Nothing could have prepared her for what happened after she let the lithe stranger hoist her into the tree. She'd had no choice but to let him help her, otherwise she would have been killed. Now she stayed put, corpses littering the ground at her feet. Would the man who saved her think she owed him something now? She hadn't asked for his help, and hadn't thought of the consequences of accepting it until it was too late. She saw what he was capable of, he could probably kill her in an instant. What would he want to do with her?
He saw her staring at him, and could tell instantly that she was feeling intimidated.
“You're safe now,” he said. From the way he spoke, she could tell he wasn't used to the sound of his own voice. His words were labored and he flinched at the sound of their harshness against the silence.
“Thank you,” she said, not moving from her spot in the tree. It seemed silly to stay there, knowing he could probably jump up there at a moment's notice, but she wanted to keep her distance from him as long as she could.
“There’s no other way to deal with the Jackals,” he said apologetically. “It didn't used to be this way.”
He turned his back on her and began to walk toward the stream, where he washed the blood off of his arms and took a long drink of water.
“You should drink,” he said, remembering the longing look in her eyes when she had seen the water. Her bottle must have been empty. Maybe she didn't have one. But everybody had one, they had to.
She agreed – the exertion had left her dizzy and parched. She licked her lips; they felt like cotton. There was no doubt that she would be in trouble if she didn't get some water soon. She slowly climbed down the tree, but kept her back pressed firmly against its trunk. She didn't trust this man. It was a mistake to trust anyone anymore.
He seemed to understand, if not expect this, and went about his business as if she weren't there. When he turned around and saw that she hadn't left yet, he looked surprised.
“Good luck,” he said, pursing his lips. He didn't want to be around her, she realized in surprise. He hadn't planned on saving her, and didn't expect anything from her. She exhaled and slowly made her way to the stream, where he was pulling a bottle out of his bag to collect water in. Layne did the same, and chugged the cool stream water down with reverence. So this was what the Jackals wanted to protect. They had their own fresh water source right in the backyard. If others came, who knew what would happen to it?
Pollution, disease... A lot of the survivors were carriers, but they had become outcasts in the new society. Everybody blamed them for the state of the world, and they clearly blamed themselves. The guilt was impossible for them to live with, and many of them had become addicts – creating their own dangerous chemical cocktails or trading for them from other people. Those chemicals could pollute a body of water in a heartbeat, killing whatever might be living in it and rendering it undrinkable.
She didn't know the area very well, as evidenced by her recent escape. However, she was nervous about being a sitting duck, and shifted uncomfortably once her bottle was full.
“We should get out of here soon, that guy will be back. And he'll bring others.”
Jax nodded. He himself had thought the same thing. He took one last drink, relishing the freshness of the water before it was tainted by the moldy smell of his bottle, and slung his bag over his broad shoulder.
“Do you know how to get out of here?” he asked her, his eyes narrowing. He'd already gotten her this far. He might as well see to it that he saved her all the way and not just a little bit.
“No,” she laughed. It wasn't a humorous laugh. It was exasperated and tired. Sad. Angry. It made him upset to think that such a pitiful sound could come out of somebody so beautiful. As if she didn't expect him to help her. Didn't see why he should. Or thought maybe he didn't know the way either. They were all used to assuming they were the most alone they would ever be, and finding help always came at a cost.
He'd had enough of words, and nodded toward a discreet path. He wanted her to follow him. She swallowed hard, forced into making a snap judgment about the trustworthiness of this stranger. He was handsome, but he was fierce. He didn't seem to require anything of her for his help. At least not yet, not while they were still in danger. Who knew about later? She had heard many stories about young girls being forced into indentured servitude, doing who knew what to pay off a debt they hadn't meant to fall into.
“I appreciate you saving me,” she said. ‘Thank you' was an antiquated phrase, one that had fizzled and died out once there seemed to be nothing in the world left to feel gratitude toward. Thanking others was like acknowledging a debt you owed to them, and that was dangerous. “But if you help me, there's nothing I can give back to you.”
What she meant was there was nothing she would give to him. She was on her own and planned to keep it that way. It had been working out fine for her so far. If she hadn't made that one stupid mistake, the Jackals never would have known she was there. He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to get to the point. He really didn't seem surprised by the fact that she had nothing to give and turned away from her, walking into the foliage as if whether she followed or not was inconsequential. It puzzled and surprised her, so she moved forward, following him through the brush, unsure of what she was getting herself into.