cuts could be death out on the Tracks. I fished around for the Neo-spray. It didn’t take long to find because it was in the place meant for it in the front pouch, where bandages and hygiene items were stored. I shook the small can and swore. It wasn’t as full as it used to be, and it’d soon be time to swipe more.
A few years ago, a cut of this size wouldn’t have cost me much thought. Colony doctors could knock out any illness in a reasonable amount of time, but there were no doctors out here. There was only risk and reasonable risk assessment.
A cut was easy enough to clean up.
Death wasn’t.
“Be obsessive about your scrapes out here, love,” Randolf reminded me. He shook the Neo-spray and it wooshed-wooshed over my hand. It stung a little, and I sucked in air. “Sepsis is no fun thing…”
“What’s that?”
“Death. Happens when a cut gets infected. It sneaks up on you and kills quickly.” He peeled off the plastic from the bandaid, then laid it against my hand. The bandage looked peachy-pale next to the rest of my dirty skin.
“It’s just a cut, Randolf,” I reassured him.
He sighed. “You say that until you see it take someone. I knew a girl your age once. Lilly. A pretty little flower, done in by a scrape—a scratch— right on her thigh. So never say a cut is just a cut, okay hon?”
The way he said it spoke of a loss I recognized. I knew that no matter how similar they were, no two losses were the same. But despite his loss being from a different circumstance, I felt his sadness as my own. We sat there in silence, with my hand resting in his. My bandaid told its own stories, while we remembered the girl who taught Randolf such a valuable lesson about the small turning into the big.
“Can you help me with this?” I pointed to my forehead and his eyes widened. “Seriously. I can’t see it. Is it clean or not?”
He leaned in carefully so he could examinethe cut a little better. His breath smelled like distant peppermints, and I couldn’t help but wonder how his breath still smelled good. “Looks like a tiny scrape.”
“Does it need a bandage?”
“I thought you Rebels were supposed to be tough.”
“Not a Rebel, you idiot. Cuts are pretty dangerous out here.”
“You hop off speeding trains, but you’re afraid of a cut?”
I growled. “It’s not fear. It’s being smart. You don’t get it, but you might one day. Is. It. Clean? That’s all I asked.” He grinned, and I scowled. I’d let the boy get under my skin, and I wanted to punch that smile right off his face. “Forget about it. I’m going to get some sleep. Two spoons in a drawer. Don’t even think I’ll fork, or I’ll cut you.” I tried to keep my voice firm. If I acted harder than was in my nature, maybe he’d keep his hands to himself. I should have been safe since he was a Colony-kid, but sometimes even that was hard to tell. Apparently worrying over a cut hadn’t made me look tough enough, and I didn’t have much more time to convince him he didn’t want to mess with me. I needed to sleep, and the tent was small. I needed to let my guard down soon, or it wouldn’t be my choice at all. I was so, so tired.
“What the heck does that mean?”
I sighed. I kept forgetting he was new to it all. “Two spoons in a drawer. We sleep back to back.”
“What’s forking?”
It was the first rainy night Xavi and I faced together, and we were still giddy from the events of the day.
I stole my first pair of hiking boots that morning.
Before we even got to the Colony, we scrubbed ourselves and our clothes clean in the river. Then, we hid his pack so we’d blend in easier. The heat of fear was everywhere, and I wondered if anyone’d recognize me. “Breathe. We’re in 22. You’ve never been here. No one knows you,” Xavi whispered, but it didn’t slow my heartbeat. We took clothes into the dressing room to try them on, but on the racks,
A few years ago, a cut of this size wouldn’t have cost me much thought. Colony doctors could knock out any illness in a reasonable amount of time, but there were no doctors out here. There was only risk and reasonable risk assessment.
A cut was easy enough to clean up.
Death wasn’t.
“Be obsessive about your scrapes out here, love,” Randolf reminded me. He shook the Neo-spray and it wooshed-wooshed over my hand. It stung a little, and I sucked in air. “Sepsis is no fun thing…”
“What’s that?”
“Death. Happens when a cut gets infected. It sneaks up on you and kills quickly.” He peeled off the plastic from the bandaid, then laid it against my hand. The bandage looked peachy-pale next to the rest of my dirty skin.
“It’s just a cut, Randolf,” I reassured him.
He sighed. “You say that until you see it take someone. I knew a girl your age once. Lilly. A pretty little flower, done in by a scrape—a scratch— right on her thigh. So never say a cut is just a cut, okay hon?”
The way he said it spoke of a loss I recognized. I knew that no matter how similar they were, no two losses were the same. But despite his loss being from a different circumstance, I felt his sadness as my own. We sat there in silence, with my hand resting in his. My bandaid told its own stories, while we remembered the girl who taught Randolf such a valuable lesson about the small turning into the big.
“Can you help me with this?” I pointed to my forehead and his eyes widened. “Seriously. I can’t see it. Is it clean or not?”
He leaned in carefully so he could examinethe cut a little better. His breath smelled like distant peppermints, and I couldn’t help but wonder how his breath still smelled good. “Looks like a tiny scrape.”
“Does it need a bandage?”
“I thought you Rebels were supposed to be tough.”
“Not a Rebel, you idiot. Cuts are pretty dangerous out here.”
“You hop off speeding trains, but you’re afraid of a cut?”
I growled. “It’s not fear. It’s being smart. You don’t get it, but you might one day. Is. It. Clean? That’s all I asked.” He grinned, and I scowled. I’d let the boy get under my skin, and I wanted to punch that smile right off his face. “Forget about it. I’m going to get some sleep. Two spoons in a drawer. Don’t even think I’ll fork, or I’ll cut you.” I tried to keep my voice firm. If I acted harder than was in my nature, maybe he’d keep his hands to himself. I should have been safe since he was a Colony-kid, but sometimes even that was hard to tell. Apparently worrying over a cut hadn’t made me look tough enough, and I didn’t have much more time to convince him he didn’t want to mess with me. I needed to sleep, and the tent was small. I needed to let my guard down soon, or it wouldn’t be my choice at all. I was so, so tired.
“What the heck does that mean?”
I sighed. I kept forgetting he was new to it all. “Two spoons in a drawer. We sleep back to back.”
“What’s forking?”
It was the first rainy night Xavi and I faced together, and we were still giddy from the events of the day.
I stole my first pair of hiking boots that morning.
Before we even got to the Colony, we scrubbed ourselves and our clothes clean in the river. Then, we hid his pack so we’d blend in easier. The heat of fear was everywhere, and I wondered if anyone’d recognize me. “Breathe. We’re in 22. You’ve never been here. No one knows you,” Xavi whispered, but it didn’t slow my heartbeat. We took clothes into the dressing room to try them on, but on the racks,
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