Page 42 of The Compound

Becca rounded the corner, glanced at me with disinterest, and moved deeper into the compound, toward the maze.

Suddenly I was seized by such terror at the thought of never seeing him again that I wanted to stay where I was and hide, if only to avoid the final parting.

But I heard him call my name and I went to meet him.

We stood shyly before each other, as though we were strangers.

His skin had darkened in the past months, and though he had a lot of scruff, just short of a beard, his hair was still neat and well cared for.

I felt a wave of shame over how I looked.

I touched my hairline self-consciously, wondering if my bald spot was still visible.

“Don’t watch me, when you’re out there,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. “If you want.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

He named the place, a city about three hours’ drive from my own.

“And you?”

I told him, and he said, “I could visit. If you were up for it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe.” He looked so incredibly, profoundly hurt, that I said, “What we had here was perfect, don’t you think? I don’t want a lesser version of it, on the outside.”

He didn’t answer. After a moment, I saw that he was crying.

I put my arms around him and rested my head in the crook of his shoulder. He held me tightly, and I could smell him, smoke and cedar; I felt the light tremors that ran through his body. He pulled away first and looked at me like I was still beautiful.

“Sam,” I said.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ll be fine.” A minute later, he was composed again, and wiped a hand across his face. We stood silently for a moment, and then I said, “I’ll walk you to the perimeter.”

He took my hand and slung his bag over his shoulder, and we walked together toward the boundary. His bag looked light: he hadn’t taken many of his rewards.

There was a part of me that didn’t really believe that he was going; I thought that he would reach the boundary, see the desert before him, and change his mind. But we were approaching the edge now and his step was steady.

“Take this with you,” I said, and reached into the pocket of my dressing gown.

I gave him the duck feather that Susie had given each of us the night we killed our own dinner.

He took it and smiled a little, tucking it into the pocket of his shirt.

He looked out at the vast expanse of land, the sand and the dirt, cooked and bleached under the white sun, and I said, “What happened in the desert?”

He took his time before answering. “We were dropped off individually. We didn’t know where the others were, or where we were.

I found Carlos first, and then Gav. Remember Gav?

Well, he was useless. He kept leading us in the wrong direction—the same wrong direction, over and over.

We found the others by pure chance. Tom had been bitten by then—he was attacked on his first night.

All of us had found at least one other person by then, except Tom; he’d had to sleep alone.

He was frantic when he found us. He kept talking about the dog, the attack, how he had killed it.

He had broken its neck, he said, and then broke all four of its legs for good measure.

I might not have believed him, but he kept a bone from its carcass.

He didn’t let it out of his grasp the whole time we were wandering.

“On the second day, we were low on food and we were starting to worry that we’d run out before we found the compound.

We’d been walking aimlessly for hours arguing with each other and no one was making any decisions.

It was decided that we should vote for one person to take the lead.

Tom felt strongly that it should be him.

He kept holding up that bone, as if it meant something.

He got into a fight, and some of the other boys had to intervene, including myself. ”

We were nearly there, now. The sun was hot on my neck; I had no sun cream on and would surely burn.

“Who did he fight with?”

“Andrew. They both thought that they should be the one in charge. It was vicious. They were swinging and tearing at each other. Tom was already in bad shape from the dog, but Andrew was merciless. Then we heard the voice, telling us that violence was forbidden. We were all stunned by the sound of it—no one could tell where it came from. I think we had forgotten, with the heat and the exhaustion, that we were being watched. We took some time to compose ourselves, and then we voted on who would lead us to the compound.”

“Who did they elect?”

“Me,” he said. I smiled, but I wasn’t surprised.

“As soon as we reached the compound, it was like their fight completely went out of their minds, but none of us forgot it. I remember hearing some of the girls fret over the boys that first day. There was one less of us, and one more of you, remember? And they thought that they were at a disadvantage because of it. My God, if you could have imagined how glad we were to see you all, waiting there calmly, the house looming behind you. We were entirely at your mercy, though I don’t think any of you realized it. ”

“The other man, the man who never made it here. What was his name?”

He had to think about it, his brow furrowed, eyes searching before him. “Alexandre,” he said at last.

“What happened to him?”

“On the second day, before Andrew and Tom fought, there was a suggestion that we split up and try two different paths. It wasn’t a popular idea, but Alexandre said he’d go and scout a different direction anyway.

I think he wanted a break from the bickering, to be honest. We waited for him for a long time—half a day—but when night fell it was too cold to stay out in the open and we had to move.

Some of us wanted to wait. We put it to a vote.

The majority said they wanted to move on.

We didn’t come across him again,” he said.

I wondered if he envied Alexandre, who had never made it here at all.

We were now standing at the boundary. I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say, but I knew what I wanted him to say to me.

I had told him that I didn’t think we would work on the outside, and while it was true, I desperately wanted him to tell me he’d wait for me.

Isn’t that what people said, when their loved ones went off to war, or when they left on some long journey—that they would wait for them?

“I don’t want to leave you this way,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Hardly any of the couples ever actually make it.” I didn’t mean to be cold, though perhaps that’s how I came across.

The situation had gone beyond my control so quickly, and it was easier to pretend that I knew what I wanted.

But I knew that if he had asked me one more time to go I would have gone, without a fuss. Ask me, I thought. Ask me again.

A faint wind rippled across the desert, shifting the sand. “Don’t stay too long,” he said.

He didn’t kiss me goodbye, only moved through a gap in the barbed-wire boundary, and was gone.

I thought: I deserved that. I watched him get smaller and smaller, but I could feel the top of my head burning, my hair scorching to the touch, and my neck was already tender.

I went and sat in the shade, then walked around the compound for the rest of the evening.

I stayed in a room at the back of the house that we had been using to store bed linens.

It smelled of laundry detergent and must. I didn’t see anyone for some time, and that was fine withme.