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kill him until after
he healed, I was going to have to ask him his name. I had kind of been avoiding
it, and he hadn’t asked me mine, either. A name just made him even more human.
But I couldn’t keep referring to him as “the man” in my head.
    I guess the best way to kill someone was
to really know them. Maybe that’s what I was doing. Knowing exactly who he was
would make it easier to kill him, wouldn’t it? Okay, I suppose that point was
arguable. . . Or not. At the same time, I wanted a label for him. I wanted to
identify him, and hate him all the more for it.
    I trudged back to the bridge, empty water
bottle in hand.
    “Nothing?” he asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Hmm.”
    “What’s your name?”
    He arched an eyebrow. “None – ”
    “If you say ‘none of your business’ and
refuse to give me an answer, then I’m going to kick you in the ribs. And this
time it’s going to hurt a lot more, on account of your injury. Then, if you
don’t tell me, I’m going to kick you in your thigh. Then - ”
    “Gideon.”
    “Thank you.”
    We were silent for a moment. I stared at
him.
    He raised his eyebrows at me. “Ahem.”
    “What?”
    “I thought you were big on civilized
conversation.”
    “And?”
    “What is your name?” he asked pointedly.
    “Oh.” I was hoping he wouldn’t care.
“Candace.”
    “Huh.” He nodded. “You look like a
Candace. Skinny. Pretty. Conceited. Annoying.”
    I scowled. “You don’t know where there’s
a stream, do you? Because we should have been following one, considering we’re
not getting much rain lately.”
    “Shouldn’t you know your geography a
little better?”
    “Dad always handled the geography.”
    He nodded. “The nearest stream is about
ten miles that way.” He pointed back in the direction we’d come. “It’s the same
one we were visiting before; we parted with it yesterday.” He reached into his
backpack, pulling out a bottle. “I assume you don’t want to leave me for long
enough to double back, so, here.” He offered the bottle to me. “You’re out
because I drank yours, so you can have mine.”
    I furrowed my brows at him, perplexed.
“Is it poisoned?”
    “Why would I waste good water on
poisoning you when I have a loaded gun at my side?”
    He was right; he wasn’t going to poison
me. It was just that . . . “You said you’d kill me as soon as I became a
threat. Drinking your water leaves us with no water while you are immobile,
thereby causing me to be a threat to your life.”
    “No, it doesn’t.”
    “I think it does.” I took a drink.
    “No.”
    I sighed, rolling my eyes before sitting
down a few feet away from him, against the same stone wall he was leaning against.
    We were silent for thirty minutes.
    “Twenty questions?” I asked.
    “Do we really have to play that again?”
    “Is that your first question?”
    “No. I don’t have any questions for you.”
    “Well, I have one. Why does giving me
your water not threaten your life?”
    “For one thing, I am currently reliant on
you for survival. That medicine you have? I have no clue what it is, or how
often to take it. I rely on you for that information. I could kill you for it,
sure, but I would be just as helpless as before. I’d probably even die of an
overdose.”
    “What’s the second thing?”
    “There’s a storm coming.”
    “What?” I glanced toward the sky. “I see
absolutely no clouds. The sky’s a perfect blue.”
    “Stand up and walk over to this side of
the bridge.” He pointed right. “Then look as far as you can to the West.”
    I did as he suggested. Sure enough, there
was a little line of darkness gathering.
    “How’d you know that was coming? It
couldn’t have been visible for longer than the last ten minutes.”
    “I could smell it.”
    I wrinkled my nose. “I thought you said
you were twenty-eight.” Only old people could smell rain.
    “I did. What? Am I too young for you?” He
leered at me.
    “Whatever.” I sat down again.
    We