I don’t bother answering.
My blade slicing through my palm should fill in the gaps. I run the wound deep enough to fill the small container with blood.
With a shake of my hand, the bleeding stops.
“Drink this.” Offering the congealing liquid probably isn’t as appealing as it should be.
But he needs it.
“Hell no.” His lips thin as he shakes his head like a damn toddler.
“How do you think you survived? Don’t be a pussy,” I growl at him. I hold up my fingers to reveal my fully healed cut. “See? But this shit goes bad. Drink it.”
“I fucking hate you for dragging me out here,” he grumbles, reaching for the cup.
After the first swallow, he gags, baring his red-stained teeth.
A dry retch or two and he finishes.
“God damn that’s awful.” Falling onto his back, he stares at the sky. “How’d you hide that for so long? We all had tests we had to take.”
I shrug, rinsing out the empty mug. “Just managed to redirect long enough, pretend I was still hurt. I snuck a razor blade into my initial interview so I could keep the cut open.”
“Oh shit, I remember that. Mine almost got infected. Dumbest crap.” He groans and sits up to look at his thigh. “I can feel it. It’s, like, bubbly inside.” Working his palm over his bare skin, we both watch as the flesh beneath fills and the scars fade.
“Holy wow,” he exhales. “I can’t believe you fell through the cracks with that kind of ability. You’re almost strong enough to end up on a tube—” His eyes widen as does his mouth. “Now I see,” he adds quietly.
“Yea.” Pushing to my feet, I go back to the fire. “Hungry? I have some taco pasta or tuna casserole.” The MRE’s are probably thirty years old at this point, yet they’re still edible.
If we’re hungry enough.
“Taco.” He lifts his leg and bends it up, rotating his foot in the air. “You know, I’ve seen some pretty amazing recoveries. This is the first time I’ve been on the receiving end.”
“Well hopefully this’ll be the only one.” After pouring the boiling water into the two pouches, I hand him the first.
His lips purse as he blows on the first bite and chews quietly.
“Hud? Why?” He pulls out another piece of pasta to cool.
“Why what, Ash?” I’ve known him for decades, but I’m not a mind reader.
“Why work so hard to stay at the institute when you know you could be found out at any moment?” He scrapes the bottom of the bag for the last little bits.
I mull over my options. It’s been a secret to anyone else but me for so long.
I told Jenny, not like that mattered.
My fingers trace my neck reflexively. Damn it, I still want her.
“I have a daughter who was born right after Dire day. She’s a grade A.” It still hurts, even this much later.
Ash lets out a low whistle. “Like Jen. Any trace of her?”
Shaking my head helps me tamp down the knot in my throat. “I don’t think I’d even recognize her.”
“That’s messed up,” he sighs, settling back on his palms. “I can see now why you’d want in. You know if you’d have asked, I have access to all the records.” The corner of his lip drops when I wrinkle my nose.
“Oh. Yea. It would have kicked up a lot of questions. All that shit is genetic.” Fiddling with the shredded ends of his pants, he fashions them into makeshift straps to keep the ends together. “Are we hiking tonight, or morning?”
