From somewhere ahead of me, a bark of
laughter splits the night. Glad someone finds this amusing. I look
up to see the faint glow of a barrel fire. Suddenly I realize how
weary I am, how every inch of me burns or stings or hurts, and I
just want to curl up on the ground and die. But I can’t—Tomas needs
me. So I stagger to my feet and approach the barrel.
As I come closer, I notice three
people huddled together, two men and a woman bent over the barrel
for warmth and light. The woman is light-skinned with light hair
that curls around her face and down her back in a ragged ponytail,
her large almond eyes taking me in. One of the men wears a hooded
sweatshirt that hides everything, but he glances up and I see a
wickedness in his face that scares me.
Maybe I shouldn’t stop here. They
won’t want to help me any more than the others did. The Bridge
should be just ahead, I can keep moving, I can—
“Hey.” The second man