Trust Me

Writhing, I tried not to look at the snakes. They were everywhere, those slick, scaly ropes draped over everything in sight. Closing my eyes, I counted to ten.

One.

Two.

Three.

 

Breathe.

 

A chilling hiss whispered dangerously close to my left ear. I managed to keep my eyes closed. That was the key. I knew if I couldn’t see them, I couldn’t lose control.

  “Keep close to me, Aira.” Matt’s voice calmed me. It was strong, but gentle at the same time. He took my hand and steadied me. I didn’t let go.

 

   Shaking, I fought desperately to swallow my fear. We walked on, through the steamy jungle, a sad, pitiful train of refugees straggling through the world, lost and lonely.

 

    I was terrified. I had never been out of the compound before, never lived beyond those towering walls. Outside, in this world so strange and new, I felt lost and powerless.  In the bare, bitter world of the compound I had reigned as queen. A captive queen, but I knew that place inside and out, and I had survived there on nothing but instinct for eighteen years. No one could have outsmarted me there, but here I was helpless. My every-valuable control was slipping away from me, and the only person I could trust in this wilderness was the tall, quiet boy walking steadily beside me. I peeked through my eyelashes for a moment. Matt was walking on, his deep blue eyes filled with an uncanny peace as we marched on to hell. Glancing back at me, he even smiled and held my hand a little tighter.

  From behind, the drivers were herding us faster and faster. Caution with regard to the snakes seemed irrelevant to them, and we began to move at a light jog, which meant I could no longer close my eyes. Which meant I could see them. Which meant I no longer had control.

 

  A sob tore out of me, wrenched from somewhere dark, hidden deep inside. It had been twelve years since I had felt tears on my face, and now twelve years worth came pouring out. I sobbed until I had no more breath. No more strength. I sank to my knees, unable to muster the will to run another step.

  The stragglers behind me tripped, and dodged, stumbling past me. Matt’s hand was jerked from mine, and the drivers were starting my way, angry at the disturbance of their perfect line, harsh black whips in their hands.

  Whips, like thick black snakes, themselves. I could already feel the sharp lash of the coil around my ribs.

  They were coming.