Among the Free

Chapter Ten

Luke ran.

Later he wouldn't remember much about the ground he covered, the logs he leaped over, the under ^ brush he trampled. His mind had no time to record such useless details. He ran with terror urging him on, a voice constantly in his head: They're right behind you. They've got to be. They're about to catch up. They're going to shoot again and this time they won't miss. There! Did you hear that? What was that? They're about to grab you—

He didn't turn around and look back. Even a second's lack of focus could have slammed him into a tree, snagged his feet on a root. He was so convinced he was about to be captured that he didn't worry about where he was running to—he just knew he had to get away.

So the sight of the mountain surprised him: The huge rock wall loomed directly in front of him. Automatically he veered to the right, then hesitated. Was that—? He saw telltale cracks in the rock, leading down to an opening at the mountain's base. He finally dared to slow down and glance over his shoulder — no one was directly behind him. He dived down and slid on his stomach across the rock floor.

Yes. It was a cave.

Luke had no way of knowing if it was the same cave he'd found before. He scuttled back into the darkness and huddled against a rock wall, his entire body shaking, his desperate gasps for breath echoing as loudly as a steam train. He finally captured enough air in his lungs that he could hold his breath for a few seconds and listen. Were those footsteps outside? Was someone even now about to duck down and crawl in after him? I'd be trapped. There's no escape… Luke stared at the thin sliver of gray light coming in through the cave's opening. No figure moved in to block the light. Maybe Luke hadn't heard footsteps. Maybe he'd been tricked by the sound of his own pulse beating in his ears.

His body had more tricks in store for him. His mind kept replaying the scene that he'd witnessed, slowing down for the final frame: the man turning, pointing the gun at Luke. Shooting. Luke tried not to let himself focus on the man and the gun. He kept trying to make himself remember what he'd seen out of the corner of his eye, right before fleeing. There, on the ground. Had the boy been crawling away? Had he slipped out between the men's legs while they weren't looking? Had he been able to escape?

Oh, please. .

Luke couldn't even have said why the boy's life mattered so much to him. The boy had been no friend to Luke. He'd shared information only because he was scared. He'd refused to share shelter or food. Why had Luke risked his own life trying to save the other boy?

Isn't it enough that the boy was alive? Isn't that reason enough for me to want him to stay alive?

Luke remembered the boy's own comment on life and death: "Lots of people die who don't deserve it." If the roles had been reversed — if it had been Luke on the ground and the boy hiding in the woods — Luke didn't think the boy would have tried to save him.

I don't think like he does. I'm not that.. free. But was it freedom not to care about anyone but yourself? Not to care what side you were on, as long as you got food in your stomach?

Luke's own stomach felt squeezed in and petrified, almost beyond hunger. But he knew he wouldn't survive long without nourishment. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll have to find food. For now, even if his life depended on it, he couldn't force himself to crawl back out of his cave.