Reaping by K. Makansi Page B

Firestone’s burn. The pressure in the little tent seems to be building. I’m sweating and clammy. Remembering the devastation at Thermopylae always brings up tension, and I can’t help but feel responsible.
    “We need more water,” Jahnu says, breaking the silence.
    “There’s a little stream not far,” I respond. “I found it when I was looking for a spot. I’ll go fill our canteens.”
    I duck out before anyone can object. I flip on the tiny biolight in my pocket, which is just bright enough to illuminate the path at my feet. As I walk, I allow myself a space to breathe, finally, and to think. My thoughts bleed together as I walk through the darkness. A directionless apathy gnaws at me. It occurs to me that from here, we have at least a two-day journey ahead of us to make it to Normandy. And that’s if we make it without any further mishaps. I kneel to fill our canteens, wondering how we’ll make it through the woods with so little food left and Firestone hurt to boot.
    Lost in the woods. Something jogs in my memory.
    If you should ever find yourself lost in the woods, this may help.  Chan-Yu’s last words to me when I confronted him in the Sector capital building. I drop our full canteens and pull out the acorn pendant he gave me then. It’s been hanging around my neck, largely forgotten, until now. I hold it up in front of me, turn it over in my hands, press the metal between my fingertips, examine it closely. In the dim biolight, I look at it closely for the first time. Green and gold enamel decorate the surface. The acorn’s ‘hat’ is lightly indented, just like a real nut would be.
    I hold it up above me and look at it from the bottom. This time I notice something I hadn’t seen before. A tiny lever, or a switch, almost invisible in the darkness. Using my fingernail, I pry it from right to left, holding my breath. Will it light up? Explode? Turn into something else—a compass, maybe? At this point, I’d give anything for a magical genie to appear and grant me three wishes. But nothing happens. I turn it over in my hand again, but the miniscule switch is, again, the only thing I notice. I sigh, wondering if it’s broken, or maybe just a design flaw. I tuck it back into my shirt and head back to camp.
    Firestone’s already asleep in the tent when I return, and Kenzie’s settling into the tent she shares with Jahnu.
    “You on first watch?” I ask Jahnu, who is sitting with his Bolt across his legs.
    “Yep. You’re on second. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
    I nod.
    “Night,” I say.
    A man of few words, he stares straight ahead, as if he hadn’t heard me. I sigh, and duck into my tent.
     
     
    I wake with a start when Jahnu touches my shoulder, jerking up and gasping from a hazy, suffocating dream. Firestone seems undisturbed by my clamor, though no less sweaty.
    “My turn?” I ask, as softly as I can. Jahnu nods. I can barely see him in the darkness. I follow his lead, crawling over Firestone’s long legs. The shivering cold air of a winter night greets me as I step outside.
    I pull my down vest from my pack and settle in, as Jahnu ducks into his tent. I sit with my Bolt at my side, staring at nothing, listening to the wind in the trees and reveling in the silence. In Okaria, there was never so much quiet. Even at night, when the PODS shut down and electricity rationing set in, there was still noise around us. Out here, there’s just the wind, the trees, and the stars. Oh, the stars.
    The minutes fade into hours as I watch the stars wheel around the sky above me and listen for every broken twig or unusual rush of wind in the trees. Eventually a bruise-colored shift in the tint of the sky forms. Everything feels brittle, as if I could shatter the air by breathing too hard. I’ve been sitting too long, I decide. I stand, stretch my limbs and then prick my ears and sniff, holding perfectly still for a moment. But there’s nothing. I let out my breath and relax.
    “Hello,