wish I could believe you, but I saw Xavi with the blonde just yesterday.”
 

The information pricked my eyes as if ants were nibbling at the pupils, but I held the tears back. “A boy’s got to sew his oats somehow.” I didn’t even know what the phrase meant, but it seemed to fit. Flippant. Carefree. Two things I needed to embody if I was going to get through the next few minutes, and my attempt made Roderigo laugh in a way that sounded salty and gargled.